A/N: Hello lovelies, I'm Laura Levinson! I'm a lonely widow in a small town who loves to write beautiful prose. My lovely granddaughter suggested that I read The Hunger Games books, to which I eagerly obliged. I needed something to talk about with her, after all. After reading these lovely stories, an idea struck me. What will happen to our beloved Katniss once she reaches old age? My granddaughter told me about this site, so I decided to write about it here. You young'uns might do well to understand us old folks better through my story!
Chapter 1: The wakening
Katniss and Peeta awoke to a beaming sun. Katniss opened her lovely eyes to see Peeta looking at her like a child would look at a tasty red lollipop in a dusty old candy shop. "Did you sleep well," he asked in a coarsely grating yet lovely voice. Katniss noted a small but noticeable pimple on Peeta's earlobe. The pimple was large. "I slept well," she said, her skin sagging like a graceful cowhide in a gentle Wyoming wind. They shared a lovely glance.
The two had been retired for years now, enjoying their golden years. Her final days were spent playing Bridge with her lovely lady friends in the Weeping Willows Elderly Home in District 10. Kaniss's children had sent her to live here in this elderly holding tank. Sometimes children can be so cruel to their loving parents. Young'uns, take notice!
Her senile but lovely husband Peeta caressed her lifeless, leathery skin. "Hey Kitty Kat, what are you thinking?" Peeta's cheeks were stained with curdled prune juice, the result of an elderly lack of hygiene.
"Oh nothing, I was just thinking of changing the cat's litter box," Katniss said, each word accentuating the unsightly wrinkles on her once-beautiful face. The litter box hadn't been cleaned in a few months, accumulating a substance that can only be described as funky feline sludge. Katniss decided to forgo cleaning the dank box, instead opting to go downstairs to play Bridge with her girlfriends. Oh how that room stank.
Katniss's bones creaked and crowed. Her severe arthritis seemed to be in full force that day, as powerful as an army of passionate Spanish conquistadors conquering an unruly native land. Her cataract-laden eyes barely allowed her to see while she navigated downstairs. The floorboards warped violently under her weight as she ambled down each stair, her morbidly obese figure the result of years of unrestrained consumption of mushy tangerines and Oreos. Poor, poor morbidly obese Katniss. If only her mother had brought her up to eat more healthfully.
Peeta stayed behind, his chronic incontinence precluding any card playing debauchery. Peeta instead opted to delicately caress his pet iguana, Dan. He smiled like a responsible young man who had just made his first mortgage payment. A measured smile, not too showy. Such was Peeta's and Dan's relationship. Sometimes the old lizard showed Peeta more affection than the matronly Katniss.
A/N: What does the Bridge game have in store for our lovely Katniss? Stay tuned! Also, tell me what you lovelies think!