"Anyone Can Improve."

Hilary, aka Hilaria, and her husband Ben, were both retired school teachers. Unfortunately for Hilaria, old Ben had retired early into television land. He was so not interested in travel, hobbies, or doing anything but turn on blaring TV. It was getting to her a bit, she often could not be bothered cooking any more, so they ate takeaway food. Their favorites were pizza, kebabs, or burgers and fries.

Really, any home delivery menu provided an option for meal choices. Delish! Time saving. Hilaria did not know what she was saving time for, but soon they were both addicted to all those flavors and tasty meals. So convenient.

On the flip side, the chunky Hilaria had bulked up to size twenty-five, and old Ben was not far behind her. They were on the wrong path, all right. Their annual check-up with their GP came around. Boy, was their doctor unimpressed with this cuddly couple. Each BP was up., BMI was up,, their cholesterol levels were up. Hilaria and Ben both received an appointment for scans on their clogged arteries. That news was not so good.

The doctor had sat down with them, and read his version of a riot act. "Anyone can improve," he told them, "you both need to take a hard look at your food intake. I am referring you to my nurse for regular monitoring. Hilaria gulped, she was wondering how she had let them both get to this stage.

Hilaria and Ben drove home in their ageing family car, all of them had seen better days. Leaving Ben in his comfort zone, coffee and television, she took off for the supermarket, holding the doctor's diet sheet. "Right, fatty lard butt," she told herself, "This is perfectly doable. Vegetables, here I am."

Ben was not so convinced. Hilaria could cook, she had developed a slothful, lazy and lax approach. So now, she unearthed her slow cooker. In this, she cooked up interesting recipes for casseroles. Hilaria soon learnt to love aubergines, mung beans were her new number one!

Ben, on the other hand, kept trying to phone home delivery, muttering very rude words at his well meaning love. Hilaria had heard it all before, old teachers have hides like elephants .She had always been known as "The Dragon Lady" in her classrooms, firm and full of discipline strategies.

Hilaria did some research, and was soon spouting anti-junk food articles about the contents of the fast food industry. She, too, had been addicted. Salty, full of chemical additives, made from foods grown with pesticides amid fertilizers, preservatives all the way. No wonder Hilaria and Ben were in such bad shape. This was not her vision of their golden years together.

Ben was determined to escape to junk food. Hilaria hid the car keys, she swiped his wallet. Her recalcitrant husband, also a fatty, was doing it hard. One morning, he mumbled swear words at her for preparing his healthy option breakfast. He wanted bacon and eggs. When did he want them, now!

Hilaria was ready for him. She propped a box in front of him, with a slot in its lid. Old teacher trick, this. "This is my swear box. Every rude word gets a penalty. That'll hit you where it hurts. I am doing this for your own benefit. Now stop moaning!"

Ben ate in silence, fuming. Hilaria left the dishes, and headed off to the store, for some more healthy, slimming vegetables. She and Ben were practically vegetarians by now. Hilaria was optimistic, they were living their new life. Maybe her cellulite was not wobbling quite so much, she was 'into' holistic.

By the time she had got home, she was ready to impose more sanctions on Ben. She entered her front door, laden with ecologically correct reusable bags, full of spinach and new flavors. The television blared, but there was no Ben. Hilaria had his wallet, so who had he phoned? Ben was up to no good.

Hilaria was full of suspicion. She had a reasonably good idea where Ben had vanished to, there was a big burger barn open nearby, way down there in Hometown. This meant a confrontation, so she grabbed her swear box and drove off to see if that was where Ben was.

It was a quiet, grey morning in old slow Hometown, but Hilaria was on a mission for anti-flab. Ben, too, could love mung beans. He was supposed to be an intelligent male. "Fat chance!' Hilaria told herself. "Lord love men," she thought, " someone needs to." Her old jalopy roared along to the junk food store.

This was an 'aha' moment. It was as she suspected, she spied Ben in his cousin's pickup ute, heading from the exit. Ben was the passenger, Hilaria could see him munching into a burger. She was not deterred by the long appealing aroma of frying fries, permeating her car. Ben's cousin spotted Hilaria, and sped off. He led Hilaria on a merry chase, through the awakening dream of slim physiques in old morning Hometown.

Hilaria was determined to keep up with the bigger engine of their wheels, so she hit that accelerator. Her gearbox was making a funny noise, no time for a mechanical check. There was soon a trail of black smoke from her exhaust, and angry clouds of smoke from the irate wife's ear.s. Can you imagine?

The good ole boys turned off the beaten track, and were soon on their merry fat way, bush bashing downtown. Hilaria had always fancied rally driving, here she was. She pursued these naughty, ageing males all the way, sticking close behind their ute. They drove right up to the levee, on the verge of old man river Hometown, slow, swollen, sluggish, just like Ben.

Hilaria jammed on her brakes. The gear box of the jalopy finally gave up the ghost, and their once reliable car collapsed in a cloud of fumes. It was now beyond even the wreckers. Hilaria grabbed her purse and swear box, and marched up to confront the good ole boys. Ben was shoveling as much junk food into his mouth as he could Even worse, she could see their bevvies. Fat!

"Sprung bad! Give me that food and grog!" Hilaria ripped the burger from old Ben, and hurled his giant jumbo food and fries into old man river. The beers went flying into the yellow brown water. Hilaria was cross. Not a good plan for Ben, when would he ever learn.? Swear words ensued. A few water fowl quickly munched the burgers and fries, and appeared to start drowning themselves. Funny that.

Hilaria did not miss a beat. She channeled her inner aubergine, saying, "Anyone can improve!' She held up Ben's wallet, and tipped its contents into her swear box. Males could be so rude. Hilaria was in full strategic mode, born to be bossy. But, lo, she had her own plans.

She clambered aboard the pick-up ute, and commanded Ben's cousin to leave this sordid scene. "I shall forgive you this relapse," she told her fat, sulky husband. "When we get home, you are going to turn off the television. You are going to make swear boxes, thousands or millions of them. I am taking over this gig economy we hear about. We are going to be rich. We are going to create the swear box industry, so little boys of any age can improve."

Ben knew when to fold em, as the saying goes. He switched into his default mode. "Yes, dear. What about the car?"

"Fear not, I shall buy us a Lamborghini. We are going to cold canvas mothers and wives all around the world, and sell them swear boxes." Ben said, "Yes, dear. What about a red Ferrari?"

"I shall buy us both. One each."

"YES, DEAR!" For a red Ferrari as a suburban runabout, Ben too could learn to love aubergines. Anyone can improve. His cousin drove past the junk food store, driveway full of customers. Hilaria could not resist, "See, the junk food people don't care anyway." Ben agreed, safer that way.

Hilaria told these good ole boys, as they arrived home, ready for the modern gig economy in retirement. "Anyone can improve. Now start making swear boxes. Cellulite rules here, okay!

"YES, DEAR!" See, Ben and Hilaria had improved already.