BOCA RATON, FL - In a development sure to send shockwaves through the actuarial tables, 107-year-old Bartholomew "Bart" Barnaby has officially broken the record for oldest retiree in human history. Mr. Barnaby, a spry former mime known for his interpretive renditions of the mating habits of the sandhill crane, retired from his position as "Greeting Flamingo" at the Boca Raton Flamingo Sanctuary last week.
"Retirement? Who needs it?" chuckled Mr. Barnaby, perched atop a park bench while expertly juggling limes. "I got places to be, things to see, sandcastles to build with my bare hands. Why, just yesterday, I wrestled a gator for its dentures and won!"
While Mr. Barnaby's claims remain unverified (local gator dentists report no missing dentures), his youthful exuberance is undeniable. He spends his days salsa dancing with pigeons, teaching synchronized swimming to the koi in the local pond, and serenading passing motorists with his kazoo rendition of "Baby Shark."
"He's a real firecracker, that Bart," said Mildred Periwinkle, 98, Mr. Barnaby's bridge partner and self-proclaimed "keeper of the prune juice fountain" at the local senior center. "He keeps us young, that's for sure. Why, the other day, he convinced us all to dye our hair green and stage a synchronized lawn chair flash mob. It was glorious!"
Experts are baffled by Mr. Barnaby's vitality. Some attribute it to his daily regimen of pickled mangoes and kombucha enemas, while others suspect a pact with a mischievous swamp sprite.
"Honestly, we have no idea how he does it," admitted Dr. Gertrude Frumpington, gerontologist at the Boca Raton Geriatric Institute. "His blood pressure is that of a teenager, his cholesterol levels make unicorns jealous, and his knees… well, let's just say they're the envy of every tap dancer over 80."
Mr. Barnaby's refusal to retire has sparked a fierce debate across the nation. Some hail him as a symbol of defiance against the tyranny of leisure, while others worry he's setting an unrealistic precedent for future generations.
"What happens when everyone decides to live forever?" questioned Senator Bartholomew T. Frumpington (no relation to Dr. Frumpington), chair of the Senate Subcommittee on Geriatric Napping Hammocks. "Do we build retirement homes on the moon? Do we invent anti-death serums flavored like tapioca pudding? The mind boggles!"
Mr. Barnaby, meanwhile, remains blissfully unconcerned.
"Retirement is for quitters," he declared, balancing a live goldfish on his nose. "I'm going to live this life to the fullest, until the Grim Reaper himself throws in the towel and begs me to teach him the kazoo."
And with that, Mr. Barnaby launched into a spirited rendition of "Bohemian Rhapsody," accompanied by a chorus of enthusiastic pigeons and a slightly bewildered koi. The future may be uncertain, but one thing is clear: Bartholomew Barnaby is living proof that age is just a number, and retirement is a four-letter word he refuses to spell.
