My dad is like that. He tells the same stories over and over, nearly word for word, like a performance. He’s always been a natural-born raconteur, and he hasn’t lost that at all. His story about how he and his brother, in their teens, stole/kidnapped a rival’s girlfriend and kept her hostage for a few hours (and got them both expelled from school) has me holding my sides from laughing so hard every time he tells it.
However, ask him at noon what he had for breakfast:
“Breakfast? Did I even eat breakfast? I don’t know, but if I did, it was probably pretty sorry.”
He drives my brother bonkers, because my mom will stop in to see him, and she’s become friendly with some of the people who work there, so she’ll step out for a few minutes to visit one of them for a few minutes, and before she can get back, he’ll call my brother and say, “I think it’s jus’ pitiful that I been sittin’ here all day, an’ there ain’t been one single person to come see me! Pitiful!”
“Dad…Mom’s there right now. I dropped her off a half-hour ago. She’s probably just saying hi to someone or in the bathroom.”
“Oh, is she? Well, that’s all right, then! Yippee!”
Yes, he actually shouts yippee into the phone, and that happens in one form or another every day, some times more than once.