Walking Miss Clarabelle: Why I Hate Old People

It all started with a call from my friend Dave.  Dave works part time at the local senior citizens home taking patients out for their daily walks.  Some people walk dogs for a living; Dave walks old people.  Apparently Dave had lost his wallet the night before, and was now stuck all the way in the Bronx.  He explained that he would definitely be fired if he missed one more day at work, and then begged me to cover for him just this one time.  He pleaded, “Please, I promise you it’s so easy.  My patient’s name is Miss Clarabelle, and I swear she’s literally the sweetest old lady in the world.  All you have to do is go take her on a walk around the block; and then to her favorite little diner on 7^th Ave.  She even pays for lunch, how simple is that?”  Of course I’ve learned from experience that nothing is ever that simple with Dave.  However as much as I had no desire to spend my whole Saturday afternoon “Walking Miss Daisy”, I couldn’t just let my friend lose his job.  Mainly because then his stank feet would be on my couch for the next 3 months.  So, I finally agreed to cover for his ass just this once, for 45 bucks and plus of course the free lunch.

When I arrived at the center, as promised Miss Clarabelle was already sitting in her chair ready to go.  Miss Clarabelle was a little frail 75 year old white woman with varicose veins and smoking a huge cigar.  With a big smile I introduced myself and explained that I would be replacing Dave for the day.  To my surprise, she didn’t say a word.  I assumed she had a bit of a hearing problem, so I repeated myself again much louder.  Still, although she was looking right at me she said absolutely nothing.  At that moment Miss Clarabelle’s day nurse walked in the room and said “Oh she heard just you fine.  She’s just being difficult.  She won’t say too much to you today at all.  Although she may call you a spear chuckin’ nigger if she gets the notion.  But pay her no mind.”  I thought “Wow, this is just great.  I’m stuck for the day babysitting Mel Gibson’s grandmother.  Dave strikes again.”  As I began helping Miss Clarabelle to her walker, the nurse turned to me and said “By the way, did Dave tell you?  Because of Miss Clarabelle’s medical condition; she must go to the bathroom every single day at noon.  If bowel gets backed up in her system, she could get real sick and die.  Now she’s not going to remind you, because she absolutely hates to go.  But it’s extremely important she does.  She doesn’t have a choice.”  I thought “Great, another thing that asshole conveniently forgot to include.”  I swear it never pays to be nice.  Miss Clarabelle and I then began our journey around the streets of Brooklyn.

I quickly learned that nothing on this entire planet is near as excruciating as trying to take an old 75 year old woman for a walk.  Every single step seemed like an eternity.  First, it would take everything she had just to scoot her little walker up literally a whole half an inch.  Then, I’d have to sit there and watch patiently while she spent the next five minutes trying to catch up to it with her feet.  Then if that wasn’t bad enough; every now and then she would somehow get confused and forget which way she was walking.  This of course meant I’d have to wait an additional 6 minutes just for her to untangle her legs and head the right way again.  Believe it or not, it took us close to 45 minutes just to make it out front to the sidewalk.  Finally not able to take it anymore; as soon as we got out of eye range of the building; I placed Miss Clarabelle in the little built in seat and proceeded to push her the rest of the way.  I figured at that rate, summer would be over by the time we made it back.

We finally arrived at the little diner around the block, and sat down for what had to be the most awkward lunch of my life.  The entire time we ate, Miss Clarabelle just sat there and dog stared me in complete silence, while she gummed away at her little low sodium pretzel sticks she brought from home.  I mean, you could literally hear a pin drop at the table.  This lunch could not go by fast enough.  I just happened to look at the clock and realize it was noon.  Remembering the stiff warning I got from the nurse, I immediately sprung into action.  The following is a transcript of our conversation:

Me:  Uhhm Miss Clarabelle.  You see the clock?  It’s 12:00pm.

Clarabelle:  So.

Me:  Well, you have to go to the restroom right?

Clarabelle:  No I don’t.

Me:  But your nurse said you have to go every day at noon.

Clarabelle:  I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Me:  She said it’s kind of crucial that you go, or else you’ll get sick.

Clarabelle:  I don’t have to go.  I went before we left.

Completely baffled, I’m now thinking “Well if she doesn’t have to go, I certainly can’t make her.”  Just to be safe, I called up the nurse and informed her that she obviously didn’t have to go.  The nurse then replied, “Don’t pay her any mind.  She does this all the time.  You need to make her go otherwise she will die.”  I thought “WTF!!  I basically had minutes to force Miss Clarabelle to go pee against her will; or else end up with an old dead white woman on my hands.  What kind of a f*cked up Bruce Willis movie was this?  I felt like I was starring in “Pee Hard 2 With a Vengeance”.  This was not how I imagined my Saturday afternoon going.  I finally took a deep breath; and then calmly explained, “Miss Clarabelle, I just spoke with your nurse.  She says that you have to go to the restroom whether you want to or not.  Now either we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way.  It’s up to you?”  Miss Clarabelle just looked away and began whistling like I wasn’t even there.  I realized then that this was not going to be pretty.

Determined to save this old lady’s life, I stood up from my seat and exclaimed, “Okay Miss Clarabelle, time to go make water.”  To my surprise, as slow as she moves; she suddenly jumped up without her walker and tried to make a mad dash for the door.  Or at least her version of  one.  The diner was small and pretty narrow, with about 5 booths on each side and a little restroom back in the center of the room, just big enough for a toilet and a sink.  With no other choice; I grabbed Miss Clarabelle by the arm, and literally began pulling her back to the restroom kicking and screaming.  Now picture me; a little 5’6 Black guy; struggling to pull this 75 year old white woman into a public restroom against her will while everyone in the whole diner looks on.  In that instant I thought, “Why does this sh*t always end up happening to me?”  Of course being the only Black guy in the place, I could only imagine what was going through everyone’s head.  I’m sure they all thought I was some perverted little geriatric rapist, out for some poontane at any cost.  Any second now, I just knew someone was going to reach for their pepper spray.  After about several minutes of us seriously struggling in the middle of this dining room; one of the ladies eating at the counter shouted out “The other guy usually just carries her in there.  It’s much easier that way.”  Then everyone went back to eating as if this happens every single day.  I immediately thought, “I’m gonna kill that f*ckin Dave!”  Then just as she suggested, I picked Clarabelle’s old ass up over my shoulders, and carried her into the restroom with her screaming and fighting.

Once inside the little bathroom stall, Clarabelle still refused to go.  For the next 10 minutes I had to literally wrestle with her to get her panties and stockings down; while she tried to bite my hands with her dentures.  I thought, “Man…this picture is wrong on soooo many levels.”  As soon as I finally managed to get her little old lady stockings down below her saggy ass; she quickly crisscrossed her legs so I couldn’t get them down below her knees.  This old brawd had skills.  When I still didn’t give up, she yelled out “Rape!  Rape!  There’s a spear chuckin’ nigger in here trying to rape me!”  I then heard a random female voice yell casually back from the other side, “Clarabelle honey, you know its noon!  You have to go or you’ll get sick and die!”  I guess Clarabelle finally exhausted herself out and decided to give in; and talk about “Thar she blows.”  The second her old ass hit the seat it was like a giant pee bomb suddenly went off inside her vagina.  Honestly, I had no idea pee could even shoot out at that velocity.  And nothing on this entire planet, can compare to the odor of a 75 year old woman’s piss.  The flies in the room even had a look on their faces like, “Man…what the f*ck is that?”  I mean; I’ve even been tear gassed before, but tear gas had nothing on Miss Clarabelle’s piss.  I could physically see the oxygen leaving the room.  I quickly realized if that was what number 1 smelled like; there was no way in hell I was waiting around for number 2.  Unable to hold my breath a second longer, I mustered up enough strength to say, “Miss Clarabelle I’m going to step out for a moment and give you your privacy.”

I went back to my seat and attempted to catch my breath for a few minutes.  I seriously could not believe what I had just gone through.  I immediately pulled out my phone and tried to call Dave, but of course that bastard was nowhere to be found.   I eventually calmed down when I realized that as crazy as that whole ordeal was; I was just beyond grateful that the difficult part was now at least over.   I thought, “Finally, I can finish up my little lunch in peace.”  Just then; the bathroom door suddenly swings wide open; and Miss Clarabelle is sitting there on the toilet with her panties down to her ankles, for the whole world to see.  Then… at the top of her lunges; she yells out,”Okay I’m done.  You can come wipe me now!!!”

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