Some people can tell you exactly who they are without saying a word, and one senior citizen has left no doubt in our minds that he’s top dog at his retirement community: This old guy has full-on basketballs on his walker.
That’s the walker of an alpha male, no two ways about it.
One look at the fat orange basketballs gracing the bottom of this stooped-over grandpa’s walker tells you everything you need to know about the pecking order at The Meadowlark Springs Nursing Home & Care Center. Unlike the demure hush of the itty-bitty tennis balls adorning the feet of his peers’ walkers, his basketballs make a resonant, unapologetic thunk with each shuffling step, a thunk that says, “This is my fucking nursing home, and the rest of you chumps are all just assisted living in it.” Sure, those big unwieldy balls must run over people’s toes all the time, but this geriatric king probably can’t remember the last time he had to make way for a player with more game than him, and that’s not just the dementia talking.
Old age has gotta be pretty sweet when you’re living basketballs-on-the-walker large like he is. You just know this guy’s pulling widow pussy like nobody’s business—one look at those Spaldings and the Depends are dropping. The cafeteria’s green bean casserole always gets cooked just the way the big man likes it, mushy as hell and heavy on the salt, and if some upjumped little loser makes a stink about that setting off his hypertension, he’ll be scurrying off as fast as his fuzzy green tennis balls can carry him when he hears numero uno dribbling over to have words. And if bossman says he wants to watch Fred Astaire and Rita Hayworth cutting it up in 1942’s “You Were Never Lovelier,” you better fucking believe the next movie night’s gonna be “You Were Never Lovelier,” with Big Mister Basketballs parked right up front exuding the steely eyed dominance of a silverback gorilla.
Dude probably only needs the extra stability of a walker to support the massive cock he’s packing.
We can only imagine how bad Meadowlark Springs’ resident betas must envy the virile authority that seems to come so naturally to this octogenarian pimp, but they have to know deep down that the hierarchy isn’t changing until this guy gets his fill of life and decides to hobble basketballs-first into the next world. Until then, he wants a hit off their oxygen tank? He’s grabbing that nasal cannula without asking. He wants someone else’s medication? He’s slamming that little cup back and taking their water to wash it down. He gets tired of waiting around for somebody’s esophageal cancer to come back so he can put the moves on their missus? Brother, he’s down in the activity room with her shimmying those basketballs around to “The Way You Look Tonight” in a half-tempo foxtrot so smooth she feels like she’s 55 again.
Damn, those basketballs really say it all. Here’s hoping that when we’re old, we have aftermarket walker accessories with even half the swag of this mobility-assisted king.
