A Pot of Boiling Oil in the 9th Circle of Hell

 

Some of you may have read my post about the shriveled bat that I tried forcibly helping down the steps.  While I actually didn’t force-help Methuselah down the steps, I should have backed off when she said she could crawl to the banister by herself.  To give a summary of that post, ‘blibbity, bop, clop, cloppity, clack, crack’ is the sound we made when we both fell after she linked her arm into mine to accept my ‘forced help’.  I had asked if she was hurt, if she needed an ambulance – no and no she said.  Frankly I thought the shit was kind of funny.  Eh.  But it seems now that this woman is blaming me for her fall — yes, one might perceive that it was my fault, if they want to look at it that way.  This woman had become friendly with me, told me all these stories– so I was concerned when I saw her trying to get down the stairs.  A few days ago I helped another old woman off of the bus — I will never help another old person again, unless they beg!  This old woman is indeed a devious person who will in a matter of minutes, as she’s 200 years old, die and be relegated to a pot of boiling oil in the 9^th circle of hell.  This is all I’ll say.

On a day of hormonal fluctuation and premenopausal body morphing issues, I feel like a big fat dumbass who should have known better.  But guess what?  I was the only one who got the final Jeopardy answer — Taj Mahal bitch!