“Alright, Young Lady. I’ve finally got this Medical Gadget hung around my neck like you wanted,” Mr. Roy said wryly.
“And I am deeply grateful for it, Mr. Roy. It only took me three months to talk you into it,” Maybelle said with a small grin.
“Harumph, I just didn’t want to be encumbered by having to wear this Gizmo twenty-four-seven. But you finally convinced me that since I don’t want anybody staying with me at night yet, that it would set your, and my Boys minds to rest, and get you all off of my back about it,” Mr. Roy complained a bit grumpily.
“Thank you, again, Mr. Roy. And it should also make you feel easier about the times you spend alone here at your home, sir. If you are in any physical stress at all, Mr. Roy, all you have to do is mash down on this big plastic button on your necklace, and Help will come,” Maybelle explained for the fourth time.
“I know. I know. I understand how it works, Maybelle. There’s nothing wrong with my memory. Or at least not yet, that is,”
“Now, can I get back to my News program ?” Mr. Roy asked impatiently.
“Yes sir, and while you do that I’ll start dinner. I got the makings for your chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, broccoli and southern corn bread at the grocery store on my way over earlier today,” Maybelle said brightly.
Mr. Roy’s eyes lit up, and he smiled saying, “I’ll have to do things your way more often, Maybelle, if it’ll get me a chicken fried steak with all of the fixing’s.”
“What’s on the news today, Mr. Roy ? I’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t had time to listen to it as of late.”
“Did you hear about that White Nationalist murdering all of those folks going to Church in New Zealand yesterday ?
“Yes sir, Sam said something to me about it when I got home last night,” Maybelle said as she began Mr. Roy’s dinner. “And didn’t that horrible young man murder Men, Women and Children praising God at two separate Mosques in New Zealand ?”
“I believe you’re right, Maybelle,” Mr. Roy agreed seriously. “And he left behind some kind of idiotic Manifesto explaining all of his fear-based and hateful reasonings for doing it. Seems he’s part of some Internet Gang of White Nationalists who are no better than those fear-based and hateful ISIS or Taliban bunch of Muslim Radicals,” Mr. Roy said disdainfully.
“If you ask me, Mr. Roy Terrorists are all the same,” Maybelle said definitively. “They are all fear-based and hate filled folks who convince themselves that their Hate and Fear are justified by their version of God in whatever Religion they were raised up in or converted to. Or just out of plain old Meanness of Spirit.”
“Bottom line is that they wanna’ Kill and Destroy other Human Beings and their Lives. They want to disrupt and destroy what Is for whatever Controlled by Them Hell they think it should be,” Maybelle continued. “Who in the world could ever trust a bunch of murdering thugs like that to Create anything good in this World or any other World for that matter ?”
“We just All need to come Together and say, “No more ! And Wake up and Embrace the Love of Jesus or Mohammed or Buddha or Yahweh or whoever your God is and stop the killing ” to all of the fear-based and hateful folks around the World thinking about Terrorism or already in the throes of it.”
“We’re All Immigrants from one place or another from some distant time or another. And we’re all different from one another in one way or another. These are not Reasons to go around killing one another over anything or anyone, because Life is too Precious a Gift to waste like that,” Maybelle said emphatically.
“You’ll get no argument from me on that account, Maybelle,” Mr. Roy replied as he raised himself slowly from his reclining chair.
“Do you need help getting to the restroom, Mr. Roy ?” Maybelle asked as she wiped her flour dusted hands clean on a dish towel before heading over to give Mr. Roy a hand.
“No, no. You just continue on with dinner. My stomach has been rumbling ever since you told me that you’re fixing me that chicken fried steak,” Mr. Roy grinned.
Maybelle saw the strength within Mr. Roy’s body movements, and said, “Alright then. But you give me a holler if you need me.”
“I promise,” Mr. Roy said as he headed down the hallway to the restroom.
A little while later, as Maybelle began to fix the milk gravy for the chicken fried steak, the doorbell rang. She wiped her hands clean and went to answer the door.
Maybelle was shocked to see the flashing red lights of the neighborhood fire truck and ambulance parked in front of Mr. Roy’s house, and three Medical Paramedics standing on Mr. Roy’s front porch ready for action.
“We got a call at the station for an Emergency here at your home, but could get no answer by phone,” One of the tall Paramedics explained.
“Are you sure it was this address ?” Maybelle inquired, still in shock and clinging to the dishtowel in her hands.
“Yes,” the female Paramedic said concisely as they all three moved on into the house with a long board bed covered in body straps, as Maybelle backed out of their way, and headed down the hallway saying, “Y’all, please, wait just one moment, while I check on Mr. Roy. He’s in the bathroom.”
“Maybelle tapped on the bathroom door saying, “Mr. Roy ?”
“Yes, what is it, Maybelle,” Mr. Roy asked.
“Are you alright, sir ?”
“Yes, Maybelle, I am fine. I’m just trying to do a number two, so it’s taking a little time. I want to make sure I have plenty room for that chicken fried steak dinner you’re whipping up for me, Young Lady.”
“May I come in, sir ?”
“If you must, but I would rather have my privacy…..”
Maybelle did not wait for Mr. Roy to finish his reply. She opened the bathroom door and found him sitting on the toilet with his Wall Street Journal opened in his hands. He always read the Wall Street Journal in the bathroom. Sometimes he’d sit on the toilet for an hour reading his Wall Street Journal while waiting for other relieving results.
“Mr. Roy, did you accidentally push the Medical Button on your necklace,
sir ?”
“No, I pushed it quite on purpose, Maybelle. I thought I’d give it trial run,” Mr. Roy said matter-of-factly.
“Sir, when you pushed that Button, it called the company you contracted with, and when they couldn’t reach anyone here, because both you and I were busy, and the television is turned up loud so that you can hear it, but neither one of us can hear anything else, they called our neighborhood Emergency Folks, and they are here to take you to the hospital,” Maybelle explained quickly.
“Are you alright, sir ?” The tall Paramedic called out and into the bathroom from the hallway.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. I was just checking out this Medical Gizmo around my neck to see if it worked.” Mr. Roy shouted. “Looks like it works,” Mr. Roy said flatly.
Maybelle saw the Three Paramedics almost roll their eyes at one another, but instead, the two male Paramedics backed-up down the hallway with the bed board and walked it back to the ambulance. The female Paramedic smiled kindly at Maybelle, and stayed behind to offer support.
“Mr. Roy, these fine folks are going to have to bill you for your calling them over here for an Emergency, sir,” Maybelle said calmly.
“Bill me ? For what ? I was just checking this Contraption out to see if it worked !” Mr. Roy said abruptly.
“Mr. Roy, you can’t play games like this with your Medical Alert Button, sir. When you push it, folks take it very seriously, and all kinds of things get set into motion to Help you. You have wasted these good people’s time and efforts. What if someone else really needed their Help while they were spending all of their time rushing over here to Help you ?” Maybelle asked plainly.
“Well, I never,” Mr. Roy said crossly, before stopping himself. He folded his Wall Street Journal and placed it into his magazine bin. “Let me get up from here, so I can apologize to everyone. I swear, all of this fuss over my pushing a little, old Button hanging around my neck. You‘d think I was a Terrorist or something the way everyone‘s behaving.”
“Yes sir,” Maybelle said, as she left the bathroom and walked down the hall with the female Paramedic. Apologizing profusely all of the way into the foyer.
“And thank y’all once again for your Service to the Community,” Maybelle said earnestly to the Paramedics as she waved them and the fire truck off as they pulled away from Mr. Roy’s front curb.
“Is my chicken fried steak dinner ready yet, Maybelle ? I’m famished,” Mr. Roy yelled from the kitchen as he picked up the lid from the largest skillet to inspect its contents.
“Did you apologize enough for the both of us, to the young Medical people, Maybelle,” Mr. Roy asked almost flippantly.
“I’m not sure that there is any way to truly apologize for what you did, Mr. Roy. And I really need for you to promise me that you will never push that Button again unless you are really in some kind of a Medical Emergency, sir.”
“I promise, Maybelle. I promise. I will keep my Trigger Happy Thumb at bay,” Mr. Roy said seriously. “Now, I want my dinner served to me in the living room, so I can watch my News program. I’ve had quite enough excitement for one day, and I never got the results I was seeking while reading my Wall Street Journal. One could say that I am a bit back-logged.”
Both Maybelle and Mr. Roy looked at one another for an instant and laughed out loud.