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Blog Wheel: The Darkside of Retirement Homes

Giphy Images.

Welcome back to another edition of Blog Wheel. I've noticed a disturbing trend over the last couple weeks. That trend is the trend of people sending me bad ideas. Obviously, I could not let this trend continue. I needed to come up with a way to limit the bad ideas, so I decided that the person who sends me the worst idea of the week will be blocked. I'm not sure how long they will remain blocked. I might feel bad and unblock them after 1 hour, or they could remain blocked forever. I will have to wait and see how I feel. Here are the worst ideas from this week.

I left it up to a Twitter poll, and unfortunately Jaden Lewandowski had to go. Bad idea, Jaden. I didn't care for it one bit.

Here is the official spin.

Thank you for the good idea, Teddy. Now that I have provided a recap of my tweets, it is time to write.

The Dark Side of Retirement Homes

I admittedly do not know a lot about retirement homes. I had a grandpa who lived in one for a period of time, but I was a bad grandson so I only visited once. 

Now, I would hate to make things up, or paint a picture of a retirement home that is anything less than 100% accurate, so I decided to take a boots on the ground approach to this blog. I found a nearby retirement home and paid it a visit. My goal was to get to the bottom of what really goes on inside those walls.

I walked into the front door and a lady introduced herself as the manager. However, her desk was in the lobby so I suspected she was more of a receptionist. Women hate being called receptionists. Receptionist is the new R-word. She told me if I wanted a tour, I would have to sit in a wheelchair. Retirement home policy is that all visitors must be shown around in a wheelchair.

I sat waiting in my chair for about 30 minutes, until a burly man with hairy arms finally came out to get me. His name was Brently. Brently asked me what I was doing. I told him I was looking for the truth. He gave me a firm handshake and proceeded to push me through the halls.

I tried to gather as much information from Brently as I could, but he didn't give me much. He told me that this was a fairly small retirement home, consisting of only 20 residents. I told him I wanted to speak to each and every one. We started in the cafeteria.

Louise - Woman, 84 years old

I sent Brently away to get me a pudding, and struck up a conversation with an old sickly woman named Louise. She both looked and sounded like a cigarette. I told her to give it to me straight. I wanted to know all the dirt. She asked me if I was going to buy Cutco Knives from Christopher later. I gave her a maybe and moved on to the next person. 

Veronica - Woman, 85 years old

Brently returned with my pudding, and was joined by a woman named Veronica. Veronica had seen me talking to Louise. She wanted to let me know that Christopher was a dirty hippy, but he had the best knives in town.

Julie - Woman, 94 years old

I wheeled up to a table where there was a single woman eating peaches out of a plastic cup. Her name was Julie. Julie was the oldest person I'd met yet, but she was surprisingly sharp. She didn't say much at first, but when Brently excused himself to use the restroom, she leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Follow the knives".

Paolo - Man, 80 years old

There was nobody left in the cafeteria, so I had Brently take me to the resident's living quarters. I told him I wanted to meet the resident with the nicest room in the whole place. I figured whoever had the nicest room must be high up on the chain of command. It turned out that man was Christopher. I rang his buzzer, and a teeny tiny person cracked open the door. The man was no more than 5 feet tall, but he wasn't Christopher. He was Christopher's small friend Paolo. In a cute high pitched voice, Paolo told me that Leonard was "no here". I asked where he was, and Paolo said he was "at business". I tried to get Paolo to elaborate, but he shook his head no and closed the door in my face. 

Broussard - Man, 85 years old

Since Christopher was unavailable, we knocked on the door of his neighbor Broussard. Broussard was a native of Lafayette, Louisiana. He had a thick Cajun accent. He was thrilled to have visitors and invited us in for gumbo. I pulled up to his dining room table and Broussard served me a bowl of gumbo with a knife. I asked him why anyone would eat gumbo with a knife, and he said, "Because they're the best knives in town."

Lorenzo - Man, 88 years old

After knifing gumbo in Broussard's room for over an hour, I thanked him for the meal and moved on to the next room. As we walked out the door, we were passed by a man named Lorenzo. Lorenzo seemed nice, but he was clearly in a hurry to get back to his room. He kept repeating the same line, "I can't miss knife check. I can't miss knife check."

We followed Lorenzo from a distance as he scurried back to his room. No more than a minute after he walked in, Paolo emerged from around the corner and knocked on his door, "Knife check! Knife check!"

"What the hell is knife check?" I asked Brently. Brently fell quiet. He clearly knew something I didn't, but he wasn't going to tell me.

Tolbert - Man 90 years old

The next door we knocked on was that of a resident named Tolbert. Tolbert wore thick black wraparound sunglasses and walked with a white cane. He was a blind man. He invited us inside. The first thing I noticed was his aquarium. It was a beautiful aquarium full of exotic fish. I thought it was weird that a blind man had such a magnificent tank, but before I could say anything, someone covered my face with a cold wet cloth. It smelled like chloroform.

Groog - Man, 60 years old

I woke up in a daze. I was in a cold, damp room. I was tied to my wheelchair. Above me was a leaky pipe that dripped sewage onto my head. As I slowly started to gain consciousness, I realized that I wasn't alone. I heard a loud moan and the rattling of chains coming from a dimly lit corner. It sounded like a cross between a Wookie and Sloth from The Goonies. As my eyes adjusted, I could tell this man looked almost identical to Sloth from The Goonies. I was locked in a dark basement with a Sloth from The Goonies type of character - that's the picture I'm trying to paint for you here.

I was down there for hours. I asked the man if I could call him Groog. He moaned loudly so I took that as a yes. I spent my time trying to communicate with Groog, but he didn't speak a lick of English. Groog was chained to a wall, but I could tell the chains were old and rusty. Groog was a man of great size and strength, so I knew he would be able to break out of the chains if he wanted to.

That's when I had a brilliant idea. There was a lantern in the middle of the floor that cast a shadow onto the back wall. If I could just make a scary shadow puppet, it would spook Groog, and he would break free of the chains. Once Groog broke free, I would hopefully be able to get him to untie me as well.

Beth - Woman, 49 years old

Before I could even make a shadow puppet, I heard someone coming down the stairs. It was the youngest woman I had seen in hours. I was very turned on. Her name was Beth. She brought Groog and I each a bowl of slop for dinner. Beth didn't say much, but I could tell she had a soft spot for us. I had a change of plans. No more shadow puppets. I was going to seduce Beth. 

So, I blew Beth a kiss and started to take off my pants. It did not go as planned. Beth pulled a gun out from behind her back and pistol whipped me across the face. She then tipped my wheelchair to the floor and smashed my face over and over again with the butt of the gun. My nose was shattered and I had lost multiple teeth. Beth gave me one final kick to the ribs for good measure, then walked back up the stairs. I didn't even get to touch my slop.

I switched gears back to my shadow puppet plan. I hadn't made shadow puppets in years, so I was a bit rusty. However, after some trial and error, I was able to make a frightening grizzly bear. 

When Groog saw the bear, he went berserk. For a big monster person, Groog scared easily. He was terrified of bears. He took off in a full sprint and easily broke free of his chains. After he broke free, he sprinted directly passed me and up the stairs. The door at the top of the stairs was locked, but it didn't matter. Groog ran directly through it, leaving a Groog shaped hole in the door. About 3 seconds later, I heard a gunshot, followed by a loud thud. Someone upstairs had shot and killed Groog.

Aleksandr - Man, 38 years old

No more than a minute later, a dead Groog came rolling down the stairs. His head smashed against the floor and blood poured out of his ears. Following Groog's limp lifeless body was a heavily tattooed Russian man named Aleksandr.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs he said, "Hello, I'm Alexsandr. You killed this guy."

I replied, "I would argue that you him killed, but ok."

Aleksandr struck me across the face with sawed-off shotgun. At this point, my face was so beaten to shit that I didn't even feel it. "You hit like a Ukranian." I said to him.

He responded, "That's a fucked up thing for you to say. I don't support the war on Ukraine. Putin is an asshole. The country of Ukraine does not deserve this war."

That took me back a bit, "Damn, I just assumed you were a big Putin guy."

"Everybody thinks that because I am mean and have tattoos, but most Russians do not support Putin. We are all just too scared to speak out against him. It's a terrible situation."

I apologized, "I'm so sorry, I guess I shouldn't assume things like that."

"Yes you really shouldn't", Aleksandr said as he threw me a dirty towel and walked back up the stairs.

Harold - Man, 97 years old

As I cleaned myself up with Aleksander's dirty Russian towel, an old crotchety man came walking down the stairs. When he got to the bottom, he tripped over Groog's dead body and fell to the ground. His old, bald head slapped against pavement, and a single Cutco Knife flew out of his front shirt pocket. He was out cold.

I was able to reach the knife and cut myself free from the wheelchair. Once I was free, I rifled through the old man's pockets. I found his ID. His name was Harold. I stole his gun, his credit cards, then I dragged my wheelchair up the stairs. 

When I got to the top of the stairs, I realized I was no longer in the nursing home. I was in what could only be described as a trap house. But instead of drugs, there were knives everywhere. Cases upon cases of knives were stacked up to the ceiling. There were loose knives of all sizes scattered about the floor. As I moved my way through the house, I saw Beth & Aleksandr taking a nap on the couch. I snuck up on them and put bullets in both of their heads.

At this point, I should have cut my losses and walked home. I was in way too deep. There was nobody else in the house. I would have been free to go, but I wasn't satisfied. When the blog wheel landed on "The Dark Side of Retirement Homes", I made a promise to myself and to the good readers of BarstoolSports.com that I would see this thing through.

I got my bearings, and wheeled my way back to the retirement home. I had no idea what I was going to do when I got back to the home. Not even a little bit. I'm not even sure how I got to this point. But I had to think of something. If I just keep typing- I mean "moving forward with my investigation", then eventually this will all come to a logical conclusion and I will be able to move on with my life.

When I got back to the retirement home, there was nobody there to greet me. It was eerily quiet. I couldn't find a single person. I wheeled around for a while until I finally heard some cheering off in the distance. I followed my ears. They lead me to a set of double doors. Above the double doors was a sign that read, "Activity Room".

Christopher - Man, 68 years old

I opened the doors to the Activity Room. It was a wild scene. Everybody was in there. We Will Rock you by Queen was blaring so loud I could barely hear myself think. All of the residents were screaming bloody joy. Old ladies raised their walkers above their heads. Men who could barely walk were standing on tables, throwing their wheelchairs across the room. There was a man on stage at the front of the room with a long white ponytail. He was throwing knives into the crowd. I knew that man was Christopher. As I looked closer, I could see that Christopher was wearing a spiral medallion around his neck. It all made sense now. Christopher was hypnotizing the residents into buying his knives. The residents had gone crazy for knives. They started to mosh. Old men and women were slamming into each other at full speed. It was a blood bath. The mosh pit went on for nearly an hour until suddenly, the music stopped. As soon as the music stopped, everything went back to normal. The residents gathered their walkers and located their respective wheelchairs. Then, each and every resident made their way up to the front stage. They all took turns writing Christopher a check in exchange for multiple cases of knives. Slowly, the residents filed out the door and back towards their rooms.

I could see Christopher getting ready to make an exit out the back. I went to follow him, but before I could get to the door, someone grabbed my chair from behind.

Mattress Mack - Man, 71 years old

I looked back to see who had grabbed my chair, and to my surprise it was none other than Mattress Mack. For those unfamiliar with Mattress Mack, he is a businessman in Houston, TX who sells mattresses. He is most famous for running a Houston Astros World Series/Free Mattress Promotion.

Mattress Mack The Washington Post. Getty Images.

Here is how his promotion works (I think):

1. Mattress Mack says he will refund every customer who buys a mattress for the full price of the mattress if the Houston Astros win the World Series

2. A bunch of people buy his mattresses, and Mattress Mack makes a shit load of money

3. Mattress Mack bets millions of his own dollars on the Houston Astros

4. If the Houston Astros win the World Series, he wins his bet, and then has the money to refund everyone who bought a mattress. If the Astros don't win, then he just keeps all of his mattress profits and probably breaks even anyways.

Mattress Mack slowly wheeled me back across the Activity Room and pushed me into a small closet. He joined me in the closet and closed the door. We started talking.

Me: "Mattress?! What gives? What are you doing here?"

Mattress Mack: "So you're the man who's been snooping around in my business?" 

Me: "I don't know what you're talking about, Mattress! I'm going after Christopher. He's running some sort of old people-hypnosis-knives scheme."

Mattress Mack: "First off, stop calling me Mattress. Second, Chris is my business partner. We're in this together."

Me: "Say it ain't so, old man! Why are you running an old-people-hypnosis-knives scheme?" 

Mattress Mack: "The mattress business ain't what it used to be kid. I haven't turned a profit since 2010. I was getting ready to go out of business for good, until Christopher knocked on my door to sell me knives one day. "

Me: "Tell me more."

Mattress Mack: "All I remember is that I opened the door to let him in, and instantly blacked out. I woke up in my backyard 2 hours later surrounded by 20 cases of Cutco Knives. I knew that he was the type of man I wanted to go into business with."

Mattress Mack went on to explain their business. He tracked Christopher down the next day. Before Mattress Mack came along, Christopher would go door to door hypnotizing individual home owners into buying his knives. Mattress Mack helped him take his business to the next level. Retirement homes were some of Mattress Mack's best clients, so he had a ton of connections in the industry. For the last 12 years, the two of them have been driving across the country hypnotizing old people into spending all of their money on Cutco Knives. 

Mattress Mack would use his connections to get Christopher checked into the best retirement homes. Christopher would then hold a series of old-people-hypnosis-knives presentations until he had bled their bank accounts dry. Once the residents were out of money, they would move on to the next home.

This was the final presentation at this retirement home. Mattress Mack and Christopher were about to head up state to hit a new location in Albany. Mattress Mack re-tied me to my wheel chair, duct taped my mouth shut, and locked me in the closet. The two criminals loaded up their belongings into their truck and drove away into the night.

Ricardo - FBI Agent, 40 years old

I was trapped in the closet for hours, sick to my stomach that I had let them get away with this. Finally, someone opened the closet door. It was an FBI Agent named Ricardo. The FBI had been trailing Christopher and Mattress Mack for months waiting for the perfect time to strike. They were finally going to catch them that day. I had ruined their operation.

Earlier that day, the FBI raided Mattress Mack & Christopher's trap house full of knives. They knew they would be stopping by the house after the presentation, and planned to arrest them then.

Brently was working undercover for the FBI on the inside of the retirement home. He wouldn't tell me anything all day because he didn't want me to spoil the investigation. He could tell I was about to mess things up, so he chloroformed my face and took me to the basement of the trap house to get me out of the way.

The two people I shot in the head, Aleksandr and Beth, were FBI agents as well. They were keeping an eye on me while they waited at the trap house for Mattress Mack & Christopher to return. It seemed unprofessional that they beat the shit out of me, but I suppose it rubbed them the wrong way when I tried to take my pants off in front of Beth.

Harold was actually Beth's dad. He had brought Beth and Aleksandr a casserole to eat while they waited for Mattress Mack & Christopher to return to the house. He must have been checking on the noises coming from the basement when he tripped over Groog and died.

I never got an explanation for Groog.

FBI Agent Ricardo said that when he got back to the trap house, all of the knives were cleared out. Since everyone inside the house was dead (due to me), there was nobody there to arrest them when they came back to get all of their things. Mattress Mack & Christopher are still on the lam. 

This concludes my investigation on The Dark Side of Retirement Homes. I am sorry. I will be going on trial for murdering federal agents next month.