Because the poor dear was several sandwiches short of a picnic, the other residents tolerated her eccentric behavior, and some of them even joined in the fun.
One day Ethel was speeding along one of the corridors when a man stepped out of one of the doorways with his arm outstretched: “Stop!” he said firmly. “Have you got a
license for that thing?”
Ethel fished around in her handbag and pulled out a
Kit-Kat wrapper, which she handed to him with a big smile. “OK,” he said, and off she went again.
Taking the corner by the TV lounge on one wheel as
usual, she found another man standing in the corridor in front of her. “Stop!” he said firmly, “Have you got a valid registration for that vehicle, madam?”
Ethel dug into her handbag again and came up with a well-used beer mat, which she presented for inspection. Whereupon she was sent on her way once more.
Heading down the last corridor before the front door, a third man stepped out in front of her. He was stark naked, and holding a sizable erection in one hand. “Oh, no,” cried Ethel, “Not the breathalyzer again!”