-- Bobby Knight
Page 5 of 5
There was this orenge cat and he was yowling and he also jumped on the bed and i was tremnbling. I tried to go under the covers but he kept crawlin under there with me rubbin on my legs. I was afraid he was gointo bite my pecker. Then he sat on my chest and just 4 inches from my face he stuck his leg in the air and leans foward and starts licking his balls and his ass. I swear by its a mirocle by this time I didnt vommit and then he gets closer to me and rubs his furry forhead on my face and then he mashed the wet part of his lips and gums that are under his whiskors right on my nose and eyes. It was wet and slimey and smelled like fish. He was eithor purring or growling. (Granfather makes the same noise sonetimes). Then he turns around and moves his tail like a snake all up and down my face. It was just like in those old movies when a provvocative woman strokes some guy's face with a big feathor.
The next mourning I scrubbed myself off in the showor. I had THUOGHT cats were scared of water but one of them kept jabbin his claw in there like he want to play. Disgusting animol feline bitch. I squoirted him with Phizoderm. Like I said i apologize to my readers who love cats: I dont hate them as much as am scared of them. Also when Im in the showor: My scrotom is NOT a toy.
Plus as you know I am hopeing my face will clear up soon. Then at breakfest Uncle Zeke tells me very offhand that my complextion is gettin worse. But its NOT my fault. Its from the frikkin cats.
The next night, our final night beffore we flew home was the worst of all.
Granfather screamed: "GO TO YER LEFT, BIG BROTHOR...I SAID LEFT, YOU BIG GALOOT BASTERD!"
Uncle Zek's eyes were open but rolled way back so all you coud see was the white part. He was mumbling and also shufflin his giant size 13 shoes on the floor. I tryed to roll over and go to sleep. Then I hear granfather hop out of bed and kneel by the bedroom door and he called to Zeke, NOT YET BIG BROTHOR. YOU GOTTA OPEN THE LID FIRST.
Well i heard the familor click and it was too late cause Uncle Zeke was standing ovor MY LAPTOP DOING GEUSS WHAT.
This is not only the last straw for me but for my Uncle too. The next morning Uncle Zeke asks me to go to the hardware store with him. We leave granfather in the house and drive to a payphone with a large bag of nickels. Uncle Zeke dials up Uncle Willaim in the hospitol and when he gets on the line says to him "TELL THE BOY THE SECRET FEAR OF HIS LITTLE BASTARD BEAST GRANFATHER."
Uncle Wiliam tells me and I am shocked.
Oh, the old bastard. He will GET HIS, i promise you. My uncles made me swear NOT to tell Granfatther that I know what it is. They also made me swear to ONLY use the thing that Granfather fears, the "The Thing With The Name That Is Not Spoken" ONLY in a dire emergencey.
I said to him: Granfather, how coud you HURT me so much.
I'D OF GAVE MUH EXTRA TEAT TO SEE OLE ZEKEY GIT A HUNNERT-AND-TWENNY-VOLT VASECTOMEY IN THEM OLE PUH-JAMMIES HE WEARS said Granfather. NOW THET'S WHUT I CALL 'BANDWITDH', BOY.
Granfather gave me a quizicol look and i wasnt sure if he knew that I KNEW the secret of his fear. It was odd for him to apollogize. Both me & Uncle Zeke were verey quiet on the way to the airport an granfather kept askin us "What we did at the hardwear store." But we never answored. Maybe he figured it out. Or perhapps he noticed my newly calm demmeanor. And yes, I am more calm.
Now, I was originaly planning to reveal Granfathers secret fear, "That with the Name That Is Not Spokken" at the end of this update. But insted i think ill have a little fun with it:
WRITE IT IN TO ME AND I MAY MENTOIN YOUR NAME IN THE NEXT UPDATEYes folks, each e-mail address gets one geuss. Im not sure if Im goin to do this or not because mabye thuosands of people will guess it. but go ahead and guess anyway.
Mail in your guess (or just Send e-mail to me on any subject **EXCEPT** a spam) to: firstname.lastname@example.org.
READ THE OTHER PARTS OF THE MID-APRIL 1997 UPDATE:
Another Instalment of "Legends In The Making" My latest desperate self promotion: The "S.T.L.T.T.W.M.H.P.S.O.T.D"