Walter Miller's Homepage

"Laughter has its source in some kind of meanness or deformity."
-- Cicero

Early Febuary 98 Update

Page 4 of 6

What the doctor did that got me very upset:

This is a small town so word gets around fast about allot of things. The doctor heard abuot the lawsuit with our nieghbors, plus he has been around first hand for a sample of Granfather's intestinal artillery, and so he stopped by with some important litterature. Specifically, a slim booklet known as the Unitad States Departmint of Health & Human Services/Nationol Institutes Of Health Pubblication # 97-4156.

"Why Do I Have Gas?"

That is the more commen name of the booklet. It is a U.S. Govorment publicaton from the Nationol Digestive Diseases Information Clearinghuose. I am not making this up.

Now, a doctor bringing a patient some helpful litterature: I have no problom with that. It fact, "Why Do I Have Gas?" is a nice booklet. It is one of these friendly, touchy-feely pamphlets, which projects a happy One World, It-Takes-A-Village hominess abbout it.

The front covor features pictures of five or six people, with great care given to representing all races, nationalities, and age groups, lest the Govorment face the accusation that they are reppresenting one segment of society as being particulorly more gassy than anothor.

The cover of "Why Do I Have Gas?" was also that neutral, institutionol purple color, which i assume is the unwritten internationol color for bowel problems, much like the whole world uses green or orange for de-caf coffee, while no one knows why.

But the problom that I DO have

The problem I have with the doctor, is the effect that this sort of thing has on the old bastord. This doctor is too stuppid to know that the dire seruiosness of Granfather's intestines cannot be covored in a simple pamphlett. For example: Page 2 and 3 tells you upfront to cut down on brocoli, cabbage, and whole grains like wheat and bran. Now, my whole danm life I have been hearing that whole grains are GOOD things and that we MUST eat them. This thing tells me to do the opposite. In the case of Granfather, he will now be eating MORE of these things. Yes, granfather is one of those statistical anommalies, where if he is told NOT to do somthing, he will do it. He is like those kids who take Sex Educattion in school, and then go out and try it all as much as he can insted of being prudent.

But the worst is Page 4.

Yes, U.S. Goverment publication # 97-4156, a.k.a. "Why Do I Have Gas?" atcually sugests that people "keep a diary" of their farts. It says that the average person farts 14 to 23 times a day. and it says to "also keep track of the number of times you pass gas."

This is all we need: Govorment sponcered encouragement for Granfather's behavior.

"HELL, I'LL GO THRU 23 FARTS JEST WAITIN' FER THE COOL-SITE-OF-THE-DAY TO LOAD UP," muttered the curious beast as he flipped thruogh the sparse booklet.

A new wall decorration for our trailer

Thanks to the danm doctor i now have a giant four-by-eight foot magnetized chart that Granfather FORCES ME TO KEEP IN MY ROOM.

It was an old ancient white magnatized board that was in one of our barns forever. Granfather says he boght it from a big company's office furnitture sale, mabye T.I. or Dell or Compacq about 10 years ago. I woudnt be supprized if the old bastord snuck in late one night and pulled it out of a dumpstor.

The magnet board was covored with cobwebs and bird crap. On Tuesday, after coming home from my one day in the office at work, i saw Junior hurriedly leaving, and as he passed me driving in, he stopped his truck and told me that Granfather paid him $35 to haul it out of the shed and and attach it on the wall in MY ROOM, and he is sorry for the shoddey job but he did it exactley the way Granfather told him too, and all the while he was screamming and hollering at poor Junior and spittin tobaco juice on the back of his fat neck as he worked.

Inside the house the huge "Fart Chart" is secured with giant masonry bolts to the flimsey alunimum trailer wall.

It Is heavy as hell

The weight of it causes an enourmous inward buckle of indentation in the metal wall that runs the lenthgth of the room. I complained that it might fall on my face while i am sleeping and Granfather said in a very haughtey voice "GOOD IT WOUD BE AN IMPROVEMENT." We got in a loud fight, but of cource after an hour or so, i gave in and he won.

There must be 2 thousend little squares evenley ruled onto the chart which all reppresent different times, farts and "fart intensities" based on a scale of 1 to 10, as well as Granfathers schedulle of time and food items of consumption. I regret to say that he is enjoying his new project.

On every TV comercil break, Granfather gleefully wheels into my room with diferent color magic markers in his hands and teeth to fill in the latest of his chart and also to hapilly declaire, "WELL THEN! ONLY TEN MINUTES INTO 'GRACE UNDER FIRE' AND I'M ALREDY UP TO:



    Yes, Granfather alwayes saves somthin for MY room.

    I set up my date

    Yes- I called the girl up and set a date for Friday the 6th. We were on the phone for 40 minuts and we seemed to get along OK. Also she is from California like me. I was smart enuogh to go into town to make my call from a payphone, because i did not want Granfather ruining it by picking up the extension to say gross things. He did that to me once when i was on the phone with a girl.

    The ads run for 2 weeks, and so a second envellope was in the mailbox, and so I was able to grab it before the bastord did--and there were 2 more answors to my ad in there!!! Oh boy this was great--mabye I woud soon have a romantic life, and no more Valontines Days alone.

    Joint counciling

    OK i will admit one thing good that the doctor did. He convinced Granfather to get some councilling. The doctor had once agian showed up at our house, and he was still there Wendsday night when I had arrived back from settin up my first date. I heard screamming from inside, and when i went in, Granfather was hollering at the doctor that he had to LEAVE NOW, because the much cellebrated Fox Network reunion betwean Nancy Kerrigon and Tanya Harding was goingto take place.

    The doctor said, "I will NOT leave, unless you agree to counciling", and he kept pushing this list of locol counsilors into Granpy's face telling him he had to pick one.

    Granfather finnally said OH, OKAY, I WILL DO IT, and then pointed to a name on the list. Of cource, it was the only womon counselor on the list. The doctor also said that he wanted Granfather to meet with the minister agian, because he felt that while he was only a medicol doctor, somthing like spirtuol guidance coudnt hurt. The bastord agreed to this too.

    After the doctor left, I asked him why he sellected the woman's name from the list, and Granfather mumbled to me that if he had to look at some frightenned counselor squirming and jiggling on the couch in discomfort from looking at his ugliness, he'd rathor it be a womon counselor than a man one.

    Then he takes me aside

    It was now 5 minuts before the show started. Granfather told me in his most devilishly and diabolicly evil demonic low, quavoring, thretenning snarl that he coud not stress enuogh how QUIET he wanted me to be during the Harding-Kerigan reunion program. He told me with deep certainty that if i made so much as a peep while the show was on, that he woud peel me alive like a grape with a pair of needle nose pliers and braid the peices into rope jerky to dry in the sun, aftor which him, and Junior and the dogs woud consume it all ovor the next 2 or 3 years as they sat on the porch, saying things to one anothor like, "I WONDER WHERE WALTER RUN OFF TO?" and of course Junior woud be the only one who woud never know the truth.

    I got the messege. I was quiet.

    But HE wasnt.