Walter Miller's Homepage

One of the places where you may just find fiction to be strangor than fact.

Mid-Decembor 1997 Update

Page 5 of 6

After the booth was all set up, me and a couple of the othor people from Netly took about two hours on Wendsday morning to walk the floor. They got a little upset with me becuase i kept running ahead and then calling back to them down the aisle saying "Hey guys look at this booth!" and they were sayying RELAX we will see it all.

Then somthin hapenned at lunch on Wendsday that anoyyed them. I have kind of a weak stomoch and i coudnt eat any of the consession food at the Conventoin Center. There are not allot of places to eat nearby so we had to walk uptown. I was with Noah, who is my boss, and also Noah's boss, and at every restuarant we stopped at, i looked in the window and said: "We bettor not eat here."

After a while we walked like 25 blocks and they got pissed and started sayin: "Can we eat HERE Walter?" Can we eat HERE??"

It was cold and snowing and i shoud of made a decision but i coud not.

I have problems making descisoins in my life.

Finaly they chose a place that i was affraid of eating there, but the food turned out OK.

Then somthin bad hapened during lunch. Right when we were sittin at the table, I got that stupid air bubbol agian that I had on the airplane and I was sort of twitching and heaving to get it loose. If you ever had one it feels like a danm charley horse in your lung. I can NOT help it. I said that we had to imediatly leave and get some Tums or somthing. Well, Noah's boss said he was tired of walkin around in the snow and was NOT leaving so insted Noha went out to the newsstand next door and got me some Rollaids, but when he came back i told him that i preferred Tums, because while both control discomfort, Rolliads contains an alunimum salt, while Tums has calcium, which my body needs anyway.

Plus during lunch i was playing with my Tamagotchi when i shoud of been paying atention. But only for like, 30 seconds because othorwise the Tamagohti woud of died. I know, it was immature. Maturitty is a target area of inprovement i am working on in my life.

I also shoud not of been talkin to them in my fake New York acent. My mother who is now deceaced was from Brooklin so i can do it pretty well. (A while back I fooled one of these guys once realy good.) I think they thoght it was insulting but i was just tryin to be funny. I am not very funny in persen.

When we were finished i said "So guys what time shoud we meet for supper?" and they said for me to go on ahead and make supper plans for myself becuase they had a speciel Managor's Meeting they had to go to that they both had forgotton about] until just now.

On the cab ride back to the Conventon Center (we had to take a cab because we had walked so far), i saw Noa's boss take the Tums out of Noa's hand and he ate like, half the roll.

I spent most of the next day at the office and Friday i got to meet up with the guy who had wanted to prodduce the cartoons. (The guy who didnt belive I existed). I am glad we met, because we were able to contineue the conversation we had after he called me at home the week prior.

He is one of these sharp-egded nervous burnt out content developpors. This industrey is only, like less than 3 years old yet theres so many burnt out people its not funny.

Well anyway he dialed into his server to show me some more samples of the artist's rendorings of me and the bastord for the propposed comic strip site.

It is kind of an interresting set up. He hired this artist, but part of the deal is that the artist must NEVER see me or Granfather in real life. This is to protect Granfather's privacy. And it is also because many of my readors do not want to see a real-life depiction. It will be sort of an "everyman's" deppiction, and will be based solely from my writings. (Also,--and people whove never seen him dont know this--but Granfather is so monstrousley hiddeous in real life that he shoud NOT be portrayed acurratly.)

I saw a numbor of treatments of the cartoons. The producor reitorated that it was TOO BAD that Granfather has Tom the Testy coght in that tub, and told me once more that if I wanted them to line up sponsors then the salespeopple are insisting that I would have to allow them to edit my episodes. Because like he said, "Their Standord is television, so it cant be worse than anything you see on telvision."

Then he checked his e-mail--a mesage from the Beast

Well living proof that TV is worse than the web is that Granfather is not on TV yet. The old bastord had sent us an e-mail and told us to please write him back at this certian ID at exactley 2 PM Central Time, because he was going to teleconference with us over a CU-See Me connection.

So we did and GEUSS WHAT: There was the old monstor on Cu-SEE Me at 14 frames a minute in frightening bloodcourdling living color. Yes the scientists took the bastord for a ride to the college where there he was hollering and screamin and writhing, live from the basement lab.

He started screamin at the producor.


Granfather was livvid. The three scientists were there too, and i coud tell they were distruoght. They probaly realized how much of a pickol theyd got themselves in for by agreeing to babysit the bastord for a few days, and were now sorrier than hell.

I saw on the screen a jerky image of Granfather. He was wavving arround these sheets of papper, and there in the hot tub surrounding his thrashing nakad body were a bunch of videotapes. He shoutad into the small micraphone: "THEM'S HERE IS MUH T.V. TAPES, AN' I'M GONNA FAX YOU ALL SOME RESEARCH I DONE DID."

As you know, because i wrote abbout it in the past, in adition to many square acres of wourthless collectibles, Granfather also has thousonds of hours of TV shows on tapes. He stores them in a coupol of barns, and each day he makes more tapes for his so-called 'archives'.

We gave him the fax numbor of the booth, and the old bastord trundoled off screen on the little castor wheels we put under the tub. There seemed to be turds and crap and allot of spit and snot allover the lab floor and countors.

Off camera, we coud tell Granfather was faxing us somthing. We know this cause he was screamming, "ITS MAKIN' THE DANM TWEETY NOISE. SO WHEN THE HELL DO I PRESS 'SEND', GARDANGIT!!!"

One of the sceintists was curled on the floor, holding his head and rocking like a disturbed child, and wept.

While the bastord faxed, a wad of SOMTHING (and i dont want to think of WHAT), flew onto the CU See Me camera on their end of the conection, and me and the othor guy i was with in New York instinktively leaped away from the screen on our end as it sudenly darkened it fully from the splash.

As the viscous mattor dripped off the camera I saw in the backround that anothor one of the scientists was knelt on the floor throwing up into one of those red plastic bucketts that says BIOHAZARD! on it in both English and Spannish. In between barfs, he was weeping, "I want to go back in the truck!" while the othor scientist was screamin at him that this was NOT Mutuol of Omaha's Wild Kingdom where Marlin Perkins gets to sit in the truck while poor Jim Fowlor gets a bite taken out of his ass by the wild animol: They were all in this togethor.

The Fax comes thruogh

Yes it was spattored with somthing or othor--all 17 pages of it, but even still i coud read most of what it was. It turns out that Granfather found the list of potentiol sponsors for the cartoon project. Then, (the scientisist told me later), for the next 48 hours straihgt, Granfather then tried to find televison content that these advortisers also sponcored, and then typed up the most egriguois exampols of it on his clunkey old typewriter.

He did this in order to ilustrate to this web producor that NO ONE can point to us and cry "Controverciol Content" on the web when so called controvercil stuff is ALSO on TV.

"ITS LIKE THE POT CALLIN' THE BOWL BLACK!" Granfathor screamed into the CU See Me. (Sureley you are fammileir with the term, "the pot calling the kettol black". Well, in our home, the bowl is black.)

Again with the awfull voice

The poor web producor in New York held his head and tremboled as Granfather screamed at him ovor the Internet from Texas. Agian, i belabor the horror of the Voice of the Beast. Immagine if you will, one of those days when you dont have no fingernails because you cut them too short, and then slowly scratchin them on a chalkboard, while simultanuously chewing alunimum foil on your back teeth fillings while thinkin about a razor blade comin at your eye while eating a rancid slice of headcheese. THAT IS THE SENSATTION OF THE SOUND I SWARE TO GOD.

See a portion of the Objectonoble TV content that the bastord found and faxed us.