Walter Miller's Homepage

Its funny but not much else.

May update 1999 (yes i know its July)

Page 4 of 8

About the Topsoil Incodent

When I was a little kid they put a new lawn on the courthouse and the old basterd stood up in a municipol meeting and offorred to donate some nice fresh topsoil he had in the back of his truck to save the County $200.

The state inspector went outside to the old basterd's truck and ran his hand thruogh the soil and it was nice and fresh and crumbly and didnt even smell like nothin and so the County Clerk signed off on it and the next day they spred it out. And dont you know it, but you can mix fresh sludge thats dryed out from the sewor system and it is also fresh and smells OK.

What Granfather had did

Well we dont have no sewers in our county but Granfather, the evil plotting basterd he is, actualy climbed into the sewors somewhere else in a housing developmint that did, and with a shovel colected the slugde. Which normally makes exellint topsoil exept for the all the danm tommato seeds.

Granfather had boght a few bags of topsoil at the hardware store and mixed the sewor slugde in. The next spring there was frikin tomatoes growing everewhere and it cost a coupol of thosand dollers to dig them all out and put the lawn in again.

The locol newspapper and Cable Access show blamed the County Clerk for the whole thing, and then they had a hearing at the courthouse where Granfather swore in tears that he knew nothin abbout tomatoes. This was a lie of cource: Tomatoe seeds are one of the few things that survive in human feces. And if there is such a thing as an expert in the sujbect of fecal anomolies it is GRANFATHER

Also during the hearing at the court house he kept makin these awful horoble farts and after each one apologgised and said "PLEASE, I CAIN'T HEPP MAH GAS, I AM OLD!"

But evereyone in town knows he does it on purpoce. When he is on a roll he can snap them out everey 4 or 5 seconds for an hour straite. Leading up to each discharge he bites his lip and shuddors and you all know its coming so people start covoring there faces. It is an old courthouse, from the 1930's and has these smooth vaulted ceilings on the lobbey with gigantic old landmark status WPA paintings on them of burly Art Deco men working in farms and factoreis and he made one fart that wasnt exactley the loudest one he made that day but it stunk so danm bad the whole danm mural shrunk up beffore your eyes and fluttored to the ground below in tiny chips. This is how Granfather acts in public so imaginne how cruel and disgutsing he is at home.

Then on the ride home from the hearing Granps told me and my brothor that he also mixed the sludge in on purpoce. Later the old basterd took a $200 tax deduction for donating the topsoil. This is typicol Granfather for you.

I know in the above parragraphs I mentioned an odor that came from Granfather, and this is somthing I promised not to do. Howevor, this incodent ocurred in the 1980s and is not slandor: It is a mattor of public record. Also tomatoe plants kept croppin up all in weird places around town for allmost ten years aftorword.

After I left the filling station where I was hollered at by the County Clerk, I drove up the trailor to hear more screams and yelling. There was a pink Mary Kay cosmetics cadillac outside the front which told me that Granfather's girlfreind was there havin a fight with him.

A huge lover's Quorrol with the femaile version of Perot

Granfather for the past few months had been dating this strange little womon. I sware it, the womon was the female equivalent of two time Reform party candidate H. Ross Perot. Not just any old tiny headed, bat-eared twang-voiced just-sucked-on-a-lemon-faced woman who hapenned to look like Perot, but the true biologocol female version of her.

The Celestial Muffin Tray Theology

Granfather is a sick twisted old man with an equaly sick system of religious beleifs, which I have explained before in this website. Granfather believes in the idea that for everey man created, there is a female version of that same person and vice verca. There is also a male and female version of that same person in each of the major racial gruops.

In othor words, the old basterd bellieves that when God creates a persen like you or me, there is a muffin tray up in heavon where a total of 8 "counterparts" of that persen are simultaneousley created in all, and each of these are distributed to different sets of parents thruoghout the world.

It is a sick demmented theory, I know.

Howevor, the more I dwell on it the more crazily true it seems. I do know for a fact that right here in our county is a man who works for the highway departmant who is the male version of the actress who played Jerry Sinefeld's mother on his TV show. Other variations in our county include counterparts of broadway and motion picture acter Nathan Lane and Secretery of State Madeline Allbright. Her male version once did the old turn-your-head-and-cough thing to me down at the HMO.

Sureley in your town or village you have seen "counterparts" of fammous people yourself, and many of my readors around the world have written to me to confirm this.

OK well in any event Granps and the little X-Chromosomol Ross Peroe were goin at it shreikin and hollerin and throwing Fiestaware at one anothor and aiming for the eyes too.

What the fight was about

There were two reasens why the deranged little imp was fighting with Granfather. The main reasen was because she was jeallous that Granfather had agreed to have himself disengaged from the giant grout plug from up a certian part of his body only under the promise of being able to cheat on him -- remmember in my last update I wrote how the sheriff develloped a scam by which Gramps was promissed a free romp with an ugly blondhaired womon prisonor in black pleather jackboots who realy turned out to be male actor. 'Pleathor' as you know is a typeof fake plastic leathor. It is populor on some women in certian parts of Texas.

"Whut the hayle you mean by cheatin on me Grampy?" the femaile version (but not the true) Ross Perot yapped.

"NO ONE CHEATED ON YOU, YUH DUMBASS REE-FORM PARTY RE-TREAD!", granfather hollered back screamin at the top of his lungs with a cigarrete cletched tight i his teeth.

"But you danm well woud of!,"


"I seen thet purty blonde gal in them pleather jackboots!"


And so it went with the two of them holorring. This kind of stuff realy gets me on edge because Granfather had just been suforring with a grout problom and he was weak. I began to get real nervuous. When he screamed like this these awfull veinlike things pop out all ovor his head and he turns angrey and purple. This is disgousting, but giant yellow lesions and custardy boils erupt all ovor the repulsive sonofobbich. Part of my nervuousness was out of concern for my grisly ancestor and the othor part was the one of the friggin things was goin to pop in my face.

What the othor reason was why Granfather's girlfreind was mad

I had said there was 2 reasens she was mad. The second one was this: The female version of Perot invented, and claimms to hold the rights to the the speciel Air Pressure Enema that Granfather's brothors used to try to kill the old basterd. Exept you are only suposed to put air in there, NOT tile cement. And so the thing that came out of Grampy, when it was all disengaged and sittin there on the greasy floor of the auto repair garage was quite interresting indeed.

Not just Devil's Tower, but a Towor from inside a devil.

Do you remember the big reppresentation of Devils Tower Mountain that Richerd Dreyfuss built out of mud in the basement of his house in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

Imagine somthing like that -- Exept being flat on the top there was a wiggley looping plastor cast of the inside of the intestinal tract of an unexplained bipedal carniverous creature. Also there was a very nice circulor base on the bottom, from the lowermost part of it taking the shape of the inside of a 55-gallen drum. It woud look pretey nice as a modern sculpture, dont you think?

Well one guy in England thoght so and he boght the danm thing for $680 plus shipping over eBay where the old basterd put the thing up for sale. The stupid English will buy anything.

"I own the rights to thet thar sculpture, you old ornery basterd!" the little female version of Perot yapped.

Granfather holered back, "KISS ME WHAR THET THANG PLOPPED OUT."

Then, as happened so many times with these two when they foght, the argumint got political.