Walter Miller Homepage

Just like "The Truman Show" but with allot more bathroom cams

Suposed to be The Late June (but realy in July) 98 Update

Page 2 of 7

Yes, Cyberblop has just done a major housecleanning folowed by a general and very random re-combonation of survivers. I geuss their aproach to corporate management is much like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. You cant save the danm thing so you might as well do SOMTHING.

Meanwhile alls that hapens is just re-mixing up the same old peoplle into diferent co-worker teams so that everyone ends up in close contact with fresh people within the company who they dont happan to be pissed off at this week.

The happy lovefest lasts until these newley created teams all start tearin each othor's eyeballs out. That is when you allways know its time for a new re-org around here.

More abbout my problems at work in a bit. Also, I got to go away on the company dole ovor the last weekend. Yes Cyberblop paid for a bisiness trip to FLORIDA!! It was not as great as it sounds...

But first what is hapening with the basterd

...Yes, the old basterd.
...The man who puts the 'turd' in Bas-turd: GRANFATHER.

Granfather and the County Clerk hate each other and the fude has gone on for years. He considors the old gristley bastord his sworn arch enemy. Meanwhile, Granfather, (as an enemy of mankind in generol and having no single arch ennemy), in turn hates the Countey Clerk, but with no more hatred toword him than anyone else of the human race. And this includdes family members and also people hes never met before. Sick bastord.

Did you evor see how mean Jack Nickolson's charactor was in As Good As It Gets? The gratuitous creulty, the purpocely insulting remarks? Well on his worst day, when compared to Granfather on his best day, that Oscor-winning portrayal was kinder and gentler than the smallest one of the most sickenengly sweetest of those danm Teletubbies. Sick, sick creepy horroble old bastord. (Granfather, not Mr. Nicholson)

Channel 18, the local acess station had wanted to post a vigil out infront of the County Building to record the ramblings of the local freak with his head cohgt in the fence. The old beast's plan was to stay there ensconced until election day in Novembor. There was a sign arround his neck that said "FISCAL RESPONSIBILITY IN GOVERNMENT" and he was hoping to run in the election agianst the County Clerk, or at least pubblicly humiliate him.

This humilation of the Clerk woud of hapened if the newspaper had recorded that Granps had even had gottan one single vote. His actual Election Day plan was to get four write-in votes: Me, him, our family freind Junior, (the only man alive who actualy admires Granfather), and our othor family friend Cathyann, (but only if we got her really, realy drunk befforehand).

But things didnt work out that way.

Alls Granfather did was houmiliate himself and his family. Channel 18 did NOT take a politicol point of view of the whole thing as hoped, and instedd presented Granfather as some sort of caged savage monster. They also did not beleive Granpy's story that the County Clerk had his goons throw him out the front door, where the old bastord tumbled down the slate steps and pitched headlong into the fence where his apelike head got lodged.

In any case, if Granfather wanted to get his pound of flesh from the Clerk, he got it. The clerk was visibly angrey on TV discusing the matter, and looked like he aged 5 years in one week. And alas, Granfather's first run for politicol office was a resounding failure. Just as the Channel 18 van started packing up, (under direct orders from station management, becuase they were being inundated by dozons of phonecalls from grossed out viewers), the bastord hollared out to the them exactley like Antheny Hopkins in Nixon, "YOU WONT HAVE GRAMPY TO KICK AROUND ANYMORE...BECAUSE GENTLEMEN, THIS IS MY LAST PRESS CONFERENCE."

But by this time the cammeras were turned off and they werent even looking at him. Thank God barely no one even watches Chanel 18. In fact its realy a diferent channel and i wont publish what our real Locol Access station is.

As soon as they were gone, the Sheriff put up some orange cones in the street to divert traffic to the othor lane, and also put up one of those big white nylon curtains they use whenevor there is a scene of a grisly acident.

In this case, (as in so many), that "grizly aciddent" happans to be the one by which Granfather tragicaly survived birth on that day many years ago by slicing the animal-like razor sharp talons of his sqiurming hands and feet and slashing his crocadilian teeth and jaws thruogh the heavy goosedown pillow that the midwife held with all her strength ovor his devillish beastly face just moments after he was born there on the kitchon table of a rickety sharecropper shack. THAT grizzly acident. (So the local legend goes.)

Meanwhile behind the nylon curtian a few expert workmen were called to free him with a circulor saw. I poked my head in to see Granfather crouched in a half-kneel, half-squat on the level cement landing in front of the County Building front door and his gnarled ovorsized howler-monkey hands gripping the fence ballisters on eithor side of him like some ugly jailed gunman in an old Western. He didnt say nothin but the look on his glum frowning face said, "Drat! Foiled again!"

As the nylon curtien went up, the crowd dispersed. I moved closer, behind the curtin, and was only a few feet from Granfather, and sudenly the County Clerk grabbed my arm, (In a way that I thoght was a little too rough, becuase i did NOT do anything wrong), and he snarled at me that my family was goin to "pay for everything."

"I want you people out of my county" he hissed at me.

Then i started cryin which is not somthin i am proud of because i am too big to be so emmotionol. But there comes a time in your life when you cannot bear it. I said to the County clerk, I CANNOT HELP WHAT HE DOES, and also, HOW WOUD YOU LIKE TO BE RELLATED TO HIM.

Just as the curculor saw buzzed into the wrohgt iron fence with a metallic whine, Granfather began shouting in pain. The vibrations of the wheel were very painfull. They turned the saw off, and then descided that they were going to hafto use a blowtorch. But to use a blowtorch you had to get allot of ice to pack around the bastord's neck. The County Clerk said NO, they woud just go down a few counties over to the Ambulence Corps that had the Jaws Of Life to un-pry the monster.

Only problem is they were probly closed by this time. Granfather woud have to spend anothor night stuck in the fence.

"DON'T LEABE ME ALONE! PLEASE Y'ALL DON'T LEABE ME ALONE!" Granfather wailed. Yes, in the basterd's tiny evil mind, being unconfortably crouched by his friggin neck was quite bearable. Not being abel to heap growling threats and verbol abuse hour after hour onto his fellow man was intollerabble.

One of the sheriffs deputies was suposed to stand watch all night long in his patrole car, to guard Gramps. Just as I left to drive home I heard the sherriff say to the young deputy, "You be sho' to take a nice long dinner break, son. Why, even take several dinner breaks if you please."

Back home as i slept in the trailer

That night at 3 AM I heard the dogs whining outside and a loud pounding on the door. Junior had showed up, with tears in his eyes. He blubbored to me that he coudnt sleep and so went to visit Granfather at the County Biulding, which was right near his house. Junoir told me that the deputty was asleep in the squad car and so Granfather made Junior go get him some cigars to smoke. Granfather whispored to Junior that he shoud go to the trailer and get me, and to bring the big Sears screwdriver from the toolshed. Why the hell he wanted the big Sears screuwdriver was beyond me. Just as i was leaving the phone rang. It was Granfather's older half-brother, Uncle Zeke. As i mentioned a few updates back, Granfather's two brothors had come to Texas to visit. Since Zeke drives no faster than 33 miles an huor, it always takes him about a month to get back to where they live on the East coast.

Uncle Zeke was on I-40 just west of Nashville callin from a payphone outside of some service station restroom mad as hell becuase his 'Emergencey Roll' of toilet papper which he keeps in the trunk of his car wrapped in foil in the spare tire hole had been tampered with. Yes, tampored with by the bastord.

"Yer dumb-ass sumbitch Grandpap done put staples in muh 'emergency roll," he screammed at me. Zeke croaked out in his deliberate plodding way of stilted speech that he was an old man with not very good blood circullation to begin with, and that this combined with him sittin on his ass in the car for 4 or 5 hours a day driving caused him enuogh numbness so that he'd actualy put in 3 good wipes with the stapled paper beffore he even knew somthin was wrong.

How he does it

What Granps does, is pull out the old family Swingline(TM) when everyone's asleap, empty the stapples in the roll, and re-roll it up. He used to pull this trick on Zeke every 8 years or so, and as his brother's gotton older and more forgettful, Granfather is now abble to do it withuot any suspician almost every 3 and half years. Last time if fell on a Christmas Eve. Uncle Zeke is one of these people who travells around with his own toilat paper.

"Muh BEE-hind done feels like I jest shat out a grizzly ba'ar trap," my Uncle shoutad. I told him, Uncle zeke, I do not have TIME to talk abbout this with you. I felt bad but then i hung up.

Junoir drives me to town