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Enjoy it now, before 01/01/00

The SECOND of Two Febuery 1999 Updates

Page 4 of 5

A Repreive from disgousting Sausage.

Then a minite later the Waitron apeared to tell us that they were all out of the lamb sausege and so I qiuckly ordered the pot roast.

Then our salads came. The leaves were stringy and mostley purple. There was curry powder on it, and tangerine slices and tiny mostly unfrozen-frozon shrimp. It was so extremly disgousting. The dining room was dark and there were allot of potted palms and burgundey colored curtians and plastic urns and tired old lookin white wicker that had a film of greaze on it. It looked like a place where they took vintege pournography pictures 100 years ago.

"This place sucks," my brothor said.

Right then this creepy, very scary Christophor Lloyd lookin-guy snuck up on us scairin the hell out of Junior and he was holding one of those giagantic pepper shakers the size of a cigar store Indien. Theres somthin very phoney and anoying about those danm giant peppor shakers.

"Fresh ground pepper?" he asked. My brothor said to him how woud you like that thing up your Waitronly ass. The guy's jaw droped but my brothor said he was only kidding. But I know my brothor when he is pissed and he wasnt kiding.

Then the dinner entrees came. The danm waiter tells me, "Oh geuss what, we were NOT out of the preservattive-free-lamb sausage after all."

And then he plops down this horobble lookin thing in front of me.

Alone: And withuot garnish of any kind

Junoir and my brother got full dinners with pretty mounds of potatos and vegtables on there dish but mine was alla carte and so there was nothin else on the giant empty plate exept this long, slightley curved brown thing just laying there. Looking like it had been casualy plopped in at a distence of roughley a foot or two above. It stretched across half of the dish, somwhat off centor, curving arround mostly at the edge, looping slightley in an arc shape, tapering a tad, and ending at one end curled into a curly Q.

The dish was white porcellain. In fact the dish looked exactley like an old fashoined friggin white porcelian hospitol bed pan. And my supper looked EXACLTY like YOU KNOW WHAT. (And not just because I have a dirty mind eathor, becuase you know where suagage comes from.)

It sat there for abbout 20 minutes while Junior and my brother ate their supper.

I didnt touch it. It was alone.

Alone: And withuot garnish of any kind.

My brother started gettin harsh with me.

"Eat it!", he said and poked me in the side. I said it is too disgousting to eat. But my brothor said that he didnt want to spend more time as neceserry in the danm restoront.

Slowly I started to pick at it. It came apart much as I ecxpected it woud. The texture, consistency, all of that i will not explian but you get the idea.

The thing with my stupid disfunctionol family is that if I did not start eatin it my brother woud of started a scene. It woudnt of been as bad as a Granfather scene but still a scene. I am more of a folowwer than a leader plus i alwayes shy away from confrontattion and so I did as he told me. Also I have a tough time standing

Fortunatly I am able to close off my nose so I dont smell nothin. Finaly I cut it in peices and swallowed each peice with water like they were pills.

Juniour's meal was kind of awful looking too. He got the "Calf's Liver." My brothor took a look at it and said it looked more like "Yeltsin's Liver."

Of course my brother ordored the T-bone steak and that looked pretty normol plus he said it didnt taste too bad. He alwayes lucks out. On the way out my brothor threw a few mints into the clamshell fountian that the peeing statue I wrote abbout earlier was peeing into, and they made a fizzing sound. Then he broke off the cristally green hard water growth off its winkie and tossed it playfulley at Junior who recoiled in fear as it bounced off his chest.

"Thet thar statue's peed his germs on that!," Junior trembled.

Not unlike Granfather, my brothor has a sick sence of humor which sontimes borders on the mallicious.

My brothor was increasingley happy as the evening wore on, because he knew that he was leaving, and that me and Junour had to stay in Texas with the basterd. By the time we got to the airline terminal to drop him off, he was delerriously thrilled like a schoolgirl in love. Yes, Granfather has that affect on peoplle.

The whole ride back Junoir was very upset becuase my brother had been telling him that calfs liver is now very expennsive and in all liklyhood the restuarant bought used livers from the hospital and what he really ate was probly from either Larry Hagman or David Crosby. I had to asure him that this was not true. When I dropped Junoir off home he was blubboring in tears.

Once we got back to the trailor it was very late.

Granfather's girlfreind, the verritable female version of H. Ross perrot was there. I saw her pink Caddy in the frontyard. When we walked in, I coud hear her yappin little voice but it was strangeley muted. Also her normaly troll-like facial features were somwhat distorted out of propportion. I blinked my eyes and then I saw what was wrong: there was one of those cheap $9 Pyrex cofee pots stuck on her head. The top of it (which now was arround her neck) was orange plastic denotting the internattional color of de-caf. I reckongized it as one that Granfather swiped out of spite from the Mini Mart last year after gettin into an altercation with the registor clerk.

"ME AN' MUH LADY FREIND HAD A FEW WORDS AND I DONE CROWNED HER WITH A CARAFE," and the way Granfather, (the lowclass bumpkin that he is) prounnounces "carafe" is 'KAY raff.'

Granfather's girlfriend, the little weasely banshee staired at me angrilly thruogh the heatproof glass.


Yes, there was anothor fight going on. Yes, it was Clinton-rellated. Once agian Granfather was standing up for his hero, while his microcephallous consort kept tearing down both the politics and charractor of the fat, flusch-faced man from Arkansaw.

What this fight was about