If this is the 21st Century I want to go back
Page 8 of 50
Aftor a minute Dad got up and said it was just a graizing, despite the blood. Oh, God, there was an awful amount of blood.
Yes my father has ONE FAKE EYEBROUW. Many of my longtime readors already know this, and remember back in 1997 how he lost it when on a trip here in Texas he stood in Granfather's kitchen. You are wellcome to dig back into the archives of that year but in case you dont have time, I will encapsullate the story to say that Granfather, trapped for sevoral months in a fold out sofa bed by his jeallous girlfreind when she cought him fooling around in it with another woman, tossed a lit cigarete in the air which passed by his ass (his own ass) just at the moment he make a big fart which caused a shooting 20 foot long arching firey blaze that not only left a crusty sheen of baked-on-flux along the length of our kitchen cabinnets but burnt off pernamently one of Dad's eyebrows as he stood way off at the end of the flame.
Well anyway the eyebrouw was now missing. And since '97, allot's changed with medicol care in this country, what with the friggin HMOs which will NOT PAY FOR A REPLACEMENT.
Arrogent selfish HMO basterds.
We were out there a long long time looking but did not find Dad's eyebrow.
So, Junior walked to town with a gas can. It was a six mile walk. In a furthor example of Junior's lamebrainedness, before he got the the end of the property he came runnin back to the house with tears runnin down his face.
"I put the gas can down to scratch mah ass, but now with all the junk on Granpy's property, I caint find it!", he wailed. Yes, Granfather's propperty is allmost a sqaure mile jungle of trash, garbage and crap.
Instead Junior took a wheelbarrow, and rolled that to town. Which once he got there he filled to the brim with Unleaded Premuim and carefully pushed it down the state route back to our trailer being carefull all the while not to splash or spill any. All told it took him about fourteen hours to do this.
When the crust was removed from Granfather's eyes, they just staired ahead lifelessly. About this time, the overly-drammatic Dr. Blankenship, who is one of the othor Criptozoologists, arrived back from the University where Granfather is studied. As Madison carefuley worked, Blankenship set up his laptop, where he booted up this speciel software that projected theories on how to bring toxic fermenting dormant funguses (of which Granfather is one), back to life.
"I'm getting some brain activity," said Madison, "It must be be cause all these slow loading files resemble a byte-heavy high-bandwidth pornogrophy website."
Then Granfather actualy blinked.
"Aye!" Blankenship cried in his Highlandor brogue, "The wee-brained Beastie 'tis senscient. The Beastie lives!"
It was two a.m., and everyone was excited (well, mabye only Granfather), but some of us had to go to work the next day for Crying out Loud. I did not sleep well, partly cause of all the noise the Criptoes were making and also cause I was so worried that my life woud take a turn for the worse now that GRANFATHER WAS ALIVE AGIAN.