Walter Miller Homepage

Well, I'm sure we can resolve this in a mature way. Right, Mr. Poopypants?
-- Leslie Nielsen

The Second of two Updates for July 1998 (coming to you in mid August)

Page 2 of 6

For the first few hours of my being cornered, Granfather wailed and hollared and screamed, his nastey face inches from mine, his hourny clawlike toenails gripping the linolium floor as he pressed agianst the door opening, his entrence hindered by the width of the fence segment. Why the old basterd was too dumb to edge the fence in sidewayes, well I realy cant say. I am just glad he didnt.

Frightfull for my life I cowored and cringed, thinking only of two things: One, the fact that I had to pee, and two, a meagor hope that whoevor was unluckey enuogh to share a cell with Granfather while they served togethor on Death Row over in Huntzville after he killed me woud at least be somone whose ghastley crimes deserved it. As if that woud be possible, becuase you know it isnt.

After six hours went by, (based on the riddiculous things that he was screamming) I got the feeling that Granfather sort of forgot why he even came after me in the first place, but still he felt obligatted to remain blocking the door. Later that evening he fell asleap, his loud buzzsaw snores waking me up, as I too drifted off. I still had to tak a leak real bad. Yet everrytime I treid to squeaze past Granfather, the slumbering beast made these whuffly sounds like he was startin to wake up. There was a half full bottol of Windex in there and so I very carefuly peed in there and recapped it up. I tell you it was ten full ounces atleast i pissed out. I usualy can hold it like a camel and was sort of proud of myself that i kept it in so long. No, -- I did not spill a drop becuase this was somthin i learned to do as a kid when my creul granparrents used to refuse to pull the car over on the side of the road whenevor me and my brother (who used to stay with them during the Summer) went on a road trip and had to whizz in a pop bottol. And in this part of the countrey, every ride is a long road trip.

I was verry cramped in the linen closet and so i worked very quietley to remove the back wood panel which opened up a hole that led to the cubby that held the water softoner. It took me like 40 minutes to get thru this hole down into the crawlspace becuase I had certianly grown since I was nine years old, and besides, two years ago we put a speciel heavy sewage pipe in due to Granfather's habituol devastattion of most types of plumbing systoms thanks to the explosiveley toxic warhead rocketry of his poisonousley destructive ass. The man as you knoew is a living, breathing, gastrointestinol anamoly.

I wish I woud of known the danm exit pipe to the cesspool had a silent leak in it becuase as I exited the trailer floor I lost my footing and fell right onto the earth below into a small pool of noxious muck.

I sneak back inside

The air conditinning was blasting all night in the trailer and so the old geezer didnt hear the dogs start to howl outside when they saw me emerge from undorneath covored with crap. Granfather also didnt hear me sneak in the front door. I showored off and slept that night in my own bed.

The next mourning I awoke to Granfather's hideous screamms. I thoght, Oh Crap! He just discovored that i was gone!

I ran out in the hallway to see the old basterd still standing watch infront of the linen closet door, blocking it with the wrohgt iron fence arround his neck. He was hollering awful names at me like "WUSS!" and "DUMBASS SUMBITCH!".

It was so strange to see what Granfather looks like from the back while he screems at me. All the veins and prickley bones from his neck stick out. I can see all his muscles clentch. It is horroble. In some ways it is more scarier than havin him look right at you.

"YOU KNOWS I KIN WAIT YOU OUT!" he hollored. In the meantime I got dressed and tiptoad outside agian and drove off to work.

My stupud job

You will not bellieve what hapenned when I came in. There is a note on my chair from my pain in the ass boss, the pushy, nosy toad-faced little gnome of a womon, the one who eats the danm Miracle whip for lunch each day. The note says that we all have to meet in the conferrence room for an ALL DAY meeting begining at 9 AM.

Yes all day. No one seams to care that i have work to do.

The first thing I did was (of course) now run to the bathroom. It was 8:45 which was just enuogh time to commence a nice System Download and process the necesery cleanup and paperwork that comes imediatly aftorward. Just as I am readey to go inside the door, the pain in the ass boss sees me and starts trompin down the hall toword me as i pick up the pace to ecxape her, but our eyes meet and she says "Oh Walter HI!"

So then I say to her, "ECXUSE ME I WILL ONLY BE A MINUTE" while tryin to get inside the Mens room door and then she grabs my sleeve with her tiny toady hand and says, "LET ME TELL YOU ABBOUT THE ALL-DAY MEETING FIRST."

So I am standin there sqiurming and crossin my legs while she goes on and on about the friggin meeting. The thing I was so pissed abbout was that (i dont know about you) but crapping at work is allways a humilliating and somwhat gross experrience and therefore I allwayes like to be the first person of the day to come in contact with that particulor employee interface.

Theres nothin worse than a warm seat

Or for that mattor, any reminder that someon else had used it. You see they alwayes clean the bathrooms the night before. In the morning, the seats are up, and the porcelian bowls are sparkling fresh with this creamy green soapy stuff floatin on top of the water. Thats how you know you are the first one there in the day. It is sort of like in those anceint cultures who value virginity so much and a new girl moves into the village that no one slept with yet. Its not that shes especialy prety but its nice to know you are the first one there.

Along these lines neyone whose ever worked a job KNOWS that early in the AM is the best time in Corporate America to go.

But do you think I had the bennefit of going early today?

Hell no. Combover, the guy from Payroll, (whose name is not realy 'Combover' but evereyone calls him that behind his back for obvious reasons) stomps up to both of us talking while i am still half blocking the men's room door and rudely says, "Mind steppin aside?" You know he is goin in there to dump. And he is ecaxtly the person who's act you do NOT want to follow. Combovor does NOT paper the seat. Plus there are always allot of swirley bright colloured (dare I even say festive lookin) streaks and floaters decorating the sub aquatic area which I think is because of an offsite drinking habit which may include a large amount of (after the weekend atleast) of margaritas.

The Introdductory Agenda

My pain in the ass boss talked for the WHOLE 15 minnutes while the entire time I coud hear Combover in there grunting and splashing with resolution and glee. What she was tellin me was the 'Introductery Agenda' of this danm 7 hour class that we were all abbout to be forced to take in the conference room. She was literaly reading the thing to me off of this danm booklet, and then stopping at every point to explain it all. Meanwhile I am sqiurming like hell because she will not let me go. Did I mention her breth stinks.

At preciseley 9:00, Combover exits the restroom in a faint cloud of tainted air, nodded at my boss and sternley tapped his watch to indicate that the meeting is starting NOW. So my danm boss then began pullin me by my sleeve to drag me down the hall. I told her (a little louder than what is polite), "No, first I have to go!" and then went in the restroom.

I owe Stu for most of which follows