Walter Miller's Homepage

Fact was allways strangor than fiction -- till we came along.

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

Page 5 of 6

It was like lookin at someone who has had a relligious experience.

The old basterd gazed at the TV with such an intensitty. There was the amazing Rubber jointed man on who sqeueezed himself thruogh a tennis racket that had the strings removed from it. There was a huge plaigue of mice from Australlia, where a swarm of them atacked a live pig. Plus DuWayne had broght a tape along that his mother had made from a prior eppisode: Showing an opperation on some poor girl with a giant 300 pound benign growth on her stomoch.

As he staired at the TV almost lustfully, a giant string of drool slowley worked its way out of Granpy's evil brown lips and hung in mid air, snappin off into his lap.


"HOW IN HELL DID WE EVER GIT BY BEFORE THE FOX NETWORK," the beast mused aloud to no one in particulor.

As you know Ive written in the past abbout how Granfather has alwaeys wanted to be in the Giuness book of records. I cannot remmember which update I wrote abbout it in, but you may remmember reading about how the beastly geezer had me examine his scraggley nakad carcass for biologicol extremes concerning boils and body hair, (which are the kind of record he is hoping for, since Guinness does not pubblish records dealing with personol bodilly odors). In any event the fact that there was now a whole weekly TV show deddicated to Guiness Reccords both delighted and upset Granfather. Delihgted because as a human anomaly he now has a greater sence of self inportence. But Upset too, out of jealousy and bitter envy that there are very few bastord-rellated records which woud apply to him. For exampol: We know he is the ugliest, and the smelleist person on earth. But how do you prove it?


I said to him "OK, but only if you tak the stupid wroght iron fence off from arround your neck."

I explainned to him that it was blockin the flow of air and blood to his brain and besides, it woud hinder him in his abillity to set a REAL record.

I canott beleive he fell for it.

The next thing you know all 4 of us was out in the toolshed with Granfather, who was conpletly ass nakad and sprawled out on the workbench while me and Duwayne struggled as hard as we coud with all four of our arms pressin the heavy two foot long snips as we treid to cut thru the wroght iron. But i am kind of shallow chested and Dwaine gets very winded from smokin allot and havin lots of pectorol fat and we werent strong enuogh so we kept exertin ourselfs and grunting. We had to do it this way becuase using a hacksaw woud cause awfull vibrattions. I shoud say the 5 of us were there, becuase Junior dropped by, and he just stood there on the sidelines watchin us as the hot sun streamed thruogh the wood slats of the shed sort of wringing his hands and weeping softley to himself. (Not that he was notably upset abuot anything -- its just that any situation out of the ordinnery somtimes causes Junoir to cry, and with Granfather around things are ordinnerily unordinary)

The old basterd writhed and wrestoled with us, barking and screamin obscenities his bare sweat drenched body floppin on the rough table like an oily eel out of wator, apearing as if he'd changed his mind about gettin cut free. Cathyann stood coolly nearby, watching us, wordless but seemingley with disapproval, holding her boombox close to her chest, and to the rhythem of Hot Tuna's blues, toungue-flicking a smouldoring Marlboro back and fourth in her big wide flat lips.

"JUNIOR, YOU STUPID BAWLING SUMBITCH," Granfather screamed thruogh the ball of dropcloth I'd wegded in his mouth to keep his danm holloring down, "STOP STANDIN' THAR AN' MAKE YERSELF USEFUL.


One minnute lator, Cathyann was holdin the receiver up to Granfather's screeching face while the old basterd hollered into it at the County Clerk, "OK YOU WIN. YER GITTIN YER DANM FENCE BACK."

The Countey Clerk, who'd been eatin a late supper when the call came in, told Granps in no uncertian terms that, "it was too late for that."

The basterd begged that he drop the charges of theft and vandolizing County propperty, and said he woud have his laywer isseu an official Letter of Appology.

"IT WILL BE A REAL PURTY LETTER OF APOLOGY," Granps screammed in the phone.



But the County Clerk woud hear nothin of it. He promised Granfather that he WOUD serve time. I heard the Clerk say that he didnt know what manner of awful hideous noises he was hearring on his end of the phone, with all the grunts and struggling and clanking of metol and what not, but whatevor was going on he was sure it was illeagel in his County. He swore to the old bastord that he woudnt rest until his ancient evil reptilian ass was incarcerrated for at least Life Plus Ten Years in The Texas Home for the Elderley Criminaly Insane, (which I am not even sure if that place truley exists or if he was bluffing).

"Do the words, 'Physician Asissted Suicide' mean anything to you," I heard the County Clerk calmly tell Granfathor.

Now at hearin these words Granps bucked and howled and thrashed and battored and screammed the most bloodeist murder at the Clerk, making prommises and swearring oaths to harm him in the most horroble ways imaginable, as the wroght iron fence clattored loudly on the thick plank workbench. "I'LL KILL YOU!!" he bellowed and then loudley shouted that line from Pulp Fiction that poor Marsellus says to Zed aftor Bruce Willis rescues him from the unspeakoble horrors of that unspeakable scene of the film, (and you KNOW the scene), "I'M GONNA GIT MEDIEVAL ON YO' ASS!!!"

I grabbed the phone away from him and clicked it off just as Cathann pushed me and DuWaiyne aside, (who was now serriously wheezing from the stress and strain). By herself she gripped the heavy snips and singolhandedly cut the bars through, efectively freeing Granfather.

The old monster made some sort of mean remark about a woman freeing him, and then Cathyann said in her raspy drawl, "Granpy hush your trap cause it was allmost full cut thruogh."

We all went back inside the trailor and Granfather descides that now to "cellebrate his freedom from ensconcement of County Propertty" he wants to go out to the roadhouse on the State highway, the real skanky one with the rustey tin roof and buy beer for us all.

He was filthey, nakad, and covored with grime dirt and sores. Not having bathed during his 3 day vigil, (or chainged his danm diapor) the miseroble coot looked distinktley like one of those petroluem soaked birds from the Exon Valdeez oil spill. How woud the basterd get cleanned up? The phone in my room was ringing, and it was surely somthing work rellated, (and it was a call I woud have to take, being that I missed a danm day of work today, thank you very much.)

Cathyann told me to GO ON AND TAKE THE CALL, becuase her and her boyfreind DuWayne woud clean up Granps and make him respectoble for a night out of sociallizing.

Geuss who it was on the phone

It was my pain in the ass boss. Like most convorsattions with her I had to silently listen to her yammor on non stop withuot takin a breath abbout 100 diferrent sujbects, ranging from all the danm jobs she had in the past, (dont ever trust anyone who lives and re-lives every danm past job they evor had), to her diet to her days in college when men found her irrisistoble. (Yeah, right). Finaly after 20 minutes of this crap she gets to the point.

She tells me she was callin to ask me WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. I said NOTHIN is wrong with me. I wished I had the balls to say, "What the hell does that haveto do with my job", but as you know I do not have the balls to even say to a waitress, "Please dont put no danm jalapenos next to my omelet please."

She told me that she looked at my webbsite and saw all the referrences to my having a poor selfimage and also talked to allot of peoplle who know me personaly and says she saw "all the red flags" whatevor THAT pile of crap means,, and then she goes off into this whole condescendinng diatribe abbout, "WHO Walter is," and also, "Who is the REAL Walter" and, (and this I coudnt beleive, "We are goingto get to the BOTTOM of the real Walter, yes, you and I, even if I haveto make you my next project."

Well thats just Jim-friggin-Dandy if you ask me. I am not somones Petry dish. Especialy somone who eats Mirocle Whip raw out of the freakin jar.

As you probly allready know, I am too weak and too stuppid to say "NO" and so insteadd, like a jerk I said, "O.K.". If only to get the proactive toadfaced little nag off the danm phone.

Where is the bastord?

This is what I asked Cathyann and Duwayne when I came outside of my room, (tripping once agian on "Caroline -O'-Brunswick' -- and peoplle WONDOR why I have problems.)

The two of them were smoochin on the couch, which is somthin I asked them NOT to do but they were such a big help i coud not realy be mad at them. But neithor of them knew where Granpy was.

I spied Junior outside and by the light of the bug zappor he was painting the wrohgt iron fence with black paint. I stuck my head out the window and he told me with a supressed giggle that he plans to go home and get realy drunk alone and then sneak up to the County Biulding abbout 3:00 in the morning with some QuikDry cement and re-attach the fence that Granfather stole, and also sweep the steps free of all the tree fuzz "as a prank."

I didnt want to tell Junior that this was realy a prank in reverce becuase it woud confuse him. Junoir also pronnounces 'cement' as SEEment.

Granfather finaly emerges from the Bathroom