Walter Miller's Homepage

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

Page 6 of 6
My evil ancestor then exited the bathruom door totaly washed, (well, clean for him, but the legal deffinnition of 'Disorderly Vagrant' in 45 states). He was wearin a fresh diaper, his polyestor rhinestone stiched pollyester Western shirt, his coprolite bolo tie and his bristley boar like hair was combed neatley and parted in the middol with model airplane glue.

"LEMONY!" he excliamed, speakin ovbiously of the scent of the modelling glue.


There was also somthin weird abbout him -- he looked puffy, bloated even. He looked like the poor exterminnator in Men In Black aftor the giant roach alein sqeezed himself into his body. I didnt know what was up with Granfather, or for that mattor what was INSIDE him. In fact I didnt want to know.

He'd been squatting so long while fencebound that he asked we bring his wheelchair allong in the car. Plus, he had some sores on his neck which were irrisitable for him to lick and bite, and so me and Cathyann fitted him with a new cardboard coller, like the old basterd wore for most of last year. You have seen these collers beffore, they are called cone or bucket collors, and are used mainly for dogs and cats when they return from the vet. We atcualy has his old Cristmas coller still in the broom closet. Alls it needed was new staples and tape.

On the way over to the Roadhouse beer joint with the five of us packed into the car, Granfather woudnt stop talkin all excitedley abbout "the new Giuness Record show".


"GOOD THING THEY HAD A TETANUS SHOT FIRST," he cackled sarcausticaly.


Granfather woud NOT stop yappin on how his record woud be the best. It was still a secret, and so he coudnt share it, but his reccord woud be "HUGE" as they say in the web content industrey. I coud not get ecxited cause Ive been kind of depresed lately. And I just dont know why.

Inside the bar, it was loud and smoky. Cathyann was wearin a bareback tube top (yuck) revealling her shouldors and arms, which were gettin very sweatty from dancin up a storm in the roadhouse, which never had good aircondittioning to begin with. She has this weird habbit that she picked up from her mothor, and that is to sprey herself down with various bottols of stuff she carries arround in her bag when she is hot and sweaty, and also to repel mosqiutos. You know, stuff like Skin-So-Soft, but also mild cleansors like non-soapy Windex, which are nice and cool for a heatwave because they contain ammonnia and alchohol. She kept runnin back to our table, to sprits herself with a bottle of it. I always thoght Windex was blue and not green, and so I asked her abbout it.

"Must be Forest Scent," she shrugged, huffin and puffin from dancin and sweattin so hard; "Hell, Walt, I found it in your linen closet."

It was then I reallized that this was the bottol I releived myself in a day before. I treid very hard not to puke.

Meanwhile, Granfather, having been restrained for a few weeks was like a kid in a candey store. He chaised after women allover the roadhouse, saying rude things like, "WHOA! NICE TURDCUTTER!" and also, "THET THAR IS MAKIN MUH DANGLY BITS ALL TINGLY." And also, "BABY, YOURE COOLER THAN EUCALYPT-O-MINT" which probly made me more embarased for the old bastord than Ive ever been beffore in my life. This is gross, but in case your wondorring, a 'turdcutter' in Granfatherese is a crude name for a womon's butt.

Cathyann and Duwayne went off to smooch in a corner while Granps found someone who looked barely female and hueman to dance the Two Step with. It was a real Billy Ray Cyrus type of Addams Family crowd in here tonnight...I sat there all alone feelin very dejected and deppresed lookin down into my Tonic Water with sugar in it which is one of the few things my weak stomoch can take lately. ....Oh, my Gawd...It coudnt be...


If you have been any kindof loyal reader of Walter Miller's Home Page then you know of my One True Love. Yes the womon who Ive been pining for for a few years now. The one who everytime the song "Mrs. Brown Youve Got A Lovely Duaghter" comes on the oldies station, aneyone who knows me personaly has to make some dumb remark to me. Yes, it was my old counselor who I used to be in therappy with. Not the one I am in therappy with now, but the one who 2 years ago had to stop councilling me because I developed a big crush on which turned into True Love. She is 14 years oldor than me but I do not care abbout the age differrence. She was sittin there at a table all alone smoking. I didnt evon know she smoked but I did not care. I allways swore I woud never kiss a womon who smoked anymore, but her, well, even if smoke was danm pourring out of it, I woud kiss her right directley on her...Never mind.

Well as shy as i am you woud think I woud run off in the oposite direction but to tell the truth i am so mutch more needy than shy, and so much more in love than brave, and so I just bolted up and stumboled off toword her. She was sittin alone in a booth. I gave her a giant hug and I had a few tears in my eyes but they were half out of saddness and half outof being happey to see her. Yes I am so immature. But admiting it is the first step on the road to matturrity.

We talked for like 30 minnutes. She woud not let me buy her a drink beccuase that woud look too much like it was a date and she did not want to lead me on. I treid not to blubber and slobbor too much. It was a very nice convorsattion. She was here with her sister (who is married) but the sisters husbend was not there. She is no longer a counsellor anymore. She said she felt she had been a lousey counselor and that now, in her mid thirteis had descided to be a teacher and was going to school for it. I told her she was the WORLDS BEST COUNSLOR and also the prettiest one, (stupid, stupid, SO stuppid of me to say that), and she smiled and rolled her eyes but I coud tell she was tryin not to smile as to lead me on. I canot tell you how beuttiful she is. She is the most beutofiul woman in the world, I sware to God. I asked her if I was the reason why she stopped bein a counsellor, you know, being that I am such a failure for whom counselling has done me no good and she said IT DOES NOT MATTOR WALTER.

Her eyes just sparkol, even in a crappy place like the roadhouse. I asked how her fiance was. She told me she was living with a guy and they were engaged but they broke it off. (The guy is an iddiot. I met him once). Then because I did not know when I woud see her agian, I also told her that I love her SO MUCH. I dont know why you allways hear about and read abbout men who cannot tell a womon I LOVE YOU, and to be honest, I cant undorstand it. It is very easy for me to say. I told her that mabye when I am, like 30 years old and she is in her mid fourties if no one marreid her yet I woud wait for her.

She said PLEASE DONT SAY THAT becuase I woud soon forget about her. I said, NO I WOUD WAIT.

Oh crap now the watorworks

I started cryin. I have to tell you that I mention many times in my hompage abbout how I start to cry allot. This is hard for me to addmit, but somtimes I write about how I cry just for the self sattisfaction that I know there are people out there who will feel sorry for me. Yes, I admitt that I cry for pity. But all the pitty in the world was not worth it becuase these tears this time were truley bitter ones of reallization that she does not want me. Also I felt so teribble that it was beccuase of her failures with counseling me that caused her to stop being a councillor. She said that was only one part of it, becuase the othor part was that the money sucked. Then I told her agian that I loved her SO MUCH and now she started cryin. I never saw her cry beffore. Then She appollogized and said she was ashamed for cryin and it was probly cause she had too much beer which was somthin she was also ashammed of. She has such long, beutifful hair. I said that mabye we coud go outside and take a walk and mabye there was a blankat in the car and we coud sit under the stars in the field behhind the roadhouse parkin lot and talk and cry and hold each othor and I prommised, I swore, that I woud not make a move on her but she probly figgured that I woud, (and the truth is, I probly woud have: You see, she knew that: This proves that she is still a good counsellor). I said she knows me so well, and that bein married to me woud posibly not be the worst thing in the world. Like I said this time I was cryin but it was not for pitty becuase it realy hurt. My eyes were very red and I held my eyes so no one woud see. She got up to leave and said she had to go and I was hoping that the meanning of that was that she had to pee, and woud come back. But she did not. I opened my eyes five minnutes later to see sitting across the booth from me: Granfather.

He was scowling. There was not onley a giant frown on his face but a huge black eye. He raised a bottol of somthin to his ghastley slimy lips and drank it down hard.

"HMMPHH!" he gruffed with a snort of disdain, "IF ONLY ZIMA WERE THIS GOOD.

It was Cathyann's bottol of Windex. I was to sad to even be grossed out. Me and the old monster glaired wordlessly at one anothor for a long, long time. His frown was serrious and dour. Finaly the old basterd spoke.

"BOY," he said to me, "WIPE THEM TEARS. YOU'RE IN A BAD WAY."


The old basterd started givin me a lecture on the opossite sex. I treid to tune out his dumbass pontiffications but it was not easy. After ten full minnutes it sudenly dawned on me that it wasnt my counselor but Cathayann he was talkin about. He pointed his grisly fingor across the room at her and DuWayne slowdancing, lumberring along togethor like the Titanic and the iceburg.



I took a good look at Granfather, and while I apreciated his concern, I wondored abbout the black eye he had. Also it looked like both halfs of a jagged brokon Budweisor longneck beer bottol was lodged into his pineappol husklike scalp. There was only a tiny bit of blood, considdering how deep they were in there.

Granfather pateintly explianed to me that one of his "sure fire pick-up lines" backfired on him. The line was spokon to a womon he'd never met beffore. Somthin along the lines of, "Hey baby, how's about lettin me place the 'Presidential Seal' on thet thar cocktail dress o'youres, cause you never know when ole Ken Star's gonna slap us with a subpeeny."

Granfather told me that her responce was a few whacks with the bottols and a reqeust that he leave her alone and go home.



I will end this update here. In case you are wondorring, Granfather swaollowed somthing, in his attempt to set a new Giuness Record -- a record I am sure does not exist, but yet is somhow perfectly tailored for the Fox program's format. I will write abbout it in my next update. Hopfully as summer winds to an end I will soon be on a normal updatte schedule and you wont have to wait so long.

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