Walter Miller's Home Page

-- Granfather, (c. 1984) at my folks house, after eatting a whole tray of those fancy little round soaps

My Mid-Octobor Update First on Geociteis Update

Page 3 of 5

A limitless high Protien, High Fat Diet

Mutch to my chaggrin the doctor told us to make sure that Granfather gets as mutch protein as he wants and also he coud use some fatty foods like meats nuts and cheeses. This explains why he was lapping at pools of oil at the auto shop.

The doctor said a normal male adult shoud have abbout 14% of his body mass as fat, while an especialy ectomourphous one (like Patient X here), might have as little as 11%. But the old bastord we call GRANPY seemed to hover around 2% which is highly non-human to begin with, but not only that, aftor his sofa acident seemed to be down to an astounding .03% of fat for his body mass (and most of THAT was in the form of disgousting hair and eppidermal secretions, and ear wax).

Granfather visibbly beamed with the news of his new diet and also when i told him we woud stop at the package store on the way home.

The doctor said YES, and instructed me to give the old creature as danm many as he wants. i had takken him OFF eggs cause the SMELL aftorward. Up till last year he was having 12 eggs a day. I know, its disgousting.

Granfather is the only person in human medicol history to have a body mass percentage of fat atcually dip lower than his blood alchohol level.

This is gross

All of a sudden right as i wheeled him thruogh the lobby as he clutched a few stolon bottols of Cepacol in his gnarled talon like claws i looked down to see his face mass over in a sea of teeming black. I shrieked and started getting very upset and tremboled. It was that scary. I called out to the doctor who was heading down the coridor, HELP!

The doctor threw his hands up in despaire and ran over to us. When he came close, he seemed relieved at what he saw, then sudenly wheeled on his heels, and abrutply headed in the oposite direction.

Meet the Beetles

No im not talkin about John, Paul, George and Ringo. (or in granfathers case, Ringworm). Instead, Granfather apeared, on first glance, acording to the doctor, to have infestation of Texas Powder Post beetles. They swarmed out of his ear and later we found out theyd took up residence in the mastoid, a small honeycomb shaped boney area infront of the ear. I pleadded with the doctor to help but as i mentionned many times before the docter hates Granfathers guts.

"Confound it! I'm a DOCTOR, not an entyommologist," he snarled in a perfect Dr. McCoy voice from Star Trek as he scurried down the hall. And then he said to me over his shouldar to get the old bastord OUT OF THE HOSPITOL NOW or else hell call the friggin Board of Health.

When i composed myself i looked down to see Granfather sweeping his sticky amphibbious tadpole of a tounge upword across his face to slurp up the swarm of little dark buggy nodules into his rappidly chewing eager mouth.

"THEM'S HERE'S PROTEIN, AIN'T THEY, BOY?" Granfather hollored at me thruogh a lip smacking crunch and a watery look of concern. "HERE'S A DOLLAR: GO GIT ME A TROPICANA TWISTER OUT O'THET THERE VENDING MACHINE SO'S TO WARSH THESE HERE CRITTERS DOWN WITH."

Unfortunatly this was nothin new.

Once beffore Granfather had these odd quartor inch holes in his ankles and knee joints, and one in his jaw that went abbout an inch deep. They were near perfect and looked machene drilled. We didnt know what they hell they were. Finaly we figoured out he had carpenter bees nesting in the woody fibruous cellulose composition of his bone. (Yes granfather is posibly part plant. Not all thats green on him is mold, some of it is clorophyll.)

Well this time (as last time) he wasnt so bad off that a giant can of Raid didnt fix things fast. I soaked him in the parking lot and i saw no more beetles that day.

We came back from the store with allot of groceries and also a can of Redi Whip that the manager made me buy becuase Granfather snatched it off the shelf as I wheeled him down the aisle, and to the great revvulsion of onlookers he dischardged a few loud fluffey volleys of it into his nose and moulth while chanting:

When i told him to stop it rihgt now all he did was made his demonic apeing grin. "HEY BOY," he shoutad at me. "I'M DOIN' WHIPPETS!"

The most exciting thing we boght for the old bastord was a giant stinky salami that was 3 feet long. He insisted on eatin it in the car on the way home. He started up with the spicy burps almost imediately. The danm salamy cost sixteen bucks but Granfather insisted on starting on it right away. One belch was so loud it caused the glove compartment to pop open by itself while i was driving and the small bulb in there popped loudly. I wont tell you how bad it smelled. I said to him 'Granfather i hope your enjoyin that Salami," and he grumbled bittorly to me, "GO HEAD AND RUB IT IN, BOY, WHEN YOU KNOW DANM WELL EVERYTHING I EAT'S GONNA TASTE LIKE RAID FER THE NEXT FEW DAYS."

A Tornado warning!

Just when we got home i heard on the radio a tornadoe warning!! I hustled Granfather and myself into the storm cellar. Granfather started shrieking "MUH PETS! MUH DANM PETS! MUH PORE LEGALLY PROTECTED SCRAGGLY-ASS ANIMAL COMPANIONS!"

He actualy wanted ME to stay outside and not get in the shelter with him!! Thats how mean he is. I finaly said that this was a lifeboat situatoin and only a few pets coud come in because all 13 dogs and the 2 goats and the 40 odd chickons coud not all fit in there. As usual, Granfather chose quickley: His favvorite dogs, Janet, Nemo and Drive By were alowwed in. So were the 2 fluffiest chickens, Miss Misissipi and Miss Hawaii.

And, Of course, the Goats

Granfather cruelly gruffed at me that he woud prefer MY spot in the storm celler go to Wilson the dog and atleast 2 more chickens; Yes, on 4 diferent ocasions when my dad was a kid, his evil parents bumped him from the shelter during a tornado for the sake of a stupid old calf, and once even for a hog.

But about those goats: THEY NOW HAVE NAMES.

First i woud like to say MANY THANKS to all those who sent me e-mail to sugest names for our two new goats, which i wrote in my last update that we just picked up. I got allot of responces. I descided on the name of "Pansy II" for the first goat and the name "Vice President of Brand Developmant Halla Mackowska" for the second goat. As you know, their prior owners tried to do this awful illegal thing to them, by moving their horn buds soon after birth to the center of their forehead as to pass them off as phoney unicorns in the circus. It never grew right so the goats have this knobby helmety mass of flattenned horn material on their heads. For that reasen, I was thinking of Klingon names, becuase they looked like Klingons. Originaly, one of the poor creatures was going to be called "Gowran" and the other (with a lazy eye) was goingto be "Generol Martock" (from Deepspace 9).

But instead I gave them othor names. The name of the first goat, Pansy II was based on that other goat from when I was a kid, Pansy who i loved so much. (Also she has the same lazy eye). The name of the second goat was sort of heavy handedly pushed on me by the Netly News management. (This is what i was talking abbout earliar in this update when i said "creattive concessions.") One of my superiors told me in so many words that I MUST name the goat aftor this higher up, if I wanted to keep my job. Othorwise i will be out of there on my ass. I did NOT want to name the goat Vice President of Brand Developmant Halla Mackowska, but i am forced to do so. Also Im not allowwed to complain abbout it. So there you have it.

We survive the tornaddo