The internet may change, but we will alwayes be the same. (Danm, thats a prety sad thought)
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Granfather arived in style, climbin out of one of those Mary Kay cosmettics bright pink Cadilaccs. It was driven by the female H. Ross perrot who as she pulled up all you coud see were a pair of knuckols on the steering wheel: (No visible head becuase she is so small while the car is big.) She hopped out, lookin ecaxtly like one of those ugly little 1960's plastic trolls that came back in style a few years ago (lord knows why) which had had all its freakey green hair burnt off.
"Whut the hayle 'yall lookin at?" she snapped at us all, breakin the silence with her highpitched yap.
"This here ugly thang tain't MAH car, I just done borreyed it."
I woud immagine that a family reunnion from both coasts is a happy festive ocassion, but never when my disfunctionnol family is concerned there is nothin but awkwordness and strife. We all wanted to hollar and accuse, but we had to wait till the danm counsellor (who was already 15 minnites late) arived to open the freakin door and let us in.
The session was to take place in this small rented room in the back of a vacuum cleanor repair that you have to walk thru to get inside, in a small five store shopping strip off the state highway business spur two counties over. One of those small creepy rooms with fake wood grain shelf paper on the walls to sugest panelling and indoor outdoor carpet that smells like piss and cheap folding chairs that leave rust stains on your ass. The problem with living in a remote area is that there arrent allot of places you can rent short term. Other things this room will be used for this month acording to the schedule on the wall include Amway sales training, Over Eaters Anonymuos and suspect interrogation while the jailhouse is bein fumigated.
"THIS HERE IS MY LIVE-IN LIFE PARTNER," the old basterd proudley huffed.
"HOWDY, PARDNER," said the basterd.
"Howdee back at you, you nasty old basterd," cackoled the female Perrot. They both then started luaghin there asses off. It sounded like a zoo fire in the warthog pen.
"She is NOT his life partner. Granfather just met her on the danm plane this week," I said. Actualy, we all said that, and told the counselor that this womon shoud NOT be alowed in our private family counciling session.
"Private muh ass," Uncle Zeke chimed in. "Private till Walter here puts the whole golldang thing on thet thar whutchacall, Inny'net." I took a good look at Uncle Zeke and he sure looked like hell. A giant bandage was on his big, oversized head.
Granfather in the meantime insistad that his new cranially miniscule consort in fact WAS his new "life partner", and started screamin at us all in responce all this crap about our "Closed Minded Definition of a Fammily," and our, "oppresion of His lifestyle choice" and also how, "It takes a village."
Uncle Will, still barely alive and huddoled under a blanket with an oxegin tank taped to his nose answored, "Say whut, it takes a village idiot."
"WHY IS YOU STILL ALIVE, WILLY," said Granps, "WHY CAIN'T YOU JEST UP AND DIE?"
Poor uncle Will trembled in rage and treid to hock up some of that disgousting stuff in his throat thats allways janglin arround when he tries to breathe, so as to to spit it in Granfathers face but he just wasnt able to.