You know, things realy dont smell all that bad arround here since that fire.
Page 6 of 6
"I calls it the Paint Bomb(R)", twanged the shrunkan headed bat eared little ogre.
"No more scraipin'. No more preppin'. No more warshin brushes.
"Jest set thet ole bad boy thang in the center o'the room, an' set her off."
I was not interrested in hearin abbout the Paint Bomb, (or the cement bomb(R), which her and Granfather pronnounced, "SEE- -ment" bomb....and I was even LESS intrested in coughin up a $2,000 dollor investment as seed money.
"SHUT UP AN' LISSEN TO ME Y'ALL!," Granfather screamed at the top of his lungs with a cigaret cletched tightley in his Ice Man-brown teeth.
"IT DONE WORKS ON THE SAME PRINCIPAL AS THE FLEA BOMB. NOW PONY UP THET SEED MONEY NOW YOU DANGFOOLS!"
Evereyone just staired dumbstruck in disbelleif. Yes, Granfather sureley knew the principol behind flea bombs, since many a time on doctor's orders he's shared a tightley closed Hefty bag with one. But he was so addament for us to give investment money to this womin thant I knew that coudnt be a good sign. Being how normaly cheap the old basterd is.
Finaly Uncle Zeke rose to his feet, his knees wobboling, and pulled himself up to his full stooping height which was abbout six foot eihgt in any case. He wagged his giant fingor, first into the face of the old basterd, and then in the face of his new ladyfreind who unflinchingley staired back like a frowning solid plaster lawn troll.
"I dont trust this 'yhear woman," Zeke thundored.
I DON'T CARE WHUTCHU THINK," Granfather screammed back. "I DON'T EVEN WANT TO BE HERE AT ALL, ZEKEY.
"IT'S A LONG DRIVE HOME, AND TONIGHT, THE 'MOST REPULSIVE GUINNES RECORDS EVER' IS ON FOX, AND I DON'T AIM TO MISS IT."
Uncle zeke repplied with some coment abbout how granfather "aims to miss everything else" if ever a bathroom is involved and also how Granp's lady freind is too "mentaly unsound" to be the president of a paint bomb companey, and othor rude things, and somwhere in the mix Granfather sprang up in retalliation with somthing shiny and heavey looking in his hand.
I didnt see what it was but uncle Zeke did. And when he saw it he stumboled backword, with a look of dumb vacant look of supprize on his alredy dullwitted face, the face of a suprised Andaman Island feral troppical chicken on the day the nest hatches and at once she realizes that all the danm eggs shes been caring for all this time were really baby monitor lizerds, the mothor of whom snuck in one day while the chickon was takin a leak and ate all the bird eggs and dropped her own in there place. And if aneyone in the animol kingdom had the evil lively look of a newborn monitor lizerd it was Granfather. The basterd held a powor tool in his hand. In an instent, his girlfreind, like a fast moving malignent tadpole hopped from her cheap folding chair to plug a cord in the cheap panelled wall.
Granfather scramboled toword him. Uncle Zeke, seeing what the basterd held in his hand turned white with fear, (ecxept that one corner of his face that got a very, very pale green). Granfather was holding a hammer drill with a socket atachment.
"REMEMBER MISTER WOOKIE WOOKIE?" he said with a diabolicol snicker. The old basterd leaped into the air, landing on Zeke's chest, who hourtled out of control and in his stumbling gangley staggor, fell looking just like the news footege of the damaged giant Cat in The Hat baloon in the Macy's Thanskgiving parade last year that deflated from high winds and lundged into the crowd knockin over a strreet lamp and injurred people. And so this year, as a result, they will be using smaller baloons. A result that everyone when i was in New York was bitchin abbout. Thats basicaly what Uncle zeke looks like when he falls, which is near every time I see him, if Granfather is ever in the room.
Too fast for anyone to stop him, Granfather knelt his small monkylike knees onto his brothor's chest as the largor man lay thrashin on his back on the floor and held the drill in the air and sqeueezed the trigger and it made a loud angry WOOOOOO-KIE noise. Then, tearin the bandege off his Zeke's Hermon Munsterlike head, Granps fitted the sockat onto the bolt on Zeke's head.
I will end this update here. With my whole familly watching in horrer as poor uncle zeke is twirled and twirled arround in viscious revolutions of at least ten times per second like a big bony human second hand on a clock, his feet whacking peoplle and chairs out of the way in his path, his head being in the centor, flopping, violentely shakin like a ragdoll getting serriously painful rugburn allover his body on every exposed point exept a hexagonnical three eihgths of an inch area of his frontol lobe that was covered by a socket atachment.