...and the seer then said to the traveller, "Ah, young one! Wise man say, there are many Walters..."
Page 7 of 7
The next morning there is a loud knock at the door: Dad was on the phone with my stepmom in California and Granfather was again watching TV. I was in truoble with my job, and at that moment was going thruogh a bunch of e-mails I had just gotton off of the web before Dad had to use the phone; about 41 e-mails from Cyberblop, going back and forth with annother stupid client of theirs.
It seems that some higher-up, uppor-management idiot with his head up his own ass who runs the client's compeny hapened to be fartin around with a web connection at an Internet conferrence. And he found a couple of peoplle linking to thier new website.
So, he called his companey's legel deppartment and asked if it was a violation of trademark for somone to link to them. The legal department said it is probly NOT, but in any case, he told them JUST TO BE SAFE to draft a bunch of nasty lettors to the people linking to them and also and their ISPs to tell them to stop.
Cyberblop was now involved, becuase we had to tell them, "NO, you horse's asses, you WANT peoplle to link to you: That is WHY you have a website." (and that is WHY we chardged you $100,000 for it, even though we didnt say that too).
Ovbiously these people didnt know a danm thing about the internet. My God, peoplle pay big money to have the right people link to them. But in any case the big isseu, acording to the client, was, "Since we are alowing people to link to us, are we opening oursleves up for exposure?"
Aparently, four onsite meetings, ten phone calls and 41 e-mails all adressed this "problem" if even it is a problem. And once agian, in a great celebrettory ritual of mutuol admiration, (a must in this industrey), corporate butt covering (so as not to piss off the client), and lovingly blowing smoke up one anothor's asses up the chain of command, (in order to keep your own danm job), the issue was discussed at lenhtgh, but NOT resolved, as no one thruoghout the whole danm thing dared disagree with anyone else. I mean, Godforbid someone spend 100k on a website only to have somone link to the danm thing.
The only thing resolved was a resolution that we woud all "re-group" and "re-touch-base" on a later but indeterminnite date on this very, very inportant issue. And we were all "to think abbout it" while back in our cubes and workstattions and oak panelled big offices with our thumbs up our asses. But once agian I digress...
Granfather kept denying callin them up, contineuing to say some crap about "refferring to my prior statement."
Finaly he clammed up entireley. But the blank silent staire of combined guilt, anger and remorse on the old basterd's ugly face betrayed the fact that he, while alone, (COMPLETLY alone), indeed had prank-called them up in the wee hours multipple times, (37 times in fact -- THIRTEY SEVEN), both to say obsceene things and to launch intestinol percussion sounds into the phone. (At his reallization of this, Dad, in horror, quickley dropped the phone which at that moment was unfortunnatly close to his moulth.)
Dad and my brothor start screammin at each othor. Dad said, "How dare they try to have Granfather killed,and who desciddes who will die?" My brothor said that Granfather is nothin but a drain on the human race, plus he owes everyone money. My brother also said, "The EVIDENCE descides who lives and dies, and the eviddence agianst Granfather is ovorwhelming.
As they foght, Uncle Zeke kept sayin that Granfather was "unfit" for the human race, and shoud die. Granfather countered that he woud indeed contineu to live, and woud strive to avoid legal euthonasia, in order, in his own croaking words, "to preserve the dignity of the office."
"Whut office?," Uncle Zeke hollared back, "An' whut dignity? You ain't nothin' but a danm animal on welfare whut owes me $124,000 over these here last 30 years thet you done stoled from me."
Uncle Zeke was right, and not onley that it was many more dollors than that that he didnt even remmember.
"I'M YOUR YOUNGER BROTHER, ZEKEY, BY TEN YEARS: YOU SHOUD BE THE ONE TO DIE!" Granfather screammed.
"'Least I didnt stick a dagnab MOO-vie cam'ra up muh BEE-hind," Zeke repplied in his slow, stilting drawl, shiftin unconfortably on his giant feet, and scratchin big tall flat ass., "Why dontcha act yer dang age, little brother?"
"WHY DON'T YOU ACT YOURS, ZEKEY, AN' LIE REAL STILL IN A SIX-FOOT DEEP HOLE AN' LET US ALL SHOVEL DIRT ON YOU, YOU OLD SUMBITCH!"
I was just sort of standing there. My brother stopped fighting with Dad for a momant, and he sudenly turned to me. Roughley he shook my shouldors.
"I smell crap."
I said to him WHAT ELSE IS NEW.
He said "did Granfather crap lately?"
With his hand protected by a few wastebasket bags, my brothor emerged from the bathroom holding up a small dark square of plastic (covored with Granpy muck), and with a big smile on his face."GIVE IT TO ME, BWAH!!!" Granfather shrieked.
KISS MY ASS YOU OLD BASTERD said my brothor.
EppilogWe are now back home in Texas. Dad and my brother and sisterinlaw are back in California and Uncle Williem and Uncle Zeke, (both happening to live a few hours drive from Newerk there on the East coast), are also back in there homes.
I guess coud go on and on and on abbout how it all ended. How the Police came in at that moment, at the same time as the Federol officials, each armed with an order to seize my brother and Uncle. How Granfather dropped the chardges, based on the "evidence" presented. And how they lost there depposit with a crooked Dutch doctor in Amstardam, who chardged them for not cancelling the visit 24 hours in advance, like they were suposed to do. (Cheap bastord doctors: All of them, I say).
Yes, the tape was boring as hell. It was 4 hours of listenning to Granfather rambol on and on.
Mostley the audio was what we heard -- no video -- becuase it was very dark inside the basterd's colon, (except on the last day, when it got close to exitting, and light got in).
The only thing close to a funny moment came at a point when Granfather bent his head down realley close to his butt and was able to look straihgt into the camera. It was the onley part of the tape his face was even seen: With his reading glasses ballanced on his nose, and defiantly wagging his fingor into the camera which was half stuck in his rectom, Granfather staired firmly at us, (upside down becuase of the angle), and declaired in a perfect, cool, whispery immitation of Christophor Walken in Pulp Fiction when he was solemnley presenting the little boy who woud later grow up to be Bruce Willis with the wristwatch that he painfuly hid in an orrifice from the Viet Cong in a prison cell, "FOR TWO YEARS, BUTCH...TWO YEEAHS I HELD THIS UNCOMFORTABLE HUNK OF METAL IN MY ASS."
Lator, after much neggotiaton, (and alot of money in legal bills, that Dad had to pay), the verdict was in.
It was agreed once and for all, that when the camcordor got logded in Granfather's butt, it indeed was on its way out and NOT on its way in. And also, (this is important now), there was not at any time any motive to "arouse or gratify," and therefour, Granfather (acording to the binding mediator), was desciddly declared NOT insane, and not worthey of youthennasia.
Of course, the mediator said as a caveat, "I am a lawyor, not a sceintist," and so other chardges may at anothor time indeed be broght.
Zeke, William, my brother and his wife all swore to me and dad and my stepmom that an old fashionned family fued was now in effect: That they, one day, will get the money (and colectibles) from Granfather that he owes them. We will see how it turns out.