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The old bastord muttored somthing like 'HMMM, ROBUST BARKY FLAVOR ON THESE HERE MEXICONS' when quick as a flash he dropped the stogie from his moulth, kicked it behind him and then at the exact right (or shoud I say WRONG MOMENT) made the most enouormous monstrous gassy fart I have known him to make in many, many weeks.
I wont go into extreme detaile but I will say that Dad was 15 feet away and even still he lost his eyebrouws. They were friggin burned off plus his vision was inpaired from the sudden flash of light so that my stepmom had to drive the truck up to the airport to drop it off before their flight the next day.
More dammage: The apliances in the whole kitchon plus all the walls now have permonently stuck on them what is called by electricol engineers "baked-on-flux." It is a yellowish black carbon based stain like a comet trail on the whole interier length of the trailor. Granfather had only one thing to say abbout it, and it was in a perfect Robort Duvall voice:
"I LOVE THE SMELL OF NAPALM IN THE MORNING!"
Sick sence-of-humuor son-ofa-bitch. The doctor says that only one of dads eyebrows will grow back.
I cannot be regulor penpals with evoryone but i try to give a personal responce to every single peice of mail. In recent weeks i lost some incoming and outgouing mail due to a system crash. Also, allot of peoplle write asking if I know of remote work that can be done from home. Well the truth is, other than the jobs I currently have, i do not know of aneyone hiring for that type of telecommuting work. But if I do, i will post it here.
The type of telecommuting I do is specialised, because one of my jobs is writing an advice to the Lovelourn colunm under an assumed name, and the othor is writing an internet Industry colunm for The Netley News.
Well, in responce to the rude old bastord's increasingley shrill tone, one of the people who works at annother part of the New Media divison (a real wiseass I hear) wrote granfather back, and, (this is Granfather's word for it, which you cant alwayes trust), but suposedly the guy said: "I'll tell you what, Gramps. We cant pay you anything but we'll send you some extra absorbont adult undergarments for your skinny ass with the Time Warner logo on them."
Well dumbass that he is, Granps believed it.
And when the promised bootey never arrived, he called the guy up to complain. He was quite rude, and the guy hung up. Then the old bastord went ballistic. He called the next day and got the guy and HIS boss both on speakorphone and screamed at the top of his lungs with a cigarete clamped tight in his teeth: "YOU DONE MADE GRANPY A PROMISE FOR GRANPY'S SKINNY, WIREY-HAIRED ASS--NOW FOLLY-UP ON IT LIKE A MAN: SHOW ME THE DIAPERS! I SAID: SHOW...ME...THE DIAPERS!!!"
The guy later called me up, scared to death. His voice was quavory and I coud tell he was crying, and this is a hardoned New York juornolist. But this is the effect that Granfather has on people. I told him he shoudnt of provvoked him: The man is Evil Itself.
Then this guy's boss got HIS boss involved and escallated it--It looked like one of those big corporate brew-ha ha's was going to happen, where heads roll and asses get tossed out the door. You know what I'm talkin about.
Finaly my freind Noah who works there stepped in to head off the problem. Noah is one of the few people undor the age of 50 Granfather respects. Good thing UPS had been on strike, becuase Nooh called the old bastord and said that his package might of got delayed in transit. He had someone who works there buy a few diapers and stick logo stickers on them, and also fill up a box with mousepads, cofee cups, basball caps and other cheap-ass premiums that were hangin around the office and plus stuck in there a hubcap from an '88 Lincoln Limuosine someone found on the freeway on vacation because evoryone knows that Granfather colects hubcaps.
All of this placated Granfather and quieted him down from off of his high horse--NOT an easy thing to do, letme tell you.