Walter Miller's Homepage
Cream always rises to thetop. But so does that disgousting green stuff on the top of a pond. You know what Im talking about.
Mid-Setpember 1997 Penultimate-on-Prodigy Update
Page 3 of 7
The sherrif comes by
One of our neighbors lives about a mile away and atcually heard the old bastord's superhuman (or shoud I say sub human, non-human, Hell, anti-hueman) barking shouts and so she called the cops. I let the sherrif in and he told me that his wife called him up at the station to say that she coud hear his bawling too all the way at their house, (they live FIVE MILES from us!!), but not as loud as our neighbor one mile away. But the sherrifs wife did say that the vibbrations were so intence that items on shelves and their metol kitchen table like glasses and coins were slowly moving. She thuoght they had a danm poltergiest.
The sherrif said to Granfather, "STOP SCREAMIN, GRANPY." The old wiry troll said "KISS MY ASS, LAWMAN" and then when the Sherrif said that his wife heard him hollering all the way over at where they live, Granfather said to the sherrif "SO WHUT," that he coud hear HER SNORING, all the way over from the Sherrifs side of the bed when the sherrif was out of the house working a shift.
Oh crap!!! What a mean thing to say to a man who can put tickets on your windsheild or WORSE. I imediatly appologized proffusely on behalf of the lying sunofabich and said that Granfather was NOT carrying on with his wife: I knew it as a fact. The sherrif seemed pissed and said to me "I KNOW THAT, BOY."
a threat of arrest
Then he went over to granfather an said for him to SHUT up or else hed run him in for disordorly conduct. Granfather looked at him, narrowed his eyes, his head suspended upside down while trapped in the rolling mass of steel, body twisted, upsidedown and arch-backed, and twictched his foot, pointing his ugly toe up toward his heaving sweaty torso."LEMME ASK YOU, SHERRIF:
HOW DO YOU KNOW I AIN'T GOT ME A FIREARM HID HERE IN IN MUH HAIRY SCRAGGLY-ASS WEATHERED HIDE?" The Sherrif looked back, puzzled.
It Was Like a Showdown in the Old West
The 2 men faced eachother, staring, their eyes squinting through the dusty rays of bright sun which streamed into the window. The sherrif's hand hovered a few inches abbove his holstered weapon, his trigger finger quavvering slightly; Granfathers big toe slowly encircled the air directly abbove a thick hairy thatch of fur on the side of his neck which may or may not hold a revolvor; (Law men in these parts have learned NOT to undorestimate the evil wiles of Granpy). Off in the distance, a dog (Drive By) softly barked, and Granfather bit his lip, and made the quiet "woo-aa-ooo-aa-ooo" noise from his nose. Each watched the othor for rapid maneuvors, and inapproppriate sudden movements.
...speaking of "sudden Movements"
With his hands totaly restrained in his bent steel prison, and before the sherrif coud react, or even blink, Granfather whipped that foot behind him and whipped off his ass the diaper. All in one instant, the strips of velcro screeched apart, the bastord bobbled the booty in his gnaroled yellow foot, then hourled the smelly missile toword our guest, who didnt have time to duck or move. Just as granfather said "IT AINT JEST A WEAPON SHERRIF, ITS A LOADED WEAPEN, the diaper fanned open, its edge hitting the wide brim of his hat, pushed it off, then landed in its place, flopping dirrectly onto his head with a sqiushy slap.
The poor sherrif looked like an extra from The Crucible as one of those Dutch settler woman from the 1600s with a little white bonnet on her head. (Ecxept for the 100% Pure Granfather running down his ears that is.) He drew his .45 and pointed it at the ghastley monstor's shreiking, laughing upside down head, which was cackling now like Roseann Barr.
i was begging granfather PLEASE to stop.
"YOU AINT GOT THE ROCKS TO PULL THE TRIGGER" he taunted him.
But then the sherriff cocked the weapon.
Granfather frowned deeply, his unified eyebrow scrunching in disapprovol. The steel rolling cage jiggled a little, as the beast quickly jarred it a quarter turn, toword the TV table, where his one movable ankle reached for a longneck beer bottol upon it.
Granfather grabbed the bottle with his foot, then dug his big toe into the opening. Then he swung his ankle foward and busted the bottle on his own forehead. In a sly, mennacing way, he scampored toward the Sherrif, brandishing the brokkon end of the bottle at him, waving and jabbing the jagged glass at him.
"YOU WANNA PEICE OF THIS? YOU WANNA PEICE OF ME? COME AN' GIT IT, DONUT-EATOR!!" he caterwauled at him. i was very upset and started cryin and begged Granfather to STOP NOW.
The showdown endsThe sherrif looked down at his gun, hesitated, and then descided he really coudnt shoot the ensconced bastord. (Besides, him and Granfather are freinds and play cards togethor on Sunday afternoon usualy.)
The sherrif also told me that he really coudnt really put handcuffs on Granfather either, because he woud feel funny about it and besides there was noplace to cuff him TO, being the ankle hung in the centor of the contraption touching the floor.
An arest avvertedWhen the old creature saw that he put his gun away, he agreed to the sheriff's demand that he put the bottol down. And just when the sherrif went off to the bathroom to wash his head off undor our bathtub spigot, Granfather threw the bottle AT ME.
it just missed my face
Now I WAS MAD.
Granfther told me to hush up, becuase he said that he woudnt of throwed it at me if he knew I wasnt agile enough to duck. "AND IF'N IT WOUDA HIT YER UGLY FACE BOY," he said to me, "IT'D BE AN INPROVEMENT, SO THE WHOLE DEAL WERE A WIN-WIN SITCHIATION".