I feel that this is still a marginally more honest way to mak a living than bein a lawyor
Page 4 of 7
Granfathers nakad back looks allot like some sort of toppographicol map you may remember from a class trip to the state museum. There are allot of multycolored lumps bumps and boils to say the least. I imagine if you took an estuarine sturgeonfish and starved him till he was half dead or perhaps an annorectic monkfish with all the boney protrussions exentuated from the famished retracted skin it woud approximate the iregulor scraggly lumpy planetlike landscape of the bastord's back. But it is not an uninhabbited planet.
The spiny dorsol ridge of the old evil monstrous beast's back runs down the centor like the bare Siera Nevada on the center of the map. But on eithor side, there thrives thick thatches of forested black wirey hair and crustey scaly skin where lives all of the little bugs and flies that you can imagine. It is so danm gross its not funny. The only way to kill them all is is with pure kerosine that I puor on and scrub very hard with a belt sander. I think we are dealing with a whole ecosystem here because at onetime all we had were little tiny bugs but on this day i had an inciddent that was ecxactly like on the comercial for the Starship Troopers movie where the giant insect popps up from the dirt. I wont tell you how big the danm thing was but it woudnt fit down the drain when it treid to scampor away.
After i blow dryed the beast I called Noah, my boss at The Netlynews to ask if they were havvin phone problems and also did i miss anything inpourtant at the meeting. Noha asked me if i was havin a party at my house or was i just using poor jugdement in joking around during the conference call with my sence of humor.
He said there was allot of loud music that was disruppting the meeting and dominatting the speakerphone---this cuts off othor people when they want to say somthing or hear what is going on. And also the whole department plus the peopple down the hall all heard loud screaming and worst of all awful farting sounds. Noah told me too that he got his ass chewed out by HIS boss.
And he said that the way i deal with the problom was up to me.
Then he woke me up in the middol of the night by screamin that there was a raccoon or some othor type of rabid mammal in his room. It DID sound authenntic. When i ran in he scared the hell out of me and then said: "SQUIRREL CALL, PAGE 25: JUST $7.49.". (Yes it turned out the olny rabbid mammol in the room was HIM). And while i was still in the room, and beffore i had time to react he slammed me on the ass with a handshake shockor he had in his hand, while giggling: "JOY BUZZER, PAGE 57: JUST $1.98."
For the last 2 weeks as you can probly immagine there was plastic cochroaches in my iced tea, fake ketchup on my keyboard, fake dog doo in my shoes, (a pleasent suprize from real Granp poo, which realy hapenned once--dont ask), and a fake flesh colored gelatin brain in my tofu containor. I tell you this year Page 56 and 57 have allot of cool pranks ecxept i am gettin all the pranks turned on me. So far Granfather spent ovor $800 on Johnson Smith in just this year aloane.
"GIT YER SCANT SPARE ASS OUTSIDE AN' GIT ME MUH GOLLDANG GOLD LEAF FAKE OL' HORSE HIDE BIG ASS SIZE KING TUT HAT!"
What granfather was referring to was this mysterrious thing he owns that he keeps undor wraps and that only comes out on special ocassions.. Granfather and his brothers belong to this secret societty that I do not know all of the details about, and it involves this fancey Eygyptian Head dress he keeps undor wraps in a velvet lined wood chest wrapped in a Hefty bag out in the storm celler.
Whatevor this secrat society is all abbout, the little I know of it consists of the fact that it involvs obsesive collectors and their weird colections (much like Granfather and his brothors). And also the fact that the way to REALY piss off Uncle Zeke who is normolly calm and restrained is for him to see his old bastord youngor brothor with that King Tut bonnet on his crusty head.
The late model Pontiac gruond to a halt and my slow moving but still viggorous great uncle emerged from the car. Its been cold here lately and he was wearing his fammiliar sheepskin hunting cap with the ear flaps. I saw him delibberately remove the hat and place on his head this large purple turban with a big yellow stone in the center. Then he plodded toward the trailer steps in his trademarked stooped slouching gait.
Uncle Zeke looked at him with a twindge of shock and his face quivvered a bit with angor but he supressed it.
"Little brothor, you are a fraud" he said.
Then my Uncle looked at me and pointed his long tapering finger to the stone on the front of his turben. He grunted "Howdy, Boy" and then said to us bolth: "This here ain't no fake peice o'yaller glass. This here's a genuine yaller topaz inported from Bangolly-Desh."