It just keeps gettin more and more pittiful.
Page 6 of 6
For exampol, you surely alreaddy know from reading my Updates that Granfather used to date the female Muffin Tray counterpart of politicol consultent James Carvill. She was small, weasely, had a cue-ball head, and a diabollical wispiness about her, but she was NOT James Carvill; (not that Mr. Carvill IS those things: I am not sugesting that in the least); but acording to Granfather's beleif she was indeed his Female Countorpart.
Before this he also dated the female version of poppulor elderley gaunt yet suave game show host Bob Barkor. And for a theorey which I know is not true, it is amazing how uncanilly acurrate it seems to be. I tell you, i get mail from readers all the time, including one man in the Atlanta area who wrote me a very sincear note once telling me that his dad is truly the male African American versoin of the actress who plays Jerry Seinfeld's mother. Part of the family knows this and the rest are in denial. I will not coment.
So, in any event, to me, it was no supprise, that here, 35,000 feet above the Misisippi river on a flight from Nework Internattional back to somwhere in Texas that we woud meet, (and that there woud be an instant and mutuol atraction take place between her and Granfather), none othor than the Female versien of H. Ross Perot.
Yes it was realy her. And upon first glance of her, i knew that my life (at least for a while) woud cease to be the same. Once the horifficoly ghastley and somwhat acurate Paula Jones mask was off his grizly face, Granfather coundt stop stairing at her. She staired back too, from nine rows ahead on the othor side of the aisle winking and makin little air kisses.
"AIN'T SHE PURTY?" Granpy breathed.
Oh man it was so disgousting. I thoght i was going to hurl.
At one point the flight atendent asked the odd looking little old woman to please dont lean into the aisle behind her to stare at Granps cause she had to pass thruogh with the bevorage cart.
"Git thet truck off muh driveway," she sharpley twanged at her angrilly. I took a good look at her. And whoa, she looked like who Granfathor thoght she was: little beady small dark-steely-pachinko-machine-ball eyes, and those big ears atached to that tiny, tiny, tiny little head, a head that looked like an apple that had all the skin stripped off and hacked down with blunt cuts to exact half size by somone rolling a danm lawn mowor over it two or three times till it shot out from underneath the blade guard, and shot across the yard. I tell you it was her, allright: The Female H. Ross Himself.
Once Granfather and me had her in view agian, we saw that she'd gotten some hot water from the beverigde cart, and into this she poured the contents of one of those Instent Cappuchino packets. As the fake foam sprang to life, slowley and seductively she slurped it off while looking at the old basterd, just like Rated X way Ally McBeal does with the latte foam on the Fox network. (How the hell they get away with that on TV is beyond me.)
Granfather was now beside himself with glee watchin his newlady freind and chattored at me wildley:
"CAPPUCHINO, MOCHACHINO, LATTECHINO, AL PACINO, WHOO-EEE!
"HEY BWAH: DON'T JEST SIT THAR. PUT YER OLD GRANPAP'S METAMUCIL IN THET THAR CLUB SODY.
NOW, YOU DUMBASS SUMBITCH."
And aftor this foamed up and Granfather returned the gestoure, with orenge foam crusted all on his lips, well, this was all my stomoch coud stand. I bolted from my seat, and ran to the back of the plane. Good thing the john wasnt ocuppied cause as soon as i was in there i latched the door shut and duked my brains out.
For the rest of the flight I stood in the back of the plane. The stewordess who earlier got hollered at by the female Ross Pero showed pitty on me an let me sit in her little foldout chair in the galley. Also she gave me some dry crackers. She was only a few years older than me and real prettey, and usualy the pretior they are the more enbarassed you are when you cry in front of them, which is what I did. Not just abbout how Granfather acts but abuot my whole life. She was petting my shouldor and said "PLEASE CONTROL YOURSELF."
I didnt mind THAT. Somtimes bein a big immatture baby has its rewords.
Meanwile the old basterd and his new babe chattored on loudly while sittin togethor and coursley joking on a whole lot of things to the general anoyance of all aboard. Granfather as usuol had to throw his weight arround in public as to impress his lady. I heard him scream at the flight atendent who served him his meal, "YOU CALL THIS SALSBERRY STEAK? WAAL, I CALL IT 'SECRETERIAT'."
Where we live you haveto take a conecting flight. It was in the oposite direction of her final destinnation, thank God. But I didnt count on Granfather changing his plans so fast. When we landed, and disenbarked at DFW to get our conecting flight, Granfather said to me,
"YOU GO ON AHEAD HOME, BWAH. ME AND THE FEMALE H. ROSS HERE IS GOIN TO HER PLACE."
I treid to explain to him that this was not a good idea. That we had family councilling to atend to, and that this was mandated by law. I also said to him, (and I think by saying this I hurt his feelings but you know what? That is too danm bad), "Granfather, taka good look at her while she eats and tell me she isnt the female Ros Perrot at all but insted the female Taco Bell dog."