If "Walter Miller's Homepage" is the answer, it must have been a pretty stupid question.
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The reason my brother Spike was there was to place all these special coverings to the wires -- so Granfather woudnt step on them agian.
Spike knelt on the floor beneath where Uncle William sat gasping and wheezing in his wheelchiar, and threaded all the medicol hoses thru some alunimum case piping, the type you normally run ellectric wires through and muttored to me, "Honestly, I dont know why the hell I'm doing this. He's got, like a week to live," said Spike. "We oughto let Granfather just kill him, so he can go off to prison."
Uncle Will heard what Spike said and slowly drew his foot foword while Spike wasnt looking up and dug his sharp toenail thruogh his tattored sock into the side of Spike's eyeball.
"OW! You little dryed up basterd!," Spike howled at Uncle Will.
Meanwhile Uncle Zeke had made it a point to keep an eagles eye watch on Granfather to protect their brothor Will -- because Granfather still wanted to kill him.
After he chased Tilde away, Zeke sat all sullen at the kitchon table brooding like an angry adolessent. To my horror, once agian he began staring at the Metamucil glass.
"Whut the hell is this thang aginn? Someone tole me but I fergot." he mused to himself.
Tilde was now bothering Junior, who sat watchin the television, which blared loudly in competition with the CD player. Next to Junior sat Madison who once agian tapped away at his laptop. Granfather grabbed me (very very painfulley) by the ear and dragged me ovor to them.
"LISSEN UP, BOY: YOU, MADISON AND JUNIOR ALL THREE GOT ONE JOB: DISTRACT MAH BROTHER ZEKE.
I must of looked pretty sick to Granfather cause he staired his ugly viper eyes right at me.
"WHUT'S UP WITH YOU BWAH? YOU DONE LOOK LIKE YOU JUST SEEN A GHOST."
I explained to Granfather what hapened back at the office while trying to control the cold shivorring willies which ran up and down my spine.
"Granfather, I...I..I saw my freind Stu without his shirt on, and his...his CHEST, Oh God..."
"YEP, I DONE SEEN THAT SCENE ONCE TOO," he nodded, "A YEAR OR TWO BACK, WHEN MISTER PIGGY DONE SPENT THE NIGHT HERE. I SEEN HIM WEARIN NOTHIN' BUT A BATH TOWEL. IT WERE ENOUGH TO MAKE A MAN SWARE OFF TITS, I TELL YOU WHUT.
I said, "I am feeling so queezy, plus my stomoch hurts...", and the beastly geezer interupted me, "DO YOU KNOW WHUT ELSE?
And before I coud answor him he SMACKED me! Yes on the side of my head and it hurt.
"SNAP OUT OF IT, YUH DUMBASS, he seethed poisonously, "LIKE I SAID, YOU GOT A JOB: DISTRACT ZEKEY.
"ONCE HE'S NICE AND DRUNK AN' GOES OFF TO BED, I'M GONNA SHOW THEM MEXICAN TV FRIENDS O'MINE MAH MAGICAL METAMUCIL ISLAND. RIGHT NOW THEY'RE STILL WONDERIN' WHY I DONE TOLE THEM TO DRIVE UP."
Tilde whimpored, "What can I do, Grampy? Oh, I want to help too!"
"GOOD. GIT YER UGLY ASS FACE OUT MAH HOUSE." The basterd turned agian to the men.
"CATHYANN IS THAR PESTERING ZEKE! JUNIOR, YOUR JOB IS TO GO DISTRACT HER WHILE THE REST O'YALL DISTRACT HIM."
Junoir hung his head in shame, "Grampy I aint good at distracting women," and before he coud finish Granfather had reached behind himself and with a huge tug whipped the rubber hose in thru the trailer window. Holding the hose's open end in front of his mouth where a cigarete danced in his gummy lips a blast of flame shot out which briefly for a blazing instant covered Junior's face. The smell of burnt beard hair filled the trailor as Junior thrashed in agonized terror like the Scarecrow aftor the Wicked Witch lit him up with her broom.
"THAT WAS A LOVE TAP!" Granfather screamed and went on to rant and rave that hed have no compucntion to keep him from burning every hair off Junior's body like what you do to a fresh killed possum being readied for stew.
Before the last flame on his face was even out, Junior had hopped up and ran as fast as he coud over to where Cathyann was. By this time Cathyann had cornered poor Dr. Ripke, who like I said was still there in our house and by now was also no good for nothing.
"LOOKY HERE, YOU ONE O'THEM MONKEY DOCTORS, RIGHT?" she blaired to the poor frightenned criptozoologist, "THEN TAKE A LOOK AT THIS HERE PICTURE O'MAH BOYFRIEND, DUU WAYNE."
Cathyann thrust the TechnoDigiMeriCom(R) building carpet cleaning ID pass in Ripke's simpering vacant face. "AIN'T HIS DANM HEAD TOO BIG? BWAHAHAHAHA!"
Poor Ripke just squatted on the floor cowering against the breakfront and treid to sheild his face and ears.
As expected he got verry tired and distracted. But as is also expected with inexpereinced drinkers, Zeke got a little bold and surly after the first bottol of the fruity clear drink was drained.
"Whut's thet thar hose on the floor?" he demanded.
"Um, I don't know, Uncle Zeke," I said.
"Is thet one of Willy's hoses?"
"I dont know, Uncle," I said.
Deliberatly, like a big stooping dullwitted Frankenstein he plodded over to where the black hose that one end of which hung out the window, the othor up Gramp's ass, crossed his path on the floor. Reeling, he drunkenly staired at it. Then he looked up at Granfather, who looked back at Zeke with the flashing anxious eyes of a nervuous puppy about to get thrashed for makin a dump on the rug.
"Whuts thet hose for, little brother?," Zeke demanded.
"WHY, I DON'T KNOW, BIG BROTHER," said the old basterd with false formallity. Slowly Zeke lifted his size 17 workshoe and mashed the hose flat. Granfather looked back in fear. Color flushed his sunken scaly cheeks. Woud the old basterd risk death by exploading? What price woud he pay to protect his world record?