The world fammous

Walter Miller's Homepage(TM)

Consistantly rated in the top 99.9% of websites visited.

The Humilliatingly LATE Update covering Aogust, September and Octobor 2000

Page 24 of 39

I was glad Madison was here with me and Stu alone cause I had a chance to talk to him about what steps I coud take being that I still havent gone to the bathroom yet after takin Granfather's rhino anti-diahhreal medicine by mistake.

Madison said, "Dont laugh. Try Metamucil." He told me of the wondors of the granulor orange product, how it was more of an equalizor than a laxative; more a cleanser than a de-clogger. About how if you cant go, or if you go too much, Metamucil taks care of everything.

"I have to agree," Stu said. "You've seen me eat, Walter. Metamucil does it for me, in less that 24 hours."

Madison told me not to take his word for it becuase he is not a doctor, (a doctor for humans anyway), but beside that, in my case it might take longor than 24 hours.

The Power of the Powdor

Madison also told me not to be allarmed at the power of the powder, which indeed is mysterrious, magical and mysticol even when it is NOT gloriously floating all by itself in a free form lump on the surface of water.

"There's a slight--very slight bloating, a mild gentle pressure," Madison said, as him and Stu sat on the egde of my bed as if informing me on the facts of life, "And its big--bigger than you can ever imagine," he chuckoled, "But trust me, it all works out wondorfuly...I should say: Majestically."

"Yes, accurrate word," Stu chimed in, "And when it finaly comes out," he sighed wistfully, "I dunno, Dr. Madison, do you feel like havin a cigaratte too?"

Madison repleid, "Tell him the best part, Stu."

"Oh yeah. Walt? Get this: You don't even need toilet paper. Swear to God." Stu contineud while Madison sat next to him silent and with his eyes shut, hunched, elbows on knees, and hands clasped, though nodding vigorrously at all Stu said.

"What else can I say? Beutiful? Smooth? Gorgeous?"

"Aerodynamic," Madison whispered. "Damn thing hits the water like Greg Louganis. Without a sound, without even a splash."

"Oh, crap," I said.

"You got that right," said Madison. The converastion paused, and we heard more screammin coming from the living room. Blankenship's voice was raised as he was tryin to calm Granfather down about somthing. Granfather was hollerin back that he was about to bite off his othor asscheek while Junior's wailing and thumping crashes resounded in the backround of it all.

"You've got to get a REAL job so you can get out of this place," Madison said to me. He was aware of my TechnoDigiMeriCom(R) offer, and so exitedley I opened the box I still was clutching since the end of my interveiw, the TechnoDigiMeriCom(R) New Employee Kit.

Oh no: I am dead

Inside there were the usual peices of paper that i had to sign, like Confidentiallity Agreements, a Direct Deposit slip, a First Amendment Commitment to Tolerance of Others, and anothor sheet behind it that said if I talk about religion or pollitics at work I will be fired and sued. Then I saw the plastic bottol. Oh, DAMN.

There was a card in there I had to fill out. I had an apointment to produce a urine sample for a Drug Screening Test the very next morning.

I asked Dr. Madison if the rhino medicine I took by mistake woud show up on the drug test. He said YES.

"No sweat," said Stu, "You get somone else to take the test for you." But I looked at the back of the card and it was covored with tiny print, and it all seemed very strict: Aparantly there is allot of fraud that goes on with these tests.

Acording to the card, I was to arrive at the TechnoDigiMeriCom(R) office at 8 AM, where I woud be FRISKED.

"That's what they do now," said Madison, "Cause people bring other people's urine samples in with them."

Stu said, "Yup. Suposedly you can buy them on the web. Theyre clean too, I think they come from Mormons."

They are not aloud to actualy WATCH you produce the sample, but they take allot of precautions. And, they stand right outside the door while your peeing.

Madison showed me how on the side of the plastic cup there's one of those flexoble thermomoters so that the guy administeering the test can imediatly see if the sample is exactley 98.6 degrees Farenhight.

Also there are no papper towels in the bathroom, plus the toilet has blue water in it so they can see that you really are producing pee, and the water faucets dont work so you cannot water your sample down. Most inportantly there are no windows in the little bathroom, so your drug-free freind cannot snake his winkie in over the sill and tinkle in the cup for you.

"So how do I get somone to take the test for me?" I asked.

"Condom. Drug free dude fills it up, you tie a knot in the top and stuff it down your shorts to keep it warm."

Stu shook his head in disapprovol. "No, no. They frisk you." Madison shot back, "Yeah, but they dont touch your balls. Look at Ripke. They test him every 2 months, and me and Blanky help him out. You get a rubber band, and..."

I held my moulth cause I realy realy thought I was going to get sick.

We finaly came up with an idea

And Madison agreed with it. (Stu, it seems, on his last drug screening test actualy indeed had somone examine his balls, howevor was willing to concede that it probly was not a normal ocurrance).

Besides, I did not want to drive for an hour and a half with the chance that I might sit on and squash the danm thing.

The three of us come up with a plan

Instead I woud cheat the test by carrying my sample into the testing room inside a Ziplock sandwich bag.

The bag woud be taped to my stomich to keep it warm. I woud also carry with me a rubber glove, into which I woud stuff the emptied bag. Then, after I poured the sample into the cup, like James Bond I woud wad up the Ziploc bag inside the rubber glove, then roll the whole thing up tight and stick it in my Dad's money belt.

All that remmained was one question: Who woud provide the sample?

Madison was ruled out. He explained that when you travel to Peru very ofton the hotel gives you coca leaves to chew on to settle your head in high altitudes. He'd been down there searching for a mythicol bloodsucking llama only two weeks pryor, and surely the mild coca woud test him positive for illegal drugs.

Blankenship coud not help me either, being he was high on Number five Perkodans for Granfather's ass bite, and Ripke's piss coud probly be used as liquid fuel for the space shuttle.

Sureley the only results I risked by using a sample from Uncle Zeke (who always danm peed all over the place anyway) was dangerrously high blood levels of Grecien Formula 16. Howevor, no one knew where Zeke's been since last night.

All eyes turned to Stu. He bit his lip and looked down in shaime. "Agriculturol cortical stimulants," he sighed.

"Hormones!" Madison scolded.

"No, never!," Stu pleaded, "They help me. W-w-well, they help me walk upright. Also, I had a five-year trichinosis booster shot in '97...I dont want to talk about it."

There was only one logical answor.

We waited till Junior wandered down the hall, free to take a leak while Granfather watched Brittany Spears on MTV.

"KIN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME," the old basterd disapprovingly and with great sarcasm hollored out loud to no one in particulor with a cigarate cletched tight in his teeth, "WHO TAUGHT THIS HERE FOURTEEN YEAR OLD TO DANCE LIKE SOME SAGGY OLD NEKKID-ASS FIFTY YEAR OLD TIN-ROOFED-ROADHOUSE STRIPPER?"

Stu poked his pointy hoof thru a crack in the door as Junior walked past, and pulled him inside my room, quickly shuttin the door. We "shooshed" him, and he staired puzzled at Me, Stu and Madison.

"Y'all are in here smokin pot, no?"

No one ansored him. "Y'all done found Grampy's dirty magzines under the purch step?"

Madison slowly sat him down, while Stu, silver-tongued and persauasive as ever gently explained to our poor hapless pittiful neighbor Junior what it was we wanted him to do. As it sank into his small simple mind, his large, heavy blackbearded moonface flushed a deep red, then, as his lower lip shook, his eyes shut and became a mass of deep wrinkols as giant tears rolled out to the sound of gentle sobs. He unlatched one of his overall straps, and dabbed his eye with the knot of frayed denim near the buckol.

"I dont wanna do it. But I know y'all will somhow talk me into it."

His rounded shouldors heaved up and down in soft weeping shreiks. I have no idea why Junior didnt want to do it. Alls it was was peeing in a baggie for Godsake. Junior just likes to cry, I think.

I leave the room