Like evereyone else in this industry, I want money and respect. Even if I dont deserve it.
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"SO, I STEPPED ON A FEW OF WILLY'S WIRES. IT'S THE YEAR TWO THOUSAND, DAMMIT. IT'S TIME TO GO WIRELESS."
No one seemed to care that somthing ghastley had just took place. Spike hollered back at Granps that no one was to eat the cole slaw and such till the meat was ready. By the time he finnished the sentence Granfather was squatted on his haunches right on the table and darting his tiny poisionous face in and out of the potatoe salad in a stickey mess like a deranged pigmy marmoset attacking a pile of tree sap.
It was horroble. I tell you I woud of preferred the old basterd chase me arround the yard hauling firecrackers at me. Remarkably, Uncle Zeke stayed with us and did not go to the hospitol with Uncle William. To calm us all down, Darlene broght out a pitcher of margaritas, and a battery oporated TV set. The old basterd gulped his grink down in a very greedy way. While Spike grilled the meat, me, Zeke and the old basterd watched some patriotic Fourth Of July show on PBS that had coverage of the Tall Ships in New York City harber. Remarkably Granfather and Uncle Zeke began chatting stiffley yet amiably about all sorts of things like the weathor and price of propane. It was strange and made their fighting even more disfunctional, I thuoght. After a while, still watching the tall ships, the old basterd started being a pain in the ass agian.
"AIN'T IT NIGHTTIME YET OVER THAR? LET'S SEE SOME FIREWORKS," the old basterd spat past a frosty margarita moustache. Granfather still does not undorstand there is only one hour time diference. When they showed the Presidential Naval Review, Uncle Zeke growled that Clinton ordered a "naval reveiw" only cause he thoght he'd see a bunch of bikini girls. A new fight looked like it was going to erupt so I got up and went in the house.
Yes I am a jerk: I fell in love with my counselor. She was counselling me for emotional problems. I have a poorselfimage and also lots of disfunctional family issues. It is agianst regulations to be counselling someone who is in love with you. So she had to give me up as a patient. I tried to keep my feelings secret from her, but she found out. I was acting wierd toword her. (Also, I sent her some anonnymous love poems but, being a smart woman, somhow she figured out it was ME sending them. I think the typoes tipped her off).
Also another slight, insignifocant thing complicated mattors -- shes 14 years older than me. Well anyway, our sessions ended more than two years ago. Then she stopped bein a counselor all together. I heard a rumor that its because she failed so bad with me.
Like a swooning lovestruck idiot I imediatly got off the computer. I was so anxious I didnt even log out I just pulled the phone jack out and imediatly called her house. Yes I have the number memmorized. She made me promise a year ago never to call her anymore. This is becuase I was callin her up alot and telling her I love her. Every phone call woud always end with me crying. Yes I know I have allot of growing up to do. But now I had an ecxuse to call her!!!
I was so nervuos my hands were shaking. When I talk to her this is what hapens to me: I shake all over and my hands get sweaty. I get a sore throat and I feel like I am going to throw up. It is true love.
Anyway alls I got was her phonmail. I left this awfull message where I coud barely get the words out. My voice tends to get high when I'm nervuos. I sounded like Minnie Mouse.
In my euphoria I did not hear the yelling and screamin in the yard. Granfather was havin a fight with Darlene. They were realy going at it. It seems that on the TV, some high up muckety-muck of PBS was reading the Declaraton of Independence, while the tall ships floated into Newyork Harbor in the backround.
"What the hell is your problem?," Darlene screammed. Granfather, hopping around like an angry chimp and sloshing his drink around shouted, "THEY READ IT TO SAY, 'ALL MEN AND WOMEN' ARE CREATED EQUAL."
Darlene yelled back, "So?", and he screamed back, "IT AIN'T WHUT IT SAYS!"
By this time the PBS bigshot had finished reading the Declaration of Independence. Upon concluding, he was now tellin the audience, "Waal, you may of noticed that the Declaration of Independance does NOT say 'men and woman are created equal,' but if the Founding fathers were here today they probly would of said so."
"YEAH YEAH YEAH, AND BLAH, BLAH BLAH..., Granfather glowered at the screen and chewed his lip.
"AND IF THEY WUZ HERE TODAY, THEY'D SURELY PUT SOMTHIN' IN THAR ABOUT BICYCLE LANES AND MANDATORY RECYCLING, AND OTHER TRENDY ISSUES OF THE DAY, BUT THE HISTORICAL FACT IS THEY DIDN'T.
Darlene said, "Granfather, women can acheive anything a man can!"
"YA'LL CAIN'T PEE STANDIN' UP."
"You just want all women to walk ten feet behind you," she shot back.
"NO DARLENE, NOT ALL WIMMIN, JUST YOU....
...AND, THE ONLY REASON WHY SO'S I CAN DO THIS ," and sudenly he bit down, closed his eyes winced, trembolled a bit and out came an incredible fart. The interesting thing about this was that exactley when it hapenned, Darlene hapenned to indeed be ten feet behind the old basterd. The powor of the explosion pushed the old basterd foward and into this old rustey folding chair that held all the barbeceu sauces. Darlene ducked and its good she did cause a fireball apeared and seemed to move in slow motion because the space-time continuum was ruptured due to the force of Granfather's fart. The sky all around sudenly turned green, just like beffore a twister hits, and a sound enveloped the area like a whiny, groaning, almost Doppler-effect noise of a vacuume cleaner being sudenly unplugged from the wall without being turned off. The fireball tore the top off the brandnew grill as Spike cried, in slow motion in a distourted low voice, "NO-O-O-O-O-O-O!" Then, in complete silence, a giant red hot hole apeared fortey feet away in the side of this small alunimum rake shed at the edge of the yard as the iron grill covor, now reduced to a mass of twisted wreckage shot like a bullet into it. I instantly covored my ears because I knew the sound of the sonic boom woud soon blast the entire area like a small atom bomb. Even though I was 8 feet away from Ground Zero (in this case Granfather's ass) and not even facing it I coud feel my lips and cheeks puff out from my teeth like that famous 1950s black and white picture of that Air Force guy gettin all those G forces sprayed in his face.
The molten mass flew away and thruogh the roof of the shed like a rocket. It sailed straihgt into the air. From where I was standing you can see a portion of the road mabye a mile away from Spike's house where it crests onto this small bluff and five minutes lator, what was left of the top of Spike's new grill reentered the atmosphere in the form of a red fireball leading behind it a smoking stinking trail of greasy black. And this is where it landed with a muffoled clattor.
Heading up my brothor's long driveway and also on the whole drive back home Granfather just muttored to himself over and over.
"HMPH! WIMMEN CAIN'T ACHEIVE WHAT A MAN CAN ACHEIVE," he grumped. "Oh, will you shut up!" Uncle Zeke scolded. Granfather harped back, and, pointing out the car window as we drove past sittin on the edge of the road still smoking the twisted wreckage that his ass wroght, "CAN A WOMAN DO THAT?"
I did not have an answor for the old basterd's question. I woud like to appollogize to my readers for Granfather's views and behaviore. I just report the facts as i see them and I understand that sometimes they are unconfortable to read about.