The world fammous

Walter Miller's Homepage(TM)

Your self-guided mega-portal to misspelled toilet humor and Internet culture.

The Humilliatingly LATE Update covering Aogust, September and Octobor 2000

Page 32 of 39


Thankfuly I did not have to pull the prank the Boss wanted me to, becuase by the time Peaches got the danm window open we were back at the hotel. Bouvard told us to tak the rest of the afternoon off.

I spent the rest of the day in the hotel room responding to my email. There were a whole lot of angry, pissed emails going back and fourth about who was going to pay for Uncle Will's and Uncle Zeke's funerols, being that both were expected to die. Complicatting matters was Granfather's abrupt anouncement that he woud be taking possession of all of his brothers' colectibles. This was causing allot of legal problems. But what else is new in our family?

Anothor phone message

Of all people, the County Clerk called me in the hotel. (How did he find me? He called my office at Cyberblop, heard my phonemail that said I was not there, pressed Zero and Pound to get the company dirrectory and got a hold of GUESS WHO TILDE who friggin told him I was in the L.A. Airport Mariott.)

The County Clerk was very angrey with me because I left on a business trip leaving Granfather in his county "unattended and unsuporvised." Also, the old basterd, it seems not only ate the County Clerk's mother's cat on the County Green, he thretenned to do what he did to Dr. Blankenship, that is, sink his rabid fangs into the County Clerk's ass cheek right on the County Courthuose Steps. The Clerk was screammin at me over the phone that this is a direct threat of Bodilly Harm which is punishable by law. Usualy I get impatient with the County Clerk and his ranting agianst the old basterd. But on this day I generously alowed him to use me as a sounding board. Yes the poor man is undor allot of pressure. The man's mother is allmost as mean and nasty as Granfather, and I coud tell from his screamin that the old hag must of been riding his ass all day.

That night I coud not sleep. There was allot of extra loud awful noises comin from the next room.

Walter Miller's(tm) Rule of Business Travel #1

As is always my lot in life, whenever I am travolling for either business or pleasure, be it a five-star resort or ten-dollar dive, the people in the ajoining room closest to where my head lays in the bed, will under all circomstances and conditions most certianly be having sex. I canot change that rule. It is just the way it works out.

Somthing sounded familior: One of the voices. Coud it be? Oh yes. Oh no. Oh God. It was Stu.

I'd forgottan he was in the room next to me. The sounds. The noises. If there was somthing, anything, any event in this life that coud really psychollogicaly damage your...
...You know what? I am not going to go into details. There are some things in this world that belong private between consenting addults and behind locked doors. Or the locked gate of the barnyard. Or The Discovery Channel or else in some sort of secret Govorment interspecies breeding lab somewhere in the Nevada desert.

Oh crap

The noises got loudor. The fake painting of a villa in Tuscany above my bed's headboard flew off the wall, bounced off my chest and toppoled onto the carpet--and it had been bolted on for Godsake.

There was the sound of laughing, Stu laughin,and somone else. The someone else...It sounded familor. The smooth strains of Bobby Darrin on Stu's CD as well as amourous giggles and the clink of wineglasses mixed with the othor horrobly ghastly things I heard.

I shut my eyes. I thought hard, very hard. Then it hit me. I opened my eyes in a hard staire glaring at the ceiling. Oh my God.

I leaped out of bed and still in my sweatpants ran out the door and into the hall and almost twisted my ankel as I wheeled to practicaly throw myself agianst Stu's room door.

"OPEN UP!!" I screammed, pounding my fists on it hard. "Now! Now! Open up!!" There was a faint feminnine shreik from within. The door unlocked and swung hard open bouncing to its three inch limit where the security latch restrained it. Stu's face, bright pink and looking sort of burnt peered out. His hair was mussed up, he was sweatting and breathing very very heavily, and patches of lipstick splotched his snout, which, at its flat round end that poked thru the crack in the door out into in the hallway pulsated wildly, as the two oval nostrills on its wrinkled stump opened and closed rapidly to gulp and expel air.

"Walter, what the hell is going on," he whispored horsely.

"Get her out of here!" I screamed. It was one of the womon I was talking to at the bus stop bench. She was rapidly throwin her clothes on and had an evil look in her eye. She did not seem shocked or suprized.

"I'm out of here," she snapped, and then shot me a smile as she pushed her way past Stu.

The next thing I saw was so horroble that I am now emotionaly scarred for life.

What I saw was Stu almost nakad. I wrote before about what his tits or shoud I say "teats" looks like.

Well, now there was almost ALL of Stu revealed, and it was more ghastley than ever. His whole body was pale and white in comparrison to his sunburned head and neck, which were burned as pink as spareribs from the Palm Springs sun. And right now he was almost buck ass nakad, exept for black Speedo underwear -- Yes he was wearin a Speedo, oh, how teribble. It was 2 sizes too small atleast, and incomprohensibly tight. His giant lardy belly hung over the waistband.

The only way i can describe it

Under his big round belly, the only way I can discribe the Speedos, (the only portion of them visible within the flabbey folds) would be to say that it looked like an inconceivably small piece of black fabric, unimaginabley stretched over a ten pound hanging sack of antique brass doorknobs.

It revulsed me, the very sight of him in near nakadness. I know he cannot help it. He is such a nice guy. But I had to run to the toilet, and I did, and I barfed and barfed and

barfed and barfed and barfed.