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The Humilliatingly LATE Update covering Aogust, September and Octobor 2000

Page 36 of 39


Also an alibi: Granfather is very mannipulative

I had a soft spot in my heart for the very softheaded Junior. All poor Junoir lives for is to please Granfather, and earn the old basterd's approvol. In many ways he is the most pittiful person I know. Granfather told me that he convinced Junior to serve as his sworned alibi.

I did not want to Junior go to jail, and Granfather knew I woud never testify agianst Junior -- who now falsely swears that at the time of the Atack, him and Granfather were downloading pornoggrophy off the Internet. Granps knew how I cared for Junior, who he was using as a stooge to protect his own leathory scraggly guilty murdorrous non human, inhuman homocidal warty selfish ass.

Life goes on

Yes and things change. The next day I headed off to my first day at TechnoMeriDigiCom(R). I did not take any time off in between the 2 jobs. I know peopple do that all the time, but I did not. I need the danm money.

Not much of a day

I made a fool of myself a few times but what else is new. I atended a staff meeting that was all dark and mysterrious. Everything there was very opulent. At least three people told me that the big artistic jaggad burnt stainless steel conferrence table cost like, over 20 grand.

This robotic Cyborg was giving a Powerpoint presentattion. I made a fool of myself when I referenced a list of items as "Bullet Points."

Everyone grew silent. A few pompous looking wierdoes who looked like sexless German nihilists made angrey faces and made loud exagerraded exhaling sighs of disapprovol.

"We do not use the violant term, 'bullet points'," I was sternley lectured. "They are called Black Idea Marbles."

Like, ExcUUUUse me.

"While Wearing the Tunic. (R)"

I was issued my Tunic. It is the black and silver knit shirt with the TechnoMeriDigiCom(R) logo that evereyone wears like a uniform. They have this evil Human Recources person, (is any H.R. person evor NOT evil?) who lectured me for 10 minuttes on their danm "While Wearing The Tunic(R)" Business Methodology Principple. Like I said if you are ever out in public wearing the well-reccognized TechnoMeriDigiCom(R) Tunic, you have to be on your best behiavior. They give you ten shirts and will even wash them for you at the office. Also, they have a speciel (very doofy) white shirt for Casual Fridays.

Abusing the Personal Call priviledge on my very first day

After this I went to yet anothor long boring staff meeting. (some things nevor change no mattor where you go). About an hour in, a very mean looking Tunic-wearing H.R. drone entered the poorley lit futuristic conference room. She walked straihgt over to me to tell me there was an emergencey message for me.

Well, this was it. Somone was about to be Declared Dead. Either that, or it was Granfather was callin to holler at me.

The mesage was from Stu. This was strange. He is the last person I woud think would pester me at work, especially my first day. Humiliated, I stood up and left the room to a firing squad of angry glaring stares. I went to my workstation, and called his cellphone back.

"Walter, its about Cathyann," said Stu breathlessly, "She hasnt been seen for 3 days. Never came home, nevor showed up for work..."

My heart started beatin like crazy. Stu went on to tell me the cops and FBI were lookin for her. Oh crap, it hit me imediatly. The back of the walk-in freezer. Her grabbin and kissing me. Me pushing her blubbory body off of me, and her falling away in a spin onto her tubby sweaty ass. And worst of all THE DOOR CLOSING BEHIND ME.

I started to shake allover. Stu's words were a blur and I started to think real real hard. Surely by now she was dead of assfixiation. But yet somhow she had to be found. My small, stupid brain began to work furriously. Without saying goodbye, in a daze I hung up on Stu. What, I asked myself coud I do? Who woud be able to help? The pittifulness of my whole existence welled up within me. There was only one thing I coud do.

I called Tilde.

She picked up on the first ring. I said "Hello Tilde!" as nice as I coud and tried to suppress my nervous panic.

"Yes dear, what do you want," she said distently and aloof. I had thoght I ended it nicer with her, but somhow she was being cool toword me. She was puttin on a tough exterior.

We had no time for this crap: Time to roll out the line of B.S.

"Tilde you are blocking," I said as fast as an auctioneer. "Tilde, I care for you and am sorry I abbandoned you at Cyberblop to improve my life here, " I said quickley. She broke down in grateful tears, which soon turned into anxious tears for the wellbeing of our mutual freind Cathyann.

"Oh, its been so devastating," she blubbored. "I actualy spoke with the FBI!"

I coud hear my heart in my ears. I stammored, "W-w-what did you tell them?"

"I confessed to atending Woodstock back in 1969. I never told you this Walter, and I hope you don't think less of me, but, oh, dear, I was VERY young, and I might as well tell you, but a photo of me apeared in one newspaper, well, relieving myself, and..."

I cut in, "Tilde: Focus, Express and Conclude: The toppic is Cathyann."

"Oh yes, youre right," she said, then boursting into weeps, "That Peaches fellow is so cruel! He said that Cathyann's Missing Persons picture shoud be placed on whiskey bottles.. Boo hoo hoo!"

I said, "Tilde, I believe your pshycic powers can locate Cathyann. I sence that YOU sence someplace cold...."

"I do?"

Yes. Somplace nearby...Somplace where they keep food!

It took me a halfhour

Tilde can be so danm thickheaded. But I finaly convinced her to conjure up in her small toadsized brain the vision of Cathyann layin there inthe freezer. Hard as a rock like one of those woolly mammoths they somtimes discover in the permafrost. And, to my horror (which had not yet sunk quite in), surely dead.

"Oh dear!" she finaly said. "I'll call the FBI imediatly, and tell them to check that back freezer!"

My saddest time is Granfather's happiest

The rest of the day my stomoch twisted and turned in aggony. Had I killed Cathyann? Woud my skinny ass be on the receiving end of a death penalty needle? Oh God, I HATED needles...That night when I got home, me Granfather and Junior were eatin supper while the old basterd was on the phone with a British webcast. He was being interveiwed live on the Web about his Magical Metamucel Island

"WHO WOUD OF THOUGHT THAT SUCH A MIRACLE COUD TAKE PLACE IN TEN MERE FLUID OUNCES OF HUMBLE TEXAS TAP WATER." Granfather is a braggert, and can be a real pompous ass when wants to be.

A close call

Junior sat silently acros the table from me with a giant black eye, even bigger and more swollon than the one I got in the haircutting salon. Granfather had whacked him with the VHS rewindor, and then to further degrade him forced Junior to give him $15 to buy a new one.

It was because of a Close Call regarding the magicol Island: Granfather had got it into his small evil head that if the island of floating dry powder was somhow shaped like a saint or something, it woud add to its miracullous cachet.

We are not Roman Catholic howevor but Prottestant Texans so no better figure coud the Metamucil take than than that of Lyndon Johnson. Granfather, cheating basterd that he is, worked and sculpted the Island all day, dabbing and raking sweeps of the topmost layer of dry powder over its sub-layer of moist powdor.

Junior sneezed just as the old basterd was putting the final touches on the Thirtey-Sixth President's huge bulbous nose. As a result one of LBJ's enormous ear lobes broke loose, and fluttored slowly down to the bottom of the glass.

"HEY! HEY! LBJ!," Granfather howled, "MAKE YER DAGNAB EARLOBE FLOAT BACK UP HERE!