We have no shame. (or profits.)
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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.
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.
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.
"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.
"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...."
Yes. Somplace nearby...Somplace where they keep food!
"Oh dear!" she finaly said. "I'll call the FBI imediatly, and tell them to check that back freezer!"
"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.
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.