Walter Miller's Homepage

I Am Not Spock.
(What I mean is, like, I can write other stuff too you know).

the Last of 1999 and First of 2000 Big Ass Multi-Update

Page 4 of 24


Disgousting versus Evil: Anothor true inponderable. I'd always thoght that if Granfather ever went to Hell, where sureley he is headed he'd probly end up gettin throwed out. (Either for startin a ruckus, or else for his offensive smell: Yet anothor unsolvable inpondorable.)

We sat there gasping but wordless in the slowley clearing corrosive brown smoke and settoling dust. Finaly I said to him, "Granfather, I know you are hurting. It is somtimes hard to say, but I want you to hear it: I love you."

Granfather stopped for a momment and slowly in the rearveiw mirror I saw him stair at me in wondor. He licked his brown lips, the color, texture and slimey surface of which were identicol to the underbellies of giant Vancouvor tree slugs.

"YOU SISSY WILTING PRISSY PANSY OF A MAN," he seethed at me.

And then he started in agian bucking and thrashing. He was screammin like a maniac.

"I will have to slap you in the Caddy," I said to him, but he kept on bouncing and bangin on the cardoors.

"I AIN'T GITTIN IN NO CADDY."

"My Othor Car is a Pet Carrier"

I went outside and opened the trunk. Inside there we kept a collapsible custom made item we call in my family the "Gramp Caddy." It consists of sevoral panels of heavy masonite wrapped in brown vinyl which attaches togethor into a large cage (which the brochure calls a "Secure Portoble Enclosure") that when opened up fits on the backseat. It has a locking hinged door, steel weave window, water and nutrition bottols and a plastic pottey to crap in thuogh he never uses it and the whole thing must be hosed off.

The Secure Portoble Enclosure a.k.a. 'Gramp Caddy' is demeaning but humaine. Its not like its a danm hot sweatty margarine tub with holes popped in the top like you put a caterpillor in. There's a pissy but confortable rug inside for the old basterd to curl up on.

I dragged it to the shouldor of the freeway and began to set it up. It took about 5 minits. By that time, Granfather's face changed from angry to sad. The old basterd peered at me out of the jaggad hole of the window he'd just blowed out from air from his butt.

"YEP, I RECKON I'D HAVE TO AGREE WITH YOU BWAH," he said slowley, and perhaps with a twinge of shame.

"I'M IN AN ORNERY WAY TODAY. YOU'D BETTER GO ON AN' SLAP MAH SCRAGGLY ASS IN THET THAR GRANP CADDY."

We drove on for a few minuttes in silence. Granfather is very concious that he is an uncontrolloble pain in the ass. Perhaps this fact is what is most frightning and disturbing of all.

After a breif nap, he started riding my ass again.

"ONE DAY A FEW YEARS FROM NOW WE'LL LOOK BACK ON TODAY AN' HAVE A BIG LAUGH ABOUT IT.

'COURSE I'LL PROBLY FART AGINN AND YOU'LL WRECK THE CAR BY DRIVIN' UNDER SOME SEMI TRUCK IN FRONT OF YOU THET YOU DON'T SEE.

"IN WHICH CASE I'LL LAUGH MAH ASS OFF AGINN WHEN I SEE THE TAILGATE DONE LOP YER UGLY HEAD OFF."

A messege from Dad

When we got back to the house there was alreadey a message on the answoring machene. It was my Dad, who lives in California. The doctor had sent him a 47 page fax that filled him in on the ghastley details of the old basterd's new medicol discovories. (By the way Medicaid does not pay for 47 page faxes)

I called Dad back, and put him on speakorphone while me and the old basterd sat at the kitchon table. Aftor exchanging pleasentries, (in the case of Granfather, cruel insults to us both), Granfather excused himself.

He said, "IF Y'ALL GENTLEMEN WILL EXCUSE ME, I HAFTO GO SPEAK TO A MAN ABOUT A DAWG."

This is an old Texas phraise which realy means, "I hafto go pee." Like a sparkling glimmor of life where you dont expect it, (in the case of Granfather, a wiggling maggot on a peice of rancid meat), somthing deep inside Granfather still causes a tiny bit of courtly, genteel old-fashoned Southwestern politeness to breifly emerge to rear its tiny brainless head.

Once the old basterd was out of the room, Dad spoke freely. He told me that Granfather was sick, very sick, both mentaly and phisically.

"Damn, Dad, tell me somthin I DON'T know."

Dad said, "Don't be a smartmouth son," and then also explianed that it was up to me and him to save him, becuase the rest of our family hated his guts and will just as well let him die.

A new digestive scheduole

As Granfather sang the theme to Friends loudley and off key from inside the bathroom, and puorposely missing the bowl as he peed, (as usuol, in the full knowlegde that I will have to clean it up), Dad filled me in on speciffics.

He said that not only was the old basterd's lustfull depravitty a risk to his pulmonery system, his intestinol artillery was even more dangerrous.

"Listen to me son: Granfather is not just a risk to himself, but to you, and the whole county. At least people in a six mile radius. I've gone over the numbers..."

My father is a prety smart guy and he was in both the aerospace and computor industries.

"...If he does not control himself," Dad said severely, "Granfather can actualy expload."

Well that was it. The old basterd was not suposed to exert his seismic digestive systam. Insted hed have to try to have a crapping schedual to be as close to that of a human as possible. This was to try to avoid the sitauation we had at the doctor's office. Proof of which was in the form of a porcelain-destroying turd sittin in a lead lined bag and suitcase in the trunk of my car. You shoud remmember this from my last Update, which now seems so far in the past.

Also Dad said that the old basterd was to up his dosege from two to three doses of Metamucil. Also, he woud be FexEx'ing me some new medicone, which I was instructad to hide in his fried cheese. They were specially made tablets of testosterone inhibitors, (to lower sex drive), as well as "AgroIndustrial Beano(R) Concentrate", (which is curently being develloped in conjunction with NASA for a planned flight involving the transport of cattle to the Internationol Space Station in 2009. (It seems that cows farting in space will depleat the air up there as bad as the Ozone Layor down here).

If not death by explosion, if Granfather's pulmonery system got pumping very hard due to any type of exertion, it was posible that he coud instantly die, in flagrante.

(And if you dont know what "in flagrante" means i am not goingto explain it.)

Also my familly was not insured agianst toxic peices of the old basterd flying arround in smithereens across the county.

A big conferrence call is schedouled

Dad wanted me to buy the latest version of Net Nanny and put it on the old basterd's computor so as to keep him off of objectionoble web content. Dad also said that he wanted to get me, him, Granfather, and Granfather's doctors on a conferrence call to discuss the new treatmant.

Also Junior, our neighbor was suposed to be in on the phonecall.

Poor Junoir

Junoir is a freind of the family, and mentally speaking, not what you woud call the sharpest knife in the drawer. Howevor, he knows how to fiddel with the cable box so Granfather wont be able to get channols like Playboy, Cinemax and especialy Spice. Oh yeah, also Spice2.

Anyway, Junoir was hesitant to help us because he is afraid of 'betraying' Granfather. He is frightenned of Granfather. Dad promised him $40 if he woud fix our cable box.

Atending this conference call meant that I had to get time off of work.
And once agian my pain in the ass toadfaced boss coudnt just give me her permision by email.