Walter Miller's Homepage

Hopefully soon i will be as much a loser in othor media as well

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

Page 12 of 24


Then the Lady Who Screams at Everyone practically dragged me by the arm to the conceirge and made me stand there lookin at the floor with a sad houmiliated look on my face while she screammed and hollored at me while the conseirge got on the phone and ordered me a rental car on her Cyberblop AMEX Card, (with no advance reservation, so it probly cost allot.)

I drive the little twits home

So had to leave my crappy car in the hotel parking lot. And the Lady Who Screams at Everyone told me that I was NOT gonna get a day off work the folowing day to return the car. She said that I was expectad in work the next day -- That after I dropped the kids off, I had to drive the rental car all the way BACK to the hotel, (five hours drive), drop it off at the hotel, and then drive back 5 more hours get in my own danm car. I was more Pisod off than you can beleive.

Suprisingly the kids slept in the car the whole way back. I kept hoping there was some sort of lucky mild exaust leak that was somhow seeping into the passengor area to sedate them. If i was REAL lucky it woud destroy part of there brains. Also the weathor was perfict so we didnt even USE the danm air conditoning.

Somthing was strange when I got home

I just had a funny feeling somthing was not right. One of the dogs was howling in a funny way. It was the dog whose name is "Drive By." Granfather as you know has fourteen skinny dogs. There is no more misorable existence than being the old basterd's pet.

I walked in the front door of the trailor and saw the evil monster calmly watchin TV. He seemed to be talkin on the portoble phone. The TV was very loud and he did not see me come in.

"What is going on?" I said.

NOTHIN', BWAH," he spat, and tried to hide the phone in his ripped and stringy cotton wifebeater.

I coud tell somthing wasnt right. I glanced at the phone console.

"ALLRIGHT, BOY, YUH COUGHT ME. I WAS TRYIN TO CALL ONE O'THEM (900) NUMBERS.

"RIGHT NOW SOME UGLY OLD HAG IN A POLY-BLEND PANTSUIT IS PRETENDING TO BE SOME 18 YEAR OLD BIKINI GAL, BUT I JUST GOT CUT OFF 'CAUSE YOU WUZ SMART ENOUGH TO BLOCK THEM (900) NUMBERS..."

I didnt let him finish his sentence. We have Caller ID and the numbor on the phone console was not a (900) number but a local call, from our town.

Sencing somthing was very, VERY wrong I quickley ran out of the trailor. The old basterd's lemon yellow eyes darted toword me, the bright red pupils flashing with a slightley panicked look on his face as I left.

Outside in the yard there was an odd stillness. I looked all arround but didnt see nothin diferent. Drive By contineud to whimpor and howl.

Up on the roof

It was one of the strangest things I ever encountored. A man with a red sandy colored beard was up on our trailer roof. He was squatting up on the corner, near the satelite dish. He stared at me with a pensive look. Yes we somtimes get tourists and curiousity seekors who have tracked us down and who come by hoaping to catch a glance, (if not a whiff) of the whiffy old basterd. Every once in a while amatuer mystery creature hunters show up with cameras and radio collers and such. (Europeans and Australians and particulorly enamored of studying the basterd lately. The way it ends up everyone usualy runs screaming from the place in fear. That's how horroble Granfather is.)

Yet he looked oddly familior. I knew this man.

I was all about to tell the guy he was trespassing and to please leave when I noticed that he was our next door neighber. When I say nextdoor I mean he is a halfmile away. I have wrote about this man beffore. He sort of looks like a younger versien of The Frugol Gourmet.

He has sued Granfather in the past for varrious things like shooting potato cannons at his house, leaving a lit bag of dogdoo on his front porch on Holoween but most of all for one repeated incodent where the old basterd purposelly ruined one of the man's businesses that he had a big investment in.

The man with the red sandy beard and his wife used to raise and sell very expensive tropicol birds, the type that will mimic words and sounds that are reppeated to them allot. Granfather made a numbor of the birds unsaleable because when the man and his wife were at work the old basterd called their answoring machine and made loud belches and farts and these awfull throat clearring noises in the phone over and over on purpose. The birds learned to mimic the noises and the noises were SO DISGOSTING that even the zoos didnt want the danm animals for free. Think abuot it: Who the hell wants a tropicol bird who sounds like Granfather?

Later on the sheriff told me that one of the State Rangers told him in the cafe in town that if they didnt happen to be endangored birds they probly woud of been destroyed.

Anyway it was weird to see this man here because he's never been ovor our house even though he's our neighber. We just stared at eachothor for a few seconds. He was holding a cellulor phone.

I asked him what he was doin there and also said that I didnt have nothin agianst him personally but Granfather hated his guts and if the old basterd knew he was on our roof things might turn out very badly for him.

Before he coud answor I heard Granfather's voice crackol over the cell phone, which he held in his hand: "EIGHT'O CLOCK; TURN THE SUMBITCH NORTH. SHE'S NEKKID, BUT SHE'S STILL FUZZY."

And then I said, "OK what the hell is goin on."

The man with the sandey beard told me in a very nervous voice that he was "helping out" Granfather. I found out exactley what it was, too: He was up on the roof tryin to reposition the satelite dish so Granfather coud get the pornogrophey channels on cable.

I stourm inside the house to confront him

Granfather was in a haughtey mood and pretended nothin was wrong. I scolded him and said that he was in big troubel. I asked where Junior was and he said that Junoir left to go home which I knew was a lie cause his car was still there in front of our house.

"ALLRIGHT, I'LL TELL YUH. I DONE OFFERED THE FRUGOL GORMET A HUNNERT BUCKS TO HEPP ME GET PLAYBOY AND SKINAMAX BACK.

"AND ALSO THE SPICE CHANNEL.

"HELL, AND DON'T FERGIT SPICE 2."

Well I didnot beleive the old basterd and so I ran outside to get the REAL story and when I did the poor neighbor with the sandy beard who to my shame nevor so much as was ever invited ovor our house for a lousy neighborly cup of cofee but who our family instead shared a docket with down at the courthuose at least 3 times since 1987 just bursted out crying.

Granfather knows that the man is good with electronics -- betor than Junior too, and that he coud undo the restrictions on the satelite dish that Junior did.

He told me that Granfather called him up and thretenned to hide under his porch and bite his leg and give him rabies if he didnt come ovor and help him ajjust the satelite dish. When the man refused Granfather said he was goingto blackmail him cause he heard the man and his wife foolin arround like married people do (you know) on the baby monnitor and the old basterd picked it up off his police radio and he recorded it.

Also the man said that when he showed up on our property, (for the first time ever,) Granfather atacked and overpowered him.

A silent pause went by as the old basterd, having been listening from inside the house on the telephone that the sandy bearded man still held in his hand finaly piped up ovor the phone so I coud hear, "I DONE TOLD HIM I'D POST THE RECORDING ON THE WEB IF HE DIDN'T HEPP ME. THE FIRST AMENDMENT SAYS I'M ALLOWED TO, TOO."

I said to our neighber, "You can go home now, sir," and he told me I CAN'T I'M STUCK and he added that he was not aloud to leave until the softcoreporn cable channols were restored by his forced fiddoling of the satelite dish because it turns out (and I apologize because this is gross) but the old basterd had atached one end of a looping 3/16" seven-ply-steel-and-polyvinal-shanked Computer Workstation securitty cable to the lightning rod next to the airvent of the trailor roof and the opposite end threaded directly and firmly but thankfulley not too tightly arround on the red sandy bearded neighber who looks like the Frugol Guormet exept a younger version's nuts.

Monstrous evil beast