It's not for everyone.
Page 23 of 24
"THET WERE A FUN FUNEROL," Granfather said cheerfuly, "WHICH ONE WERE DUWAYNE AGINN? WERE HE EVER AT OUR HOUSE? 'CAUSE I DON'T REMEMBER."
Cathyann put her head on Granfather (Yuck, and she wasnt even drunk), and said, "Grampy, me and Momma was thinking; can we have Christmas together?"
"SURE BABY," he said.
Christmas was only a few days away.
"DIDJA HEAR THAT BWAH?" Granfather said harshly.
"WHEN WE GIT HOME, PULL THET BIG WOODEN OL' PHONE COMPANY WIRE SPOOL TABLE OUT O'THE BARN. WE'LL HAVE TO FIT SOME EXTRA ASSES FER HOLIDAY SUPPER."
Cyberblop has re-orgs all the time. They are all suposed to be a big secret, but I think they secretly leak word of them out before hand. I think they do this to squeeze a few more days of frantic work out of people before they downsize their asses.
The next day when I get to work I run into Stu in the kitchonette.
He filled me in on the re-org. Stu knows everyone and everything at Cyberblop. Plus he allways seems to find out in advance who is on The List -- 'The List' being the peoplle who are goingto get fired. He may have the face of a pig but hes the only one there with a brain. Not only that, best of all I coud allways count on Stu to save my ass.
"It looks like you're slated to get canned, but don't sweat it," Stu told me.
"Tony in Human Resources owes me a favor; I saw the name 'W. Miller' on The List. I'll pull some strings, and make sure someone else gets canned instead. There's another 'W. Miller' in the Chicago office, Wanda or Wilma."
"I know nothing," I said in my German acented Sergeant Shultz voice.
All of this was Stu's idea. I woud never, ever cause somone to get fired insted of me. Howevor, I certinly woudnt stop it from hapenning if it woud save my ass. Cyberblop also hapened to be a very unfeeling company. More than once they layed off the wrong person due to mistakon identity, or else fired someone to save his boss, when the boss screws up. I used to feel guiltey about it but no more.
Stu contineud, "There's also Charlie in the mailroom. Remember, he has that Employee I.D. that's one digit different than yours."
"Charlie lost his job Second Quartor," I said.
"Oh yeah," said Stu, "Wonder how that hapened."
"So," said Stu, quickly changin the subject, "What are you doing for the holidays?"
I told him that I was gointo be at home with Granfather and also Cathyann and her mother and Junoir. I told him what hapened with poor Duwaine dying, and his tiny piggish eyes opened wide as his face brightenned.
"Oh her, from your town. Mmm! You mean she's, eh, single?"
Then all of a sudden I hear a shreak. We both turn around and there is my Boss standing there.
"I'm outta here," Stu whispors and then he sudenly vanishes out of the room. Stu is sucesfull here at Cyberblop probly because he avoids losers like my boss.
"Oh, dear!" she said to me, sounding very worried.
"Um, what is the mattor?" I said.
But i knew it was somthing. From one mushy hearted co-deppendent to the other, I knew somthin was wrong.
"Oh, WHEL-ter," she blurtad out, "I have nowhere to go for Christmas. Oh, boo-hoo-hoo!"
My anoying boss started bawlin like a small child. Just the sight of it made a lump rise in my throahgt. She gave me the whole story about how this guy she was dating called it quits, and they had plans for Christmas. Now she didnt know no one else to go, becuase, quote, "Everyone at work hates me!"
"I have a big mouth!" she sniffoled, and then she started to cry and blubbored.
"I mean well! I just want to help others! Boo Hoo Hoo!"
She wanted to hug me but I drew the line there. Damn, she must of been real desperrate. Not only to be willing to come to our house, but to be willing to come BACK to our house, aftor what hapened last time she was there.
She said, "Oh, THANK you Whel-ter," and then she pulled me down so she coud give me a kiss but I am very tall and shes very short so she got me on the collor instead at the very bottom of my neck and planted a wet disgousting one there. All day it felt like somone hacked a lunger on me.
"LISSEN TO THIS, BWAH: PETER JENNINGS SAYS HE'S GONNA STAY AWAKE ON NEW YEARS EVE FER 30 STRAIGHT HOURS.
"HE'S GONNA SMELL NEAR AS NASTY AS ME BY THE END."
I asked the old basterd if my boss coud come over for Christmas and he said, "FINE, AND BEING HOW DESPERATE I AM SHE'S WELCOME TO PRANCE NEKKID AROUND THE HOUSE IN THET THAR BATH TOWEL TOO."
The female Al Franken lookalike deadpanned to me, "There's some humor in that statement, but I don't know where."
Granfather also told me that he just got off the phone with my Dad and him and my stepmothor were comin to Texas for Christmas too.
"THE MORE WARM BODIES BETWEEN ME AND THET DUMBASS BROTHER O'YOURS, THE BETTER."
Like i said, Granfather hates my brothor and his wife.
"So Walt," he said, "How's the scrotum?"
"What the hell are you talkin about, Stu? You can see my scrotum from there?"
Stu is one of these 'Look Ma, No Hands' guys who stands ten feet away from the urinal with his hands on his hips and pees in a giant arc. And insted of hittin the smooth porcelin sides of the urinol, (like most guys do), so the liqiud can dribbol down silently, he aims for the centor part of the cup drain at the bottom of the fixture as to make a big frothy presentation of loud bubbles.
He does it on purpose. He never spills a drop. It's a marketing thing.
"Walt, I heard your boss say something about your scrotum," he contineud with a suddon fart, which caused a blip in the streaming loop of urine similor to when you are whippin arround the garden hose in the yard. But Stu is an expurt and so the streaming topaz arc quickley righted itself back into position with no risiduol spray escaping.
"Over in the kitchenette, there were six, seven of us in there," Stu continued.
"Your boss was telling us that Grandpa's friend Junior told her when she was at your house that your nuts got zapped with some powerline juice, or radiation or something, and your scrotum's now the size of a peppercorn and twice as dark."
I cleanned myself up and went to find her. I walked down the hall very very mad. Aparently i was not the only one mad. I passed by the desk of the Female version of Prince Charles Exept She Is Evil and for some reasen she stood silently by while the Generol Manager was seated at her desk, hollering at her computer with his florrid crimson jowls wobboling as he bellowed, "IT SAYS 'PRESS ANY KEY,' DAMMIT.
"WHICH ONE IS THE 'ANY' KEY?"
The evil Windsor mirage replied firmly, "I dont work here: I'm a consultant."
I went straihgt to the kitchenete and saw my anoying pain in the ass boss seated at her regulor seat. Even before I saw her I knew she was there becuase from down the hall I coud hear the savage gnawing crunching sound of her eating those frozon diet chocolate bars she keeps in the freezer. This canott be good for your teeth. We dont realy have good teeth in our family, (exept Granfather who has the biologicol eqiuvalent of carniverous Albertasaurus fangs), and the dentist once told me that chewing ice does the same thing to your teeth as chewin rocks.
This woman was crunching her teeth a mile a minute and talking two milles a minute.
"Oh, WHEL-ter!" she worbled, (and I must say, sayin it while SPRAYIN it.
"I'm so happy to be coming over for the holidays! Christmas Eve AND Christmas day, right? And Millenium Eve too? Oh, I promise not to get in the way! Why, I'll even sit at the rickety card table with the children. And I'll cook my Miracle Whip Fish Patties, they're a holiday speciel from Illinois!"
She is so dumb. She is from Ilinois but she does not even pronnounce the "s" at the end of 'Illinois.' Well, mabye your not suposed to anyway. I forget.
The anger seethed and rose within me. Like i said the danm woman has a toadlike face. Specificaly, that of a Kalahari spadefoot toad, the type that remains unbreathing five feet down in the packed mud of the dryed out riverbed during times of drought for up to two years, hibornating. This type of toad is an extremeley toadlike toad, with exagorrated toadish facial features: even for a toad....SO toadlike, to the point that you figure that the more delicate lookin toads, (perhaps the Brown American Swamp variety and the Guyanese Greentree Toad), probly look at THIS feller staring back at them thruogh the glass at the Exibit of Worldwide Toads at the Reptile House of the zoo, (suposing toads ever HAD such thoghts), and say to one anothor, out of earshot of the Spadefoot, (not that toads HAVE ears), "My God: Thats one big honkin' ass toad-lookin-toad-faced toad."
And take it from me, the way she smears the muddy makeup on, well imagin Mr. Spadefoot once agian, but this time with half the riverbed caked on his (I mean her) danm face for 2 years.
"I'm feeling so wonderful!" she says in her chirpy pain in the ass voice in between stony flinty crunches.
"SOOO wonderful, that I'm back on my diet! I'm back eating my diet chocolate bars!
"WHEL-ter: I've found a reason to LIVE again! It's like a Christmas miracle!
So I sat there and listened to her yak on and on about her whole life while she shattored away at her rock hard breakfest like an icicle in a woodchipper.