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The Big Triple Update for May-June-July 2000

Page 5 of 26


Oh man I thoght he was DEAD

Cathyann said "You remember my boyfriend, right?" By the time I stopped screamin, Habib, the guy behind the countor at the Mini Mart told me please control my noise in his store. But I coud not help it. It was Duwayne, Cathyann's boyfreind who was DESEASED a coupel of months ago. Yes, I saw him die too. I almost crapped in my pants when I saw him. He said "Howdy, I'm DuWayne, but the other one: Not the one whut died back when."

You thoght this was the DuWayne who died? BWAH-HAHHAH!!", Cathyann laughed horsely, "That was the OTHER Duwayne."

I did seem to remember two of them, or mabye more, perhaps brothers, or cousins. It was one of those weird Larry-Darryl-and my othor-brother-Darryl sort of thing. They all looked identicol. Also they all dated Cathyann.

"The only one in the danm family I done ain't yet gone out with is the danm DAWG!" she said, "BWAHHAHA!"

When I arrived home I coud tell somthing was wrong.

An odd, stale, rancid smell, (as oposed to a raw, gamey, fresh-poop sort of smell) filled the trailor. This meant only one thing. Granfather was not here. I went outside and folowed my nose. Also the dogs were sort of howling. Finaly i saw. There was the old basterd sittin out in the yard.

Silentley he sat on a cheap folding chair. With a quiet grimmace on his face he strained and grunted. No he wasnt trying to poo. It was somthing else, almost as horroble and ghastly.

Granfather's Special Peculoir Time of the Year

Yes folks spring has sprung. If you've been reading my website for any period of time you will know that springtime is an unusuol time for the old basterd. His body goes through allot of odd changes. Granfather is anothor species: not human. No one knows what speceis he is because he is the only one in the world.

Questions sceince has been trying to answor about him

Is it a viper? He molts his skin like any reptile, has a forked tounge, plus true iguanalike eyes with diamond shape pupils and a third eyelid. Yet the grizly monster has nipples like a mammal. (And he has more than two. Please dont make me discribe it).

Is it a giant cockroach? As with all insects, Granfather has superhuman strenth for his size, a chitinous exoskeleton, and no circulotory system or veins--insted, green mucky goop similor to squashed bug guts sloshes about large thoracic voids and sinuses in his chest. Plus the old basterd has only four limbs, insted of the insect standard of six; (well, four visible anyway).

Is it a monkey? And while he, (or "it)" has superhuman intelligence (yet strictly for purposes of evil), Granfather's brain is small, rudimentery in appearance, lemur-like and decidedly pre-simian in developmeant.

(Technicaly, "proto-simian," if you are into studying fossil records of early primate cranial chambors; as far as craniol chambers, an average potato, baked, then overly dried, might fit into his.)

Also he acts like a danm monkey. Granfather's personallity and physicol movements vary little from that of an angry, cornered gibbon with rabies. (And I wont even even go into the hyperactive autoerotticism.)

Is it a plant? This one is a longshot. Its the only one I can truly say "no" to, however I include it because the majority of the weight of the skinny basterd is often comprised of various fungal and vegetative life. Thereby making the total cumulative basterd mostly plant.

You wanna know what I truly think? I think its a danm alien. Not the intelligent type who can pilot a flying saucer eithor, but instead some sort of animal pet or beast that belonged to an inteligent alien. One who was intelligent enough to drop the old basterd here on earth and get the hell away.

But today, howevor...Well, today he was realy out of sorts. Like I said, he was grunting, and forcing somthing. And his effarts were rewarded, as somthing appeared to be moving, pulsating almost, on the top of his head.

A sickening, yet synchronous simbyosis

You are never alone with Granfather. There are funguses, lichens and even grassy things growing on him. Its not a scalp. Its an ecosystem. Where, when you look at him a normol reaction is to scream, so I guess you cann call it an "EEK!"-O-System. Also, while I refer to him often as "The old basterd", he realy is not old. Granfather's species lives much longer than ours. Though he is well into his sixties, the sceintists who study him feel that he is barely out of adolessence.

These plantlike growths do appear on his feet, betwean his toes, armpits and other dark, moist, (dont ask) areas. But they also grow on his scalp and head. Especialy on his head.

Quivoring and shuddering, the left side of his head began to throb and pulsaite more. Granfather turned to me.

"BOY. GO INSIDE THE HOUSE," he said to me very severely.

"UNDER MAH BED IS THAT IRON BOX. YOU ARE TO BURY IT VERY DEEP IN THE DIRT FLOOR OF THE HATCHERY."

I said to him, "There is no way in HELL I am doing THAT."

Our hatchery in case you dont know is a small cinder block house with a chicken wire floor and below that atleast ten feet deep of chickan crap. It hasnt been cleaned in ages. I told you the old basterd saves everything.

"YOU WILL OBEY ME, BWAH."

I replied, "You may kiss my ass, sir."

In a slow deliberrate voice, Granfather threatens me

Granfather said that I was to obey him or else he'd drive me head first through the biggest-ass old Quisinart Machine he can find in the old leaning shed out back where he keeps old busted appliances. Untill I was the dismembored consistency of a snow cone, which he woud then load into a coupel of five gallon green plastic McDonalds pickel pails, and then, just like what happened to to Big Pussey on the season finale of The Sopranos Granfather said he'd pour all my peices over in the reservoir to feed the catfish.

So I imediatly did what he asked me. Because you never know when the old basterd is bluffing.

"HURRY IT UP, BOY," he hollared at me from outside while I was in his room.

"MAH BROTHERS IS COMING IN FROM THE EAST COAST, AND I DON'T WANTS THEM TO STEAL MAH TREASURES."

I must say what it looks and smells like undorneath Granfather's bed is probly just as gross as what you may find in the poultry hatchery. I dragged out his "iron box" which was realy one of those cheap masonite kid's footlockers. I doubel bagged it in Hefty bags then dragged it outside.

Granfather coud not see what I was doing inside the hatchery, so I sort of cheated on his direct orders. Insted of burying it "very deep" like he said I merely scraped away ten inches or so of the sopping wet black stuff till I hit the exact borderline of where the semi-moist brown stuff meets the mostly dry reddish stuff. (I know more about barnyard poo than most people in the internet industry do.)

Yes, raw chicken waste smells prety awful especialy in a closed room. But I tell you it is like heavily inhailing in a field of blooming honeysuckles compared to even the most fleeting whiff of GRANFATHER.

I am on an Introductery Cellphone offer

OK, I know I said some prety strong things about celphones before. I might as well admit it: I am on a trial membership. At least I was back when this stuff I am writing about hapened. I have since cancelled. The cellphone in my pocket rang and I answored it. It was the psycho biker chick. And boy was she pissed.

I said to her, "Right now I am in the hatchery shovolling hen poop."

She said, quite pissed, that if we were ever to have a rellationship --"DUH!" -- we have to have one where we actualy MEET with each other: "Hell-LOOO!"

Boy if there is one thing I canot stand it is when peple say to you: "DUH!" and also, "Hell-LOOO!"

Like I said the psycho biker chick keeps dropping by the house and also calling me. Plus she showed up a few times at my job. I tried to make her go away but it did not do any good.

I am weak

Weak, first of all for givin her my danm cell number. Weak a second time because I agreed to go out with her on a second date. But only cause she wore me down.

She asked me, "What I was doin Friday night." Then Satorday night. The Sunday night. It was all in rappid fire. It just woud not end. I kept tryin to make up excuses but I ran out. But she woud not quit. Sort of like this:

"What about next Friday?"

"I'm busy."

"What are you doin Satuday?"

"Hafta bathe Granfather."

"What are you doin Sunday?"

"Hafta update my website."

"How 'bout Monday night?"

"Jay Leno's 'Headlines.' Cant miss it."

"How 'bout Tuesday night?"

"Hafta bathe Granfather again."

"How 'bout Wendsday night?"

"Encore peformance of the '90210' series finale."

"How 'bout Thursday night?"

"Must-See TV on NBC."

"Friday after that?"

"Herpes support group."

"Saturday after that?"

"Halitosis clinical trials."

"Sunday after that?"

"Elective castrattion surgery in anticipation of alien starship."

"Monday after that?"

"Alien starship arives at designated coordinates."

"That's a Monday. What about Leno's 'Headlines?'"

"Its a rerun."

Anyway she got me on a monday night. Which was prety awful since that is one of the days I work. This meant i had to rush home to get changed and everything. I am an idiot for agreeing to go out with her in the first place, but, well, on a Monday I am especialy stupid.

Also, she is not only pushy she also does sonmthing that always pisses me off: She has to always say that she is NOT atracted to me. She thinks that me and her "connected" with some sort of emotionol chord when I cried after listening to her music in my last update. This is the only reason she is goin out with me.

Oh, that's just great. Imagine if a guy ever tried that: "You are ugly but lets have a rellationship anyway."

It is as if I am doing her some sort of freakin favor by going out with her.

Meanwhile the only reason I AM is cause she'd snap my friggin neck like a twig if I dont.

I went back outside agian and Granfather was giving me this angry scowl.

"DID YOU DONE WHUT I ASKED YOU?" he barked. He was no longer talking stilted and slow.

I said, "Yes, Granfather." He then began screamin at me very quickly at the top of his lungs with a cigarete clatched tight in his teeth.

"YOU'RE FULL OF CHICKEN CRAP! -- ACTUALLY, YOU AINT FULL O'CHICKEN CRAP. LORD KNOWS YOU ORTA BE FULL OF IT...
..."UNLESS YOU DONE DAGNAB CHEATED ME BY NOT PROPERLY BURYING MAH GOLLDANG TREASURE BOX SO MAH CONSARNED PAIN IN THE ASS SUMBITCH BROTHER WHOSE GUTS AH HATES NEAR AS YOURS WILL DAGNAB FIND IT."

...Sudenly I looked at the old basterd and that thing on his head started movin even more. It was so disgousting i cannot tell you. There was a whining crackling noise. Sort of like when they show a fast-motion film of a flowor growing but more horrofying. I actaully saw this cigar like thing visibly growing out of the top of his danm head.

Granfather looked at me with a gaze of unpleasent suprise. The thing abruptly and horifically popped and a showor of dark powdery smelly particles wafted and sprinkoled around his head like blackish brown chalk dust.

"CALL THEM DOCTORS, THE CRIPTOS," Granfather said nervuosly. "THIS HERE IS SPOOKY, EVEN FOR ME.

"MAH GOLLDANG ECOSYSTEM OF A SCALP'S DONE BECOME A DAGNAB FREAK-O-SYSTEM."

What "criptos" means:

As you know Grandfather is cared for by criptozoologists. These are the people who I called. As you know Criptozoologists study unexplained forms of life. Their names are Madison, Ripke and Blankenship.

Also I called the HMO just in case the old basterd needs a prescription; (a presciption which does NOT involve somthing you can illegally fish out of the dumpster behind the zoo at 3 AM which is where the criptos get most of Granp's medication).

They criptos say theyll be there in 2 days