Walter Miller's Homepage

Wallowing still, after all this time, in the ponderous exhuberance of my own verbosoty

The Big Triple Update for May-June-July 2000

Page 14 of 26


An hour later I glanced outthe window of my room to see in the crackling violet glow of the bug zapper in the yard, Madison, Blankenship, and the driver of the HazMat truck shakin hands in a big ball of fists and smiles all around, just like that old film of Jimmy Carters Camp David Accord. They have reached an agreement. This is what they woud do:

Deglazing the old basterd

Have you ever watched one of those cooking shows where they just made some French dish and theres all this crusty drippings on the bottem? And then, they throw some fancy French wine or somthin in the pan to loosen it all up? (Of course here in Texas they use flour and water and pour it all ovor biscuits) but in any case thats what they agreed woud be done to Granfather. His whole body exept his scalp. Just as long as they do NOT encroach on his newly-designated UNESCO World Heritage Habitat Site.

They whipped out there cell phones, and right there, an apointment is set for first thing tommorrow morning -- where they woud all meet on a remote concrete platform out in a grassy field behind the Lube Dude Auto Center on the Business Route.

There, under the supervision of both the Criptos and the State bug sprayers, the owner of the Lube Dude, a designated third party, woud be contracted to saute the old sonofobbich in an old satelite dish full of flaming accelarant.

"It appears the State has alreddy a-paid for the liquid chemicals," I heard Blankenship speak in his clipped brogue, "In the meantime I will get the HMO to pay for the labor."

But insted of fancy frog wine the old basterd woud be in fact be deglazed in bug sprey. Specifically Dursban(R) which was just banned by the EPA.

Durs-BANNED: -- It is like losing a close freind

Because of the horrid loathesomness of living with a critter-encrusted bug-bound basterd, the banning of pesticides is always a traumattic event for our family. The last time somthing like this hapened was back in '87 when Chlorodane was banned.

I was just a kid then but I can still envision like it was yestorday my poor distrought dad kneeling and weeping by the side of his bed at the loss of his adored and cherished amber, pungent, fragrant beauty, his beloved Chlorodane, as Granfather looked on in amusement.

Then just a year later in '88 the danm EPA banned Pentachlorphenol but by that time our shellshocked family was too numb even feel any furthor hurt. Some people say it is inpossible to truely love a simple chlorinated hydrocarbon solution. They are wrong.

In the middle of the night My brother calls

I picked up on the phone in my room. My brother Spike as you know hates Granfather, but he called anyway to try to broker a deal between the old basterd and his two brothors.

He said to me, "Walter, listen, Zeke and William are ready to bury the hatchet."

"YEAH! BURY IT IN MAH BACK!," Granfather screamed from listenning in on the extension.

"No," my brothor said, "We should all meet on neutral ground. No weapons, and most of all NO LAWYERS... So, how about the diner, tomorrow night?"

"FINE BY ME," the old basterd grunted, then slammed the extension down. I was left on the phone with Spike, who I congrattulated for wanting to be a peacemaker in our family.

I said to him, "This is very big of you. Now mabye our family can love one anothor and finaly break free from the bonds of disfunction."

Spike roared back, "You codependent pansy-ass. I'm doing this because I cant stand these two old geezers in my house anymore, bitching and moaning about Granfather. And in the case of sleepwalking freqeunt-urination sufferer Uncle Zeke, peeing on the carpet and brandnew hardwood floors without him knowing it till the next morning.

"They can all three drop dead for all I care!" my brother hollered.

"That is not nice!" I said. Spike retorted, "As long as they're visiting let them stay in the trailer with you and the old basterd. Meet you at the diner, tomorrow at six," and then he too slammed the phone down but not before he called me a "delicate daisy dumbass."

"GOOD, YOU'RE OFF THE PHONE," said Granfather. "I NEED TO GIT ON, AND BREAK UP WITH THAT UGLY LITTLE HAG OF A FIANCE."

I said to him, "Granfather, you cannot break up with a womon your engaged with over the phone!"

"WATCH ME," he grumbled.

"But why are you doing it now?," I asked.

"YOU MEAN, OTHER THAN JUST TO PISS OFF SPIKE AN' MAKE YOU JEALOUS?

"HERE'S ANOTHER REASON, AS IF I NEED ONE: 'CAUSE SHE WOUDN'T AGREE TO HIDE SOME OF MAH MOST PRECIOUS COLLECTIBLES AT HER HOUSE."

"SAID, 'THEY SMELL LIKE CHICKEN CRAP'. ...KIN YOU IMAGINE THE INSULT?"

"BESIDES, I'M GITTIN DE-SAUCED TOMORROW, SO I GOT TO CALL HER NOW, BEFORE SHE COMES BY IN THE MORNING TO WATCH REGIS AND KATHY LEE."

I coud not bear to listen to it. I went back to bed, but thruogh the cheap thin walls of our trailer, it is not easy to tune out Granfather's screaming voice--which is his regulor speaking voice. The odd sour faced little woman who bears an unfortunnate resemblance to comic Al Franken must of been giving him a fight, becuase Granfather got louder and more vicious. At one point he interupted himself in the middle of a mean malicious tirade by saying softley, and even a little politely: "HOLD UP, DARLIN'...

..."ALL THEM INSULTING THINGS WHUT YOU JUST SAID ABOUT MAH FAMBLY -- I PUSSONALLY DON'T GIVE A CRAP WHAT YOU SAY, BUT ALL YOUR INSULTS ARE SURE TO HURT THE BOY'S FEELINGS.

"WOULD YOU MIND REPEATIN' WHAT YOU JUST SAID--HEY, BOY! PICK UP THE DANM EXTENSION!...
... I did not pick up the phone. But what granfather's girlfreind was saying was true: Granfather is a greedy monster. He hates all of humanity. And all he lives for are his danm COLLECTIONS. Granfather's greedy obbsessive collecting is destroying his family.

The specific details About this particulor lawsuit that Granfather's brothers are Bringing