A technological evolutionary dead-end.
Page 17 of 26
"DON'T LET NOTHIN' HAPPEN TO MAH BEANIES," Granfather scolded, "ELSE I'LL KICK YOU WITH MAH HOBNAIL BOOTS SQUARE IN YER OWN BEANIES.
I said to him, "Yes, Granfather."
But there was more. There was something Granfather had in his posession -- posibly illegally -- which made all other collectibles pale in comparrison:
Granfather told me in a serious threatenning tone to go inside the trailor and get the carefully sealed Hefty bag-wrapped package which layed on the floor near the TV.
"LISSEN UP GOOD, BWAH. DO YOU KNOW WHUT'S INSIDE THET THAR BAG?," he warned.
I said to him, "Yes I do." But even still, the old basterd felt compeled to have me tell him out loud.
"WHUT'S IN IT?" he demmanded.
I answored, "It's an automobile bumper stickor."
WHUT KIND OF AUTO - MOE - BILE BUMPER STICKER?", he roared.
"The rarest of them all, SIR!," I answored, practicaly in scripted fashion, in order to sooth and appease the angry old un-human troll -- a troll who by the way still had fresh humen blood all over his danm chin.
"THET'S RIGHT, YOU DUMBASS," gruffed Granfather in a slightly relaxed tone.
"INSIDE THAT THAR BAG IS MAH MOST CHERRY-PICKED ITEM OF ALL THE CHERRY PICKINS," the old basterd growled at me.
"IT'S THE MOST RAREST AUTO - MOE - BILE BUMPER STICKER OF THEM ALL....
To this last question, me and Granfather answered each othor in unison:
"BECAUSE IT'S THE FIRST AUTO - MOE - BILE BUMPER STICKER IN THE WORLD!"
My hands and knees trembelling, I carried the package to the car, opened the trunk, and carefully stuffed the precious booty under a malodorous layer of gamey stinking Beanies. Yes, because inside that package was:
Actualy it was a big ass copper steam boiler atached to a giant hay wagon that went one mile an hour. Look it up on the web if you dont beleive me.
They only made two of these cars and one of them was suposedly sold to King George III of England to help pay for the French Revollution. They say the danm Frogs never made another good car again.
Anyway the king, who was an arrogent basterd, used to like to get driven arround. He liked everyone to know that there was only one working car in the whole world. (Yeah right, he was still smarting from gettin his ass kicked in his war with us.)
So he had this speciel parchment made up to announce how great he was while his fat ass was bein driven down the Pall Mall at one mile an hour.
This special parchment is the world's first automobbile bumper sticker. It was atached by sticky horse hoof glue to the rear wooden bumper of the Cugnot steam car in 1786, and, whether or not Granfather later stole it from his brother or got it in a trade, (so the basterd claims), the undeniable truth is that Uncle Zeke did indeed buy it at the Petaluma car show in Petaluma, California in 1967 and it was still glued to a peice of the sawn off rear wooden bumper (because peeling it off the wood will make it rip), and in any case here is what it says:
The seal of the house of Hannover is in the lower corner, along with a printer's union insignia. Also in pencil along the bottem it faintly reads:
G E O R G I V S III REX
"Eat Me Royal Duste"
Roids of London
...althuogh I think Granfather actualy added the words, "Roids Of" himself.
Considering what stuff like this sells for lately, its probly worth a fortune. Also, somwhere hidden in the back of one Granfather's sheds is the FRONT bumper sticker, which was added a few years later, by which time the king was insane and sufforing from blue urine disease. Its not as good shape as the rear one and has some dried bug marks and spattored road tar.
That parchment reads:
By the time I came outside, carefuly holding the lovingly Hefty-bag wrapped portion of King Geoge The Third's car bumper, Blankenship, (speakin of Bloody Arses) was sprawled on his belly spread eagled naked flat on the picnic table in the yard wailing, "Aye! 'Tis me own fault, alone, 'tis!", while Madison swabbed him down with antibiotics. As the Hazmat truck pulled up to our house on time for their agreed apointment at the Lube Dude Auto Center, Madison muttered into his hand held tape recorder:
G E O R G I V S III REX
"Lively Move Aside Ye Bluddy Arse"
"...Anticipating trauma, the patient had deliberately tightened musculature; therefore the wound was larger and deeper than expected, due to tissue concentration. Upon examining muscle in its relaxed state, the size of the injured area is approximately..."...Yadda, yadda yadda. You get the idea.
As soon as Granfather saw me pull out of the barn our family's special steel wire pet carrier (originaly designed to transport gorillas) the old basterd began scamporing around the yard to avoid us.
The way the cardboard cone was situated on his head, it quickly slid down to obscure his eyes from his scurrying in the dirt on all fours. Madison removed himself from ministering from his colleague's ripped ass and grabbed his ten foot pole with the wire loop on one end.
With his fangs bared and spreys of sizzling venom spiraling upward in the air, and though with his eyes covored, Granfather was still able to locate his attackors by repeatedly flitting his forked tounge in the air.
He sudenly leapt at me, (and I was not even attacking). I scrambled under the car. The beast landed on its belly, its jaws violenty snapping like a crocodile. If not for the cardboard cone on Granfather's head which blocked his entry under the car he woud of surely done worse to me than Blankenship and who knows probly even nailed me in the balls for Godsake. The cone on the top of Granp's head flipped inside out from the force of impact, agianst the car, pushing it down around his shoulders.
As I huddled as hard and close as i coud in fear against the axle under the car, his poisonous lemon yellow cobra eyes with blazing diamond-shaped blood red pupils were now revealed, and they hungrilly staired at me wild and cold like evil solid crystals of firey piss.
"AAAIGH!" one of the HazMat guts screamed. An old tire which lay in the yard beside him started to hop around as a burnt rubbor smell came from it. Granfather had once agian thrown his "voice" and agitated some rainwater which had collected inside the tire's cavity. The water sloshed and then boiled angrilly. It smelt like crap.
"The bus bag! For saint's sake get the bus bag!", Blankenship creid in agony.
The criptos traded a Rubik's Cube and some penecillin for it back in the '80s while tracking some sort of tropical red haired jungle yeti creature which they never found. Anyway we now use that bag to trap the basterd.
The way to captuore a savage reptile is to make him feel cornered. Then you open the bag in front of it. The creature sees the black void inside the bag and thinks its a cave. He dives in to escape. This is exactley what Granfather did. As soon as he lunged into the bag Madison sealed it closed with a pull of the wire loop pole. I heard the monster scream from inside, "DANM DIDDLY DAMN!!
"THEY DONE DAGNAB GIT ME EVERY GOLLDANG TIME WITH THET OL' DAGNAB CONSARN GOLLDANG SUMBITCH BIG OL' BLACK BUS GAS BAG."