Walter Miller's Homepage

Thank God we dont have a corporate vision or nothing like that.

The Big Triple Update for May-June-July 2000

Page 23 of 26


I get her in the car--its not what you think

Stu drove off with the old basterd, as Tilde looked back at me thruogh the rear window, sad like a little puppy headed to the dog pound. I think she wanted to stay. I was glad she was gone. She's got such a big danm mouth, who knows what she woud blab to everyone at work about tonite.

I told Cathyann that I wanted to take anothor look at the Granfather's colectibles she was fencing for me--specifically one very rare package.

"So, you wanna sit in the car with me--whuddya have in mind? BBWAHAHAHAHA!"

So we get in her car and she pops a cassette in the tape deck.

"Do you know thar replaying all them old Twin Peaks episodes on The Bravo Channel? Listen I done taped the creepy music. Aint it creepy? In a sexy way? Oh, by the way: Here's yer big ol' baseball bat," said Cathyann with a grunt as she leant to dig her meaty arm under the car seat, "And it taint no trailer trash aluminum bat neither, that makes a sissy old 'PING' noise. This here's a Louisville Slugger. I want you to beat the cheeze out o'that thar biker bitch's mailbox. 'Property of The US Postal Service MAH ASS.

"BWHAHAHAHAH"! "

I said to her, "Cathyann, we have to talk." But she ignored me, and kept on talkin.

"Here's yer booze. Its cooking wine, but it'll git you drunk on yer BEE -hind, 'least it did for me. 'Course, I kin hold mah liquor better'n you, I suppose."

She kept ignoring me. I repeatted myself, louder, "Cathyann, we have to talk!"

She stopped talkin for a second but just sort of leered at me. She fingered that white plastic departmant store anti-shoplifting disk that was still in her ear.

"Walter, I know whut its about. You're jealous," and I replied, "I am NOT jealous!"

"You LIE like a DAWG!"

I thoght for a minute, and asked myself: Coud I posibly be jeallous? Then I answored, "Okay, I am jeallous that YOU get to be Associate Content Developer while I am still in workstation suport.

"That ol' Mister Bouvard, he's cute," she giggled, "Wonder if I sleep with him, if I coud be promoted...STOP POUTING, Walter, I'm just kidding! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!"

More droning on

I sat there next to her in her car, her big 1977 Caprice Classic with ca-ca colored brownish yellow fake leather upphoulstrey with wire piping all around the perimeter of the seats, where the piping wires stick out and are all broken into stray peices that stab you in the leg and ass.

"I ain't gonna sleep with that ol' slob. I am NOT that kinda girl," she sudenly coughed, making terible throagh clearing noises, "I am a LADY--hacch!--
haaach! HAA-AA-CH!!!

Her voice was then all garbled. "Wait a sec, I gotta open the door to spew out this here ol' big ass phlegm-bob I jest done hacked up...Hold on, I'm gonna pop the parkin' brake so's I can roll a few feet and drop the lil' gobber in the storm drain...PTOOIE!!"

At least somone is proud of me

Cathyann then went on and told me that she is proud of me for atleast sharing my feelings.

"It takes a MAN to admit he's jealous. 'Specially of a woman. 'Specially a strong graceful womon, like me."

Cathyann moved closer. In a breathy drammatic voice she purred, "I don't know if its ME, or if its YOU, or if its thet ol bottle of cooking wine talking. But I KNOW whut you're thinkin'."

I answered, "What is that?"

She said, "You're thinkin' I look just like Heather Graham."

Before I coud answor, she kept chattoring, "I done GOT almost the same face and eyes...She got them gorgoeus eyes. Big, babydoll, almost protruding kinda eyes.
"Same color hair as mine -- 'Cept I dye the skunk line outa mine, but I'm a REAL honey-strawberry blonde -- least I WUZ...'Least I still AM whar it counts! BWAHAHAHAHA!"

I coud not shut her up

"Walter tell me: TELL ME: If I lost five, or FORTY-fahve pounds, and my sexy, protrudin' eyes wuz blue, instead of this here mousy brown, woudn't I look JUST like Heather Graham? Don't look away, you!

"Don't you git shy with me! LOOK at ol' Heather Gray-umm!"

I looked at Cathyann. This was not Heather Graham, not even in a carnival fun house mirrer. Her hulking body was shaped like "Miss Wardrobe" from Disney's "Beuty and the Beast". Her face was flat, like somone pressing it as hard as she could against an invisible peice of plate glass. Her eyes protruded allright but not in a sexy way. More like a ghastly bulge, like early in the first Godfather movie when poor Luca Brotzi was gettin strangulated to death with a piece of piano wire and after his hand got nailed to the bar in that fancy restuarant. As far as a resemblance to Heather Graham, well, mabye Cathyann had the same number of fingers and toes as her. But that was about it.

I glanced over a few times in the crowded backseat to see where Granfather's special treasure might be buried. Meanwhile Cathyann's giant flat face got closer.

"Say, Mister," she breathed, "I see you keep on lookin at the back seat."

She began to speak low and very slowley, her big meaty face close to mine.

"Whud'ja say you and me just sort of hop over thar and SPRAWWWL OUT on all them Beany Babies, and do a whole lot o'nasty ole thangs and REALLY give this heah little ol' town sumptin to talk about!"

Oh God no

Just as i said, "I dont think so" Cathyann lunged at me. Leaning her big elbows on my chest she attached her lips to my neck like a razor mouthed lamprey to the belly of a sqiurming fish. Wheezing heavily she propelled her big feet along the front seat of the car to pin me to the pasenger door as while she pumped and scrambled her stout legs to push me ahead, her gummy sandal soles scraped the fake leather seats in the rubbory sound of a loud fake fart. Finally pinned, she pressed her sweating heaving gasping torso agianst me. A large beefy fist shot past me and downword, locking the door.

I was parralized and could not move. And then I saw it: the giant open mouth heading toard me. It was like one of those big wet lappy open moulth kisses that begin three feet away they always have in those low-budget fuzzy candlelit half hour TV-MA shows you often see on late night cable that Granfather is forced to watch when the Pourn Pay Per View people decline his credit card for the harder core stuff. I tried to dodge her, but I just was not strong enough.

When Dates Attack

Sudenly she grabbed my crotch -- No, please get your mind out of the gutter: NOT in "that" way; this was with the heel of her hand, and she used it to lift me up in the air with a grunt while her othor hand clutched the scruff of my neck and she shook me like a ragdoll and heaved me over the benchseat into the plush sea of stuffed animals on the othor side. As I sailed in the air in the Caprice my sneaker scuffed agianst the fabric roof covering with a strong force that knocked it loose. Cathyann dove in the back next. The bar bucked and crunched under her weight. The nylon roofing fabric fell on top of us like a colapsing tent and in the dark I gasped and i shoud not have because when I did in came THE TOUNGE.

Oh God it was so disgousting. I treid desperately to fight her off but I coud not. I just was not strong enough. And that TOUNGE: My Dad was grilling some meat once at a church picnic my family went to when I was about twelve and Dad asked me to flip one of the steaks. It was a Londen Broil, mabye four inches thick and two feet long. The pair of tongs I used were small skinny ones your suposed to use to flip vegetobles. I gripped one end of the Londen Broil as hard as i coud but the danm thing kept flopping heavily and twisting arround out of control and bashing into corn and hotdogs and other things on the grill. It felt like a living thing it was so big. Like wresstling a 400 pound thrashing sturgeon with a ballpoint pen impaled on its lip. This is what Cathyann's tounge is like when you kiss her. As I tried to fight her off, the Twin Peaks music ran of the casette in her tape deck, and the music that had originally been on it blazed over the speakers: It was dramatic music from the old Lost In Space series -- the music they play in the last 15 minuttes of the show when Will Robinson's father is battoling some alien in a life and death struggle:

Bom...Bom...BOM...Bom... Ba-DAH!
NAH-nah-NAH-nah-NAH-nah!

Bom...Bom...BOM...Bom... Ba-DAH!
NAH-nah-NAH-nah-NAH-nah!

And then sudenly a scream. A loud blood courdling scream. Not from Dr. Smith, but from me. Oh, the pain, the pain of it all...Actualy there WASNT no pain...

"Blood! Its blood!" I shreiked.