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The Big Triple Update for May-June-July 2000

Page 25 of 26


What hapened at the sheriffs office

There in the small cinder block sheriff's office a few miles away, me, Stu, Cathyann and Tilde sat there while the old basterd sat on a bench manacled to the wall by one scraggly arm. He had originally been very violent and ressisted arrest. But now the old beast sat there calmly. I dont think he ever had been arested falsely before. More than once he growled at me that he is gonna kill me.

"He really is innocent," I told the cops. I even told them the whole story of how I purpocely staged the attack on the mailbox. One of the deputies came ovor and put his hand on my shouldor to cheer me up.

"I know your grandfather is surely threatenning you to say that, and you're doing a noble thing. But rest assured, we will NEVER believe your story."

One of the othor cops said, "Yeah, and with all his prior arrests, he'll be goin to jail a long time."

The initial bail set for the basterd was more than Stu's corporate credit card limit. Stu actualy seemed insulted. "I have NEVER been turned down because of a credit limit!", he snorted. Granps answored, "JUST THINK, PORKY, IF THEY DID TAKE YOUR CREDIT, WHAT AN INTERESTING EXPENCE ACCOUNT YOU'D HAVE FROM TONIGHT, CONSIDERING WITH THAT OL' DOPE YOU DONE BOUGHT FOR ME."

Stu whispored to Granfather to hush up, and added, "You realy have to stop calling me that, Grampy."

One of the cops came close and examinned a disgousting fungal ring around Granfather's forhead, where the cone had been attached. It was this sort of greenish white crusty goose poop color.

"Be sure to put in the arrest report that prisoner has a nasty hat band rash," the deputy marvelled.

"YOU DUMBASS. I DONE BEEN DEGLAZED.
"YOU PROBLY DON'T EVEN KNOW WHUT THAT MEANS."

One Free Phone Call

Granfather's evil tapered fingors tapped out a long string of numbers on the phone. I did not know who the hell he was calling. When he was finished, he began this slow, tedious fabbrication of a story about how he had been atacked by robbers.

"YES, I WILL HOLD," said the old basterd, "TAKE AS LONG AS YOU CAN."

"Who are you calling?" I asked.

"THE U.S. EMBASSY IN SOME LITTLE BITTY COUNTRY IN AFRICA.

"I DONE MEMORIZED THE NUMBER THERE," he said. "IT'S MY WAY OF STICKIN' IT TO THE MAN...

"IF I CAN KEEP 'EM ON THE LINE TWENNY MINUTES, THESE HERE SUMBITCHES ARE LOOKIN' AT A $200 PHONE CALL."

Since Granfather used up his own free call, I called Junior collect at our house. I told him to colect up all the Travelers Checks that Granfather won from Zeke and William and bring them here.

The old basterd did not cheer up until two in the morning when Junior finaly arrived. Also at the same time, our own County Clerk arrived as well. He heard about the arrest of the old basterd from our sherriff, who heard on the police scanner. If you ask me the poor county Clerk does not have much of a life left if his hatred for Granfather means that he will leave his house in the middel of the night and drive an hour to glory in the sight of the old basterd caged.

But that is not why he is here

The County Clerk sauntered in and tossed what looked like a black firearms bag on one of the desks. Then he stood just as far away from the nailed-to-the-wall Granps so that no slashing claws and fangs woud reach him if the savage beast atacked. His stetson was cocked jauntily to one side and with his arms folded he smirked at the grisly ogre.

"I KNOW WHY YOU'RE HERE!," Granfather called out to him in fake heartfelt emmotion, "YOU'RE HERE TO RESCUE THE MAN YOU LOVE!"

"Oh, no, no, no, Grampy," the County Clerk chuckoled confidently with a big smile. Junior just walked in from posting bail in the othor room. He loped over on his gimpy leg and stared at the two men in wide eyed wondor. "Howdy Mister County Clerk...Howdy Grampy."

Turning to the evil geezer, Junior asked, "When I come out the hospitol, I done HEARD that you two was, you know. Girlfriend and boyfreind. I mean, boy friend, and boyfriend"

This broght a cluster of deputies in close to hear what was going on. The Clerk lost his compousure for a moment and snapped, "That is not true!"

"HE'S RIGHT JUNIOR," Granps added, "AT LEAST NOT NO MORE IN A CARNAL SENSE.

"NAW, ME AND CLERKY ARE JUST LIKE TWO OLD AFFECTIONATE AUNTIES. CUDDLING TOGETHER CHEEK TO JOWL IN THET BIG ASS OLD FEATHER BED AT HIS HOUSE.."

The county Clerk started hollering, "Allright here is why I am here! You are fencing stolen property!" He pulled from his blazer pocket a sworned statement that Uncle Zeke and Uncle William had signed, attesting to Granfather's theivery of Zeke's 1786 King George the Third bumper stickor. Just at that moment one of the Sheriffs walked in with Cathyann, who I had not noticed had got up to take a leak and somtime in the interim had been arrested because she was in hand cuffs.

"Make it more tighter darlin'!" she said loudly to the aresting officer, "BWAHAHAHA!"

County Clerk said, "This young lady is under arrest for being in custody of stolen property." He then unzipped the black firearms bag and pulled somthing out.

"Y'all can see here it's clearly stolen," the Clerk said, "Why its soaked with some of that red anti-theft liquid..."

And just then Granfather shreiked, "NOOOOOOOOO!

"I DONE TOLE YOU TO KEEP THAT OL' THANG SAFE! I WILL KILL YOU BOY! YOU ARE DEAD!"

And there in front of us, the rare fragile priceless parchment, sodden and soaked with red liqoid slowly slid off, after for more than 2 centuries being delicately stuck to that peice of the King's wooden rear car bumper. To the wailing gasps of Granfather, it litorally curled and disintegrated infront of us, forever obscuring before our eyes for the very last time its immortal words, the first ever in the history of bumper stickors:

Hence Passeth:
G E O R G I V S III REX
"Eat Me Royal Duste"

...and who knows, it might be the last one left if Granfather is never able to find that other one hidden in the mountainnous piles of crap in his yard, the one on the FRONT of the King's car which reads:

Hither Cometh:
G E O R G I V S III REX
"Lively Move Aside Ye Bluddy Arse"

Boy was Granfather pissed. His whole body just sort of clentched tight. Then his head started shaking slightley and violently, like somone biting his teeth down as hard as he coud til he nodded rapidly in a sustained, self induced palsy. He was shakin so hard he looked like a blur. Like a million image basterd swirling before us. Like what a giant venemous lizard looks like through a big horsefly's kalaidascope eyes before he becomes the lizerds supper.

By the way after the bumper stickor slid off there hapened to be something underneath. (No, not a picture of Dogs Playing Poker). It was some words. They were painted directley onto the wood. In case you are wondoring what those words were, it said:

GIVE THE BRUTE SOME Burma-Shave(R)

Suposedly it was the fifth and last roadsign in a sequence of five which suposedly back in the 1930s, read, in order:

DOES YOUR HUSBAND...

MISBEHAVE...

ACT UPSET AND...

RANT AND RAVE...

GIVE THE BRUTE SOME Burma-Shave(R)

According to Stu who is knolledgeable about these things, he is not sure if the King George the Third bumper sticker is a fake, but, the Burma Shave sign, (which in its own right is a valauble collectible if it happens to be real) certainly was indeed a fake.

The person who seemed to be more quiet that usuol thruogh all this was Tilde.

I looked over to her. My poor, codependent, touchy feely lacking-in-self-control boss was biting her lip and fighting back tears.

"What did you do?" I screammed at her. Normolly people dont scream at there bosses. But if Tilde is your boss even a milktoast like me does so, on occasion, and more than you mihgt think.

"Oh dear," she trilled.

"The County Clerk called me last night. I...I thought that somhow I could help repair the relationships in your family. So I told him everything," she sighed, her small toadlike face colapsing into a relieved frown.

I coud not imagine that what she was saying coud possibly be true. NO ONE could be that dumb. Not even Junior. And in an odd way, not even Granfather.

"Oh dear," Tilde went on, I just wanted to feel important. I can't help it you know." Her words were drowned out by a struggle on the cheap linolium floor of the sherrifs office. Cathyann was rolling on the floor with two of the cops.

"I AIN'T ATTACKING YOU DARLIN' -- YOU WISH: BWAHAHAHAHA!
"...I JUST FELL, THAT'S ALL."

Then they manacled her to the othor end of the bench. It was one of those wooden benches with an iron ring stuck in the cement every coupel of feet or so. This county has allot of rowdy road houses and in case theres a big bar brawl they can line up all the guys they arrested here at once. They parked Cathyann's big fat ass on the oposite end of the bench where the old basterd sat.

Then Cathyann said very loud to the old basterd: "SO, WHUDDYA SAY, GRAMPY. THEY AIN'T NEVER YET BUILT A JAIL WHUT CAN HOLD US TWO! BWAHAHAHA! BWAHAHAHAH!

BWAHAHAHAH!"