(Aftor all, shoudnt parents be forced to pay for kids to read crap like this in school?)
Page 5 of 8
Finaly the day was over and the Lady Who Scraems At Everyone came to get him. Too bad she is not the type of creature who eats her young.
I went back to my desk and found 3 more phonmails. The first was from Granfather, telling me that there was now a "change in plans." It seems that him and his girlfreind were now in the process of working things out -- So I'd better not show up at her house to pick him up, unless, he said in a leering snickering voice, I wanted to catch the two of them congreggating with one anothor in a carnol way. The way he said it I thoght I was going to vomit. I held my head down on the desk and tryed to concentraite on some of the steamior scenes of the The Last Seducton in a desperat atempt to banish the horroble images of Granfather and his girlfreind which were now indelibly tatooed on my brain. But it didnt work.
The third phoenmail was from the pain in the ass womon in Chicago who was now informing me to "Place an All Stop" on all of our office's web projects efective imediatly: We were to build NO MORE WEBSITES for clients, until this dumbass "task force" that she was now asembling coud audit "The whole enterprise-wide bisness model" -- whatevor the hell THAT meant.
Then, just as these butt kissing lackeys get the ball rolling, they allways brag to Top Managment abuot what they are doing, and after it is all said and done, Top Mannagment usualy says, "Harumph! That persen is a real mover and shaker!" and then they get a promotion.
Meanwhile our own deppartment is de-funded and out on our ass. Oh well. I cant get too upset abuot the whole thing. Its only my career. Its only the Internet.
Junior got on the extension line and heard Granpy scream bloodey murder and he colapsed on the couch weeping abbout the whole thing even thuogh it has nothin to do with his family. It is just that when Granfather screamms, even over the phone, it is the most awfull noise in the world. Besides this, Junior is always overly emotionol. In some ways, he is worse even than me.
As i drove up there were a bunch of misorable lookin women hangin around a clustor of picnic tables under some trees drinkin beer and giving me a dirty look, with these beehive hairdos on there heads that apeared to pose a threat not only to ceiling fans but also low altitude aircraft, their sallow faces covored with thick pink makeup which I woud swear came out of somthin that looks like the nozzel of a Cheez-Wiz sprey can. One of them told me where I coud find the trailor of the Female James Carvill.
Like a specter, like an apparition, the frighteningly evil shower-cap-topped face of Granfather's diabolicolly satan-like girlfriend silently popped up at the screen window, eye level to me as I mounted the front steps, boring a hole thruogh me with her demonic beady eyes.
"I assume you are heah fo' to pick up your ole Granpap," she hissed at me thru the screen in a barely audibol, icy cold whispor.
Granfather was squatted in the middol of the floor in a daze. It apeared that he was just coming to from being knocked unconcious. Arround his neck was a cheap picture frame, the kind made from pressboard covored with woodgrain stickyback paper, and held togethor with staples. It also apearred that at one time this frame held an undammaged painting of Elvis Presley, machine-rendered in fluorescent flesh tones on black velvet, ecxept that now this peice of qualitty American art had been rent thruogh the center in a giant jagged rip.
All that frame framed now was just the bastord.
Leaning agianst the refrigorater as cool and as crisp as if she had spent the night inside of it, the female Carvill finaly spoke, sarcasticly, poisonously, casually tossing her shiny somwhat pointed chin toward Granps with contempt, hissing in her whispery bayou drawl as an unlit Virgina Slims danced on the corner of the most far-off remote egde of her lipless slitlike mouth,
"That scandalous pile o' manhood settin' thaya on the flo' is all whut remains o' mah most immediatly recent gentleman caller."
Her smooth dainty arm then swooped downword to strike an Ohio Blue Tip on the sandpapery surface of Granfather's rough boney unshaved cheek and as it blazed to life she touched the dancing yellow flame to the cigarete. It glowed. She stood motionless, dead motionless, as a stream of smoke from her hognose-cobra-like nostrils shot down fast and then rose up slow like a grey ghost to veil the silent fury of her unblinking silvery little evil pointy eyes which looked like the two blunt zinc spikes which remain on the front of an old radio in a small Southorn town that the control knobs fell off long ago.
"Yo' bidness is done heah young man, and so is mine," she snarled at me.
"Git this po' excuse fo' a man off mah trailer lot."
"Git on out, you transmogrified hallucinations of Job and Jezebel!"
I reckonized the line from some torturrous old novel but I cant remembor which one. Yet I am pretey sure that the line was spoken by somone the author called 'the stranger' and it was to animals he was directing the phrase.
"BITCH DONE CLOCKED ME WITH A WRENCH SOCKET," said the bastord after a long, unconfortable silence.
"I DIDN'T WANT THE LAST WORD BOY," he growled.
"BESIDES: ONLY LAST WORD I'D O' DONE GOT WOUD 'O BEEN 'YES DEAR'."
As a speciel treat I took the bastord to Sizzler in a shopping centor where he had been banned years ago. But I chanced it anyway on the hopes that parking lot security woudnt see us. Also, while purpocely putting a blind eye toward what surely will be more probloms with our plumbing systom, I alowed him to eat as many of those freid corn puffs he wanted from the Salad and Fixins bar. Sizzlor is the only place you can get them.
"I AIN'T NEVER BEEN SO DANM HUMILIATED IN ALL MY YEARS," he sputtered, spitting on the acrilyic salad bar sneeze guard, shuffling along on his feet becuase his diaper had dropped down to his ankles, and still crowned by the King, which hung arround his neck in strips of black velvet.
"THET THAR WOMAN WAS PURE EVIL."
Another awkword moment of silence passed as he gentley dipped the ladle of orange nacho sauce into his soup bowl filled with soft ice cream, making a little crator on top that he filled with the meltad cheese. The man on line in front of us held his moulth and turned green. It coud of been becuase of what he was eating, how he looked, how he smelt or all three.
"DANM, I WILL MISS THET GAL" said Granfather.
I geuss if he even had a heart it woud be broken