Walter Miller's Homepage

"There are Anal Retentive and Anal Compulsive personality types. Maybe your grandfather is a new one: Anal Corrosive."
--from our fan mail bag. THANKS READERS KEEP THEM LETTERS COMIN.

Febuary 97 Update

Page 8 of 8


I LOVE NATURE GARDAMMIT!

He told me to take off his showercap which was all full of mineral spirits & melted glue but he had to lie down first for me to catch the liqoud or else it woud of spilt evereywhere. I asked him: Granfather, where do we dump this? Its dangerus chemicols we cant put down the sink--it coud harm the septic. The old basterd said to me POUR IT IN THE CREEK FER ALL I CARE, BETTER YET SPLASH THEM BUSHES OUR FRONT, THEY BLOCK MUH VIEW O'THE TRACTOR SHED.

Nature-lover my ass. Betwen his natural odors, unnatoral behavor & unworldly secretions hes the frikin living walkin Exon Valdez.

Then he wheeled in my room demanding I 'take a letter'.

TONITE YOUR WRITING A LETER TO THEM FOLKS IN MY DEFENSE he growled. He sat there as i typed, screamin out rambling dictation. As soon as Id type somthing hed change his mind & make me revise it. Hed get frustreted & hit me. He slaped the back of my head each time i made a typo: YOU KNOW how many I make. I started cryin. Then he said OK BOY, YOU JUST WRITE THE DAMN THING, YOUR THE BIG LIAR IN OUR FAMLY.

He left me in my room with the door open while rolling aroun the trailer screamin out ideas for me to put in the letter to suport his claim to 'love nature':

TELL 'EM I READ GORE'S BOOK.
TELL 'EM BETTY WHITE'S MUH FAVORITE 'GOLDEN GIRL.'
WHEN THAT LETTERS DONE I BETTER FRIGGIN OUTSHINE MARLIN PURKINS DAMMIT.
i dont even know who that is.

Out onthe town

At 9 PM he put on a clean shirt (which NEVER hapens) and wheeled in my room mumbling incoherently from somthing in his mouth. This is REAL repulsive but he was suckin on one of those big restarant sized round white tablets they put urinals. I swear. NO KIDING he uses them for his bad breath. The day I first saw this, I was so ashamed ofmy beastly heritage & geneology I cryed & threw up for a week. The doctor said FINE let him use them--it DOES help his rancid breath somwhat.

The doctor insists he suck ONLY fresh new ones and NOT fish them outof public johns--Not that hed catch a disease, (and not that the Doctor cares); but becase new fresh ones are larger & have sharp egdes which increse the lucky chance that one mihgt lodge in his throat an hed choke, fulfiling the Docters singulor career fantasy of prononcing the old basterd dead. I ordered 4 dozen boxes over the Web last year.

Then I hear a car pull up an who comes tothe door but the witchy lookin woman who exacly resembled Howord Stern we saw in the roadhouse. I finaly remembered her as a womon of low morals from another county who used to entertain granfather about 5 years ago for WHO KNOWS what incentive. Oh MAN he was goin on a date with her YES HE WAS cheatin on his girlfrend! Granfather grabed me by my Adoms Apple (which HURTS) an harshly pulled my face close & whispered so the woman coudnt hear: LISTEN UP BOY I AINT GOT NO NOOKY IN LONGER'N I CARE TO FANCY then he told me if I stooled on him to so much as a soul hed personoly administer a whole unopened box of urinol tablets long side first up my ass so far Id taste lemmony mint freshness in my mouth for a year.

Well i didnt "tell" no one but I WROTE about it. And NOW its on the Web: Theres nothin he can do about it. SORRY GRANFATHER: iF YOUR such a mean basterd dont suprised if Im a stool pigeon.

The next day I got up at 7am and had to go somewhere. Gramps wasnt home yet! I came back at 1pm and saw the old basterd sittin in his whealchair sound asleep in the yard, spattored with barbecue sauce and nasty lipstick marks. His head was way back, his moulth was open and YUP, a giant raven was pertched on his huge jagged hatchet shaped Dr. Kavorkienlike nose as you geussed it--pickin food out of his teeth.

Years back, my Dad says granfather actualy woke up once durin a 'feeding' because a big crow somhow got his beak cought in the old basterds teeth while pickin at a big morsol. Man and beast (or rather beast and semi-beast) then wrangoled in the dirt 5 minutes till both were loosed free. Later on granfather said he was GLAD it hapened cause he had shred of steak cought on a upper molar for a week an it bothered him. FELT LIKE A DAMN PEICE O'ROPE STUCK BACK THERE AN IM MIHGTY GRATEFUL TO THE BIRD.

One NOT so lucky bird

I took a shower & went back outside. Granps was awake, coughing...and the crow was gone...The old basterd had this sureptitiously evil look on face. WHAT THE HELL YOU LOOKIN AT? he snarled. Then he burped & a small feathor flew out his nose.

Looks like there will be more than PIGEON 'STOOLS' to come around here...

End of Feb 97 update

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