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Some people use elephent dung and call it "art". We use typoes.
Try to prettend its not October and this is instead:

The August 1999 section of the big doubel July - Augost '99 Update

Page 3 of 4 of Update 2 of 2


"What hapenned!" I demmanded. I am normolly not good at standin up for myself or being authorrotative but I try when I have to. My heart was beatting hard.

"HMM?...WHUT?...THIS?", said the old basterd acting purpocely dumb and pointin to the streak of scarlet on his nose and lip.

"Yeah THAT," I said.

Granfather bit his lip and furrowed his brow as the small wooden wheels in his head spinned as he tried to think of some lame ecxuse to give.

"YOU KNOW THET THAR LIL' DANCING BABY ON THE ALLY MC BEAL SHOW??"

"WAAL, YU'LL NEVER B'LEEVE IT. THE LIL' CRITTER DONE SHOWED UP HERE. I KID YOU NOT.

I just staired at Granfather and he staired back. "AND OF ALL THE NERVE, HE TRIED TO TAUNT GRAMPY ON HIS MORTALITY."

I said to him, "Where did the blood come from?"

"I DONE SPEARED THE LIL' SUMBITCH WITH A CURTAIN ROD AN' HE ESCAPED IN THE BARN. GO 'HEAD AND LOOK, I AIN'T LYIN'"

I repeatted my question, "Where did the blood come from?" and Granfather haughtilly answored, "THERE YOU GO AGINN, ENDING AN INTERROGOTIVE WITH A PREPOSITION."

It was then i heard the wail. A pained groan came from inside the broom closet. Instantley, Granfather sprang out of the easy chair and pinned me to the wall with one of his tiny twiglike but monstrously strong arms. In his othor hand he held...YAH! THE NAIL GUN!

The old basterd then stuck the nail gun in my pants. Unable to speak I shook viollantly in fear that Granfather woud now actualy follow through with one of his awfull cruel threatts. I heard the gun go off and slam into the alunimun wall of the trailor about nine times as Granfather whispored to me with breath like an elephent's ass, "THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD BWAH!"

I treid to run my fingers down to see where sureley I felt blood runnin down my leg. As if the old basterd coud read minds, Granfather said to me, "YOU AIN'T BLEEDIN', YOU DONE PEED YER PANTS."

The old basterd was standin in front of the broom closet holdin an ax handle. The moans from inside got loudor, and I heard cries and pounds on the door.

"HE AIN'T UNCONSCIOUS NO MORE! HE'S COMIN' OUT!," Granps muttered, chewin on a limp unlit sopping Te Amo.

For a second I thoght mabye he wasnt kidding about the little computorized baby from that TV show, til out burst from the closet door the county Clerk.

He was dazed and in a stupor. He started screamin at Granfather that he was gonna have him throwed in jail for 30 years. He hollared at me to call the Sheriff or else Id be goin to jail too and Granfather hollored back, "THE BWAH CAIN'T HEPP YOU, I DONE NAILED HIS TROUSERS TO THE WALL," and also, "I DIDN'T HIT YOU, YOU DONE HIT YER HAID ON THE COFFEE TABLE...
"...BUT I'M FIXIN' TO HIT YOU NOW!!"

The two men went at it but as you coud of guessed Granfather got the best of the County clerk even thuogh he was a strong man atleast six-three.

I look on in horrer.

Like an evil tiny gremlin, the old basterd had the man on his belly in no time, and clawed and tored his clothes off down to the underpants. Then Granfather, who still had the nail gun in his hands and fastor than a whirlwind whipped the County Clerk's belt off his pants, hog tied the big screaming thrashing gentelman's wrists with the belt and shot nails thruogh the belt in three places efectively securing him to the floor.

"Unlawful detainment!," he gasped at Granps, "Twenty years in prison!"

Hovering over the County Clerk's groin area Granfather began snappin his jaws in the air and they made a sharp cartoon chiselly sound like two rocks hittin each other.

"UNLAWFUL BITING. LIFE SENTENCE WITH NO BALLS. ONE MORE WORD FROM YOU, AND I DO IT."

The old beast then sprang up and landed like a quick moving lizerd seated on the couch and rappidly tapped at a laptop computor that I hadnt noticed had been sittin on the coffee table with his gnarley hourny unhuman spindly E.T.-like fingers...It was MY LAPTOP, one of my old backups that he must of found in my room.

"Granfather, that is MY laptop!" I said, "And not only that, get me off this wall!"

The basterd stopped typeing and shot me an evil yellow eyed glance, and then cocked his head to the side like a hungrey velociraptor ready to strike.

"DID WE HAPPEN TO HIT YOU IN THE DANGLY GIBLETS BY MISTAKE WITH THET THAR NAILGUN?" he trilled at me in a sarcaustically sweet voice, "CAUSE WE'RE ITCHIN' TO PIN MORE THANGS TO THET THAR WALL!"

"Who's 'we'?", I asked, since he emphatized the "We" and he answored in his best Clint Eastwood voice, wavin the nailgun in the air, "ME...AND MISTER BLACK...AND MISTER DECKER.

"...GO HEAD. MAKE MY DAY."

Granfather then turned his frighteningly ugly face away from me and atacked the keyboard with a renewed dilligence, as he also squinted his eyes at a book that was propped up next to him, a copy of A Beginner's Guide to HTML.

"DAMN!", he cried, "IS IT 'A-LINK OR 'H-REF?'"
"AND HOW TO I ANCHOR A DAGNAB IMAGE TO THE CONSARN PAGE?"

The allmost nakad County Clerk was still howling and aftor a minute or so of Granfather furriously tapping on the laptop screammin things out like, "CONTROL-V PASTE, YUH SUMBITCH," and also "'F1 HELP' MAH ASS, the beastly troll once agian sprang onto the poor restrained public servent and knelt his scraggly disgousting knees on his back. The poor man shreiked cause he figoured somthing ghastly, somthin horroble was about to happen to him.

He was right.

From inside his filtley tee shirt and seemingly from within a mass of his matted chest hair Granfather pulled out a Yellow and Blue Makes Green Seal Ziploc bag marked "EVIDENCE" that the County Clerk had for the past few weeks been carrying arround, the bag that inside it was Cathyann's now famous polyblend synthetic stretch tube top. And untill now...You coud not imagine HOW horroble that 'somthing' might be.

The poor man