Oh come on, the wait is still less than for The Sopranos.
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Yes we were five days in there with me in the far back of the van, pressed agianst the doubel doors that had tools and nails and crap all stuffed into the hollow voids of the inside, and everytime we hit a bump I allmost fell out cause the latch was broke and held on by a rusty lock and chain.
Full of disapointment and rejection and a little bit of shame we were driving across one of the States of Mexico (I cannot pronuonce it so dont ask me to spell it) back toword the U.S.A border after a teribly disappointing time in Costa Rica.
Actualy Mexico is a nice country and So is Costo Rica. But we came here hauling cargo. A hideous, disgousting cargo. Yes, The Creature That Used to be Granfather, stuffed, mounted, heavilly painted, pollished and laquored within and thruoghout with many layers of space age plastics and othor flammable compounds, all that were now hardened and dryed as stiff as a big fake rock.
This disgousting cargo was rejected by the people who promised to buy it.
Back to where, we did not know, because Granfather is probly not allowed back in the United States. Alls I know is that the Costarican officials told us to get him the HELL out of there country as fast as posible.
And speaking of his guts: These were removed shortley after his demise and now reside in the rear of a barn on our family's propperty back in Texas, locked in a coupel of well-sealed airtight red plastic five gallen Haz-Met pails (which as you know Haz-Met stands for Hazardous Matterials), where his innards and vittles and sweetbreads and giblets and are now stewing and fermenting in fromadlehyde.
So you figoure the old basterd's gotta be dead right? Well you never know with Granfather: He has a way of amazingly sneaking out of tight preddicaments much like a starved Norway rat is able to enter an abbandoned building thruogh a one inch wide toilet valve, and bite you on the ass when you least expect it.
Anyway, after the guts were removed, the rest of his grisly carcass was scraped clean, and then carefully disected in a makeshift lab set up on our property. The outer husky layer of Granfather was then dried in an industrial beef jerky machene our family rented and the injected fully with varrious polyresins. This is the part of him that traveled with us out of the country.
That is why I was in the van: We drove the old beast down there.
That was only half the check. The othor half was to be dellivered upon receipt of the stiff's corpse. The price agreed upon was a little more than 30 thosand dollars plus a consulting fee of $10,000 split three ways for the scientists who have spent their life studying Granfather: These scientists are the 3 criptozoologists, whose names are Madison, Ripke and Blankenship.
Also they have crankey dispositions. Howevor, before you get the idea that my work doubled, please understand that as gruff and gross as these two old men are, all my toil and work added up to about ten percent of the traumma I experience when I take care of GRANFATHER.
Also Uncle Zeke was only temporarily in need of my help, but that is anothor tangent of a story in itself, and, the way it stands now, (othor than missing the bowl allot when he pees, which for him is normal) Zeke has now completely recovored. Howevor compared to the taking care of GRANFATHER, who as you know is not even human, these two other guys even on their worst day was by comparison like caring for a couple of goldfish, and fake ones at that.
I of course traveled to Costarica as designated Next of Kin. Yes it is houmiliating even to be remotely related to the old basterd and here I am a dirrect decendant.
And Junior, our poor helpless hapless neighbor came along too. He was there for no other purpose exept that he did not want to leave Granfather's side, even in death. Junior is so pittiful, and perhaps the only person in the world (beside me) who cares about Granfather. Howevor he is frightened of Granfather, and Granfather abuses Junior all the time with cruel insults and somtimes he even hits him. (So, I supose being around him in a frozen state was probly not that bad a thing for Junior)
Also Junoir was distruaght over the old basterd's demise. The whole trip he sat next to me, both our backs agianst the rear doors of the van while for hour on end he softley wept and whimpored.
The whole time he looked up at Granfather, (rather what was left of Granfather), which took up most of the van's cargo area.