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The Truth Is Out There. (But dont look for it here.)

The Summer 2001 Update

Page 13 of 50


"I want that turkey. I WANT THAT TURKEY!" Spike yelled. He had ben drinking a little. Spike had recentley recouped allot, (but not all) of the money he lost in the stock market in my last update (lucky basterd) by investing in bonds and short selling and a whole lot of othor things I dont understand, and now that he was rich agian was lookin for unusuol diversions to spend it on.

Sudenly the lights went out in the trailor.
Spike openned the window and hourled loud curses at the criptozoologists who were cursing themselfs for causing the outage, with Blankenship yellin the loudest, "We must restore the conection if we are to keep the subject alive!"

Junior starts to cry

Junior stomboled past us in the dark trailer and tumbolled out in the yard, blubboring and crying "We have to save Grampy!" As his big fat belly brushed past me, I recoiled in horror at the thoght of Stu's ravennous designs on our poor old family freind.

A momant later, the lights came back on. By this time, Uncle Zeke was looming ovor me with a severe walleyed glare.

"Jest 'cause there was a lot of blood, don't mean no REAL harm were done to yer paw," he lectured me. "Years back, Nixon used to tell the cops to never whup them hippies on the head, when the TV cameras was running. Only 'cause it bleeds 'em the most and hurts 'em the least."

I was very polite to him dispite the fact I wanted to say somthing contrary. Howevor I am too shy and sheepish.

I heard irregular shoffolling steps leap up the rickety wood porch which I knew were those of Dr. Blankenship, who, due to a Granfather-related mishap (detailed on a prior update of this webpage) suffored the tragic loss of half a buttcheek sevoral months ago and now badly limped.

"'Tis a miracle!," shreiked the gimping Scotsman, "The Subject 'tis awake!"

Boy you shoud of heard the curses Spike spit out when he said that.

Me, Dad, my stepmom and Uncle Zeke pushed out of there like the house was on fire to see in the near darkness sittin in the chocolotty colored water, now bubbling in a low boil, Granfather, still up to his chin staring straight ahead at us angrily.

"He canna yet speak, nor he canna move," Blankenship explianed breathlessly. I heard some heavy grunting and gasping and a tinny sqeaking noise, having not even noticed that Junior was a few feet away pedalling furiousley on a stationery exercycle.

"Mah legs is gittin sore!" he wailed, but Dr. Blankenship told him to "Keep-a-pedallin' or otherwise she'll break the voltage and The Subject would die."

At these words Uncle Zeke on instinct picked up a rock and hourled it at Junior's head. He missed.

The family is informed of the Horrofying developments

Yes, horrofying because they involve Granfather actually surviving his ordeal. We all crowded into one of the small poultry hatching sheds, about 100 feet or so from the trailor. The tiny shed's big double doors were open, and backed up agianst the opening was the rear of the Cripto's white Ford van, which, as an addition to the small room, nearley doubled its size. This was the Command Centor for keeping the old basterd alive.

It looked like the lair of a mad scientist with all sort of buzzing machines, blinking computors and steaming smoking beakers and flasks. The unmisteakable odor of crap permeated the area.

"The Subject is receivin' a dir-r-r-r-ect electrical charrrge," Blankenship told us, similor to the dangerous fatal jolts a human gets when a plugged-in TV or hair dryor is dropped in the bathtub. Granfather, not being human, was able to not only withstand the charge, but thrive on it.

The brown water Granps sat in was actualy Betadine Iodine Sollution. Blankenship said he got the idea from an X-Files eposode, the one where the guy who lator went on to play creepy Dr. Romano on E.R. played a Pensylvania ambulence driver who sat in a bathtub of the dark stuff to regrow himself after his head got whacked off.

Warning. This next parragraph is gross

Dad asked about the row of liqiud filled glass jugs that sat on the high shelf. These held Granfather's internol organs which were removed aftor the autopsy but before taxidermy. It did not mattor that these things were missing from the blinking, farting "Subject": This is because Granfather was regrowing himself from the inside out.

"Kin I stop pedallin' yet?" Junior howled from outside.

"NO!" the doctors hollored back. Howevor an hour later they were able to hook Grampy back up the power grid, and Junior got a rest.

"I dont CARE about a rest," Junior sobbed, "If them doctors asked me, I'd jest pedal and pedal muhself to death if I coud just bring back Grampy!"

That night my stepmothor cooked us all a big meal and to seat us all, we rolled in the big wooden Phone Company cable spool that serves as our low-class family's holiday "big table." Uncle Zeke houmiliated the family and himself when he refused to eat the food cause it was not "American" cause my stepmother Susie is from HongKong and he was afraid the exotic cooking woud hurt his stomoch. But she's lived here in America for 20 years and alls she made was macoroni and cheese and pot roast for Godsake.

Zeke tromped off to his room (MY old room dammit), and like a stiff old fart, and put on a jackat and tie and insisted somone drive him to the diner in town for a "regulor supper." Believe me, you do NOT need a jacket and tie to get in that place, but that is how Uncle Zeke, being such a crusty old fashionned guy with a poker up his ass always saw things.

Evereyone ignored Zeke while he stood next to the table and stooped his head ovor us like a large construction crane watching us eat, until, finaly, clomping off in disgust he ambled into the bathroom, and while the door was wide open and in full view of us (cause Uncle Zeke never shuts the door of the bathroom), he promptley withdrew his tie from his buttoned coat in a slightley fumbling motion, then lifted the seat, then held the tie out and down with two hands directly ovor the toilet, and before he realized his error promptley peed in his pants.

Later on Madison told us that when Zeke fell in that pit of sharponned sticks one of them must of severed the nerve that runs from his bladdor up to coggnitive reflex area of his brain.

After supper I did somthing I dont do allot: I had three beers with Spike while later on we all sat and watched the Fox News Channol.

It all went striaght to my head and I acted kind of silly. (I am talking about the beer). I bumped into the cofee table and later on I tripped on the rug. Well it is a small trailer with allot of people in it I cannot help it.

Uncle Will has takon a turn for the worse

We coud barely wake him up to give him his medicine. Uncle William was back hooked up to all of his rolling carts, including the liqiud oxygen pump that went into his nose and lungs. Uncle Will has shrunk much smaller than his five foot height ovor the years and me and Spike weihged him on the bathroom scale and he was just 49 pounds.

"That is less than half the weigght of Bourbon Boy Red," mused Spike.

Of course I was drinking so I dropped my end of him right where Zeke made the puddle.

Dad was pissed

Dad seemed furrious at me cause I got drunk. But since he is not around alot being that he lives in California he held back from lectouring me. Mabye it was from guilt because I am the one who has to deal with GRANFATHER more than anyone else.

Me and dad are very alike. We are calm and shy and queit. Spike has inherrited Granfather's temper, self confident pride and sick sence of humor. Thank God thats all he inherrited.

Instead, my stepmother had a few words with me. I must say I realy love her. I did not think anyone coud take the place of my mother who died when I was 14 and even thuogh I love Susie diferently, it is just as much. She is able to realy tell you off and lay into you, but when you walk away, you get the feeling that you were just encourraged. Anyway she sat me down in private and told me that 3 beers is probly too much for somone like me. At first I lied and said it was only two. In a nice way she told me I was actin like a fool. It is true, I canot hold my liqour. Really, zero beers is my limit. I was kind of houmilliated and then afterward I appologized to both her and to Dad in front of everyone, because I thuoght that woud be the right thing to do. It was a big long overly drammatic appology. Spike rolled his eyes and Dad and Susie both seemed very embarrassed. Dad told me to STOP IT. Then I started cryin and I said I "I CANNOT DO ANYTHING RIGHT AND NOW I AM EVEN MORE SORRY," and Dad raised his voice which he never does and said I dont want you to be sorrey I want you to be a MAN.

Sudenly another scary power outage

It all began with a huge rumbol. Then a loud flash filled the room from outside. It looked just like in those movies when the atom bomb hits. We ran to the window to see what it was. A strong light apeared from inside the tub where the old basterd sat. It rose upword, ilumminating his ugly frozon devil face.

It was a glowing, sizzling, slow moving, blue-colored fireball

It was the size of a baskatball. The big blob of light slowly travolled up the length of the creosote pole to meet the power lines above.

"Ach!" Blankenship screamed, "He's laid a bluddy fart! It canna be! It canna BE!"

Madison yelled at Blankenship, "You dumbass! You said he was seeping gas, not actualy farting! You promised it wasnt possible!"

The flash of light then grew, even as it was moving away from us. It was now roughley the size of a small pickup truck, and it slowly buzzed along the top of the electricol power lines, much like a slow moving locomotive on its way down the track. It started changin colors.

"Look at the bonny hues o'green and gold and red, argh!," Blankenship marvelled, "Methane, chlorine, strontium...Aye, fermented poison gasses from the belly o'the Beast, set ablaze!"

Frankley I was not impressed

It was only an ordinnery fart for cryin out loud -- an ordinery Granfather fart, I might add, that someone was dumb enough to send an electricol charge through. I'd seen the old basterd do worse with just a coupol of Girl Scout Samoa Cookies and a glass of vannilla Ensure in his gut during a thundorstorm.

When the fireball reached a pole on the far end of the propperty that had one of those big grey garbage can-shaped transformers on it, the whole thing exploaded.

"Tis providence hath spared our life!" cried Blankenship.

The big town siren began wailing from six miles away.