Walter Miller's Homepage

If you cant tell by now the whole thing's a prank, well I aint gonna say nothin...

The belatad Spring 2000 Update in 3 pitiful parts: Febuary, March and April

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3 of 3 (April part)
"NO, I AIN'T GOING AWAY. YOU'RE GONNA GIT UP, BOY. IT'S LUNCHTIME," he snorled.

I told Granfather to get his own danm lunch. But the old cheap basterd said he was takin me into town to treat me. That sure as hell was a first.

"I KNOWS YOU GOT A DATE TONITE, BWAH," he said.

"How coud Tilde know that?," I asked, "She knew I placed a personol ad. But how did she know somone responded?"

"NO ONE TOLE ME," said the old bastord, pointing his brown fingornail toward my computer, which was on, "THIS TIME I TRULY DID HACK YER HARD DRIVE. I READ THE WHOLE DANM CORRESPONDENCE. THE ONE BETWEEN 'STUDLY J. HUNK' AND 'EXTREMELY GORGEOUS'."

"KIN I GIVE YOU SOME ADVICE, BWAH? 'EXTREMELY GORGEOUS' MAH ASS, IS WHUT MAH GUESS IS."

I did not even get mad. I geuss I should learn to accept Granfather's evil as a given.

I went inside the kitchon and there I saw Granfather's girlfreind who presumably came for breakfast and was just now leaving. There on the kitchin table was a printout of the reply writton by "Extremly Gorgeous", and she eyed it warily.

"I'm no expert in online romance," said the female Al Franken lookalike to me in flat monotone, "I mean, look at the kind of man I meet, for heaven's sake. But this apears to have been written by, oh, I'd say, a forty-seven year old man named Morty. Balding probably, never married, and with a limp."

I thanked her for her help. But then I said that I needed to live my own life, and if that meant makin my own misteakes, well then, so be it.

"AND YOU SURE AS HELL GOT ENOUGH EXPERIENCE IN THAT, YOU DOPE."

"Be careful, Walter," said Granfather's girlfreind, "And just be careful of people you meet on the Internet," and then she added with a whisper so the old basterd woudnt hear, "I know I wasn't.

A few minuts later she drove off, and Granfather stared out the window.

"WHAT A BEWITCHINGLY COMPLEX WOMAN," he mused. "TOO BAD I AM INCAPABLE OF LOVE."

The old basterd then dressed and we went out to lunch.

And yes, Glory Be, the old chiseling cheapskate actually payed for the meal. Although it is always hummiliating to be in public with him.

Granfather not only is a man of bad looks and smells he is a man of bad taste. Especialy in clothing. There is somthing to be said for somone who buys most of his clothing over web based auctions. A year ago he boght this awful road-cone orange colored three peice suit for fifteen bucks. Aparantly it was from 1969 or thearabouts and it bellonged to the costume department of The Lawrence Welk Show.

All the musicians in the orchastra wore the same ones. It looks exactly like a regulor polyester suit exept it is the color of a construction orange road cone. This is what he wore when we went out. Granfather had soiled the trousers too badley and so wore sweat pants and his adult diapor below the blazor and vest.

The cafe in our town is the only restuarant. During the week its full of ranchers and truckers in the early morning but is quiet thruout the day but on Saturday the whole town is in there. We pulled up and parked next to a familor car: the county Clerk's white Chevy.

"OH BOY, I'M GONNA BREAK HIS CHOPS," he said with glee. I said, "NO! you will behave."

Spring is in the air

When we went inside the County Clerk was sittin at the booth with this womon he is dating. I knew he was dating a women but I never said a word to Granfather about this. Surely the old monster woud of cooked up some mischeif to embarras him. On the way to our booth the old basterd insisted on trying to walk past their booth but I woud not let him. He also kept stairing at them, staring enuogh so, that across the crowd I saw the woman's lips move as she asked the County Clerk, "Who is that?" and the County clerk audibly said NO ONE! and apeared to get very nervuos that Granfather was in same cafe with him. You realy cant blame the poor man.

There was one empty booth in the whole place. Granfather kept walkin back and forth in front of the it tryin to decide which side of the table to sit at. I said to him, "Granfather, you canot see the County Clerk from eithor side. Please just pick your seat."

The old basterd said, "ALLRIGHTY, I WILL," and then he started dramatically pickin at his butt. I said to him STOP THAT.

Once we got our food Granfather then proceeded to tell me this long awfull story. There is nothin more awful than hearing the old basterd pontifficate. He gets this superior hoidy-toidy tone. He is so patronizing and condescending. He is a pompous ass.

I sware when he gets on his high horse I prefer him to be cruel and mean.

He acts like a sophisticatted man of the world who is some sort of cultivated cosmopolitin bon vivant. But the truth is he is a low class yokel bumpkin. Who has bad habits like chewin tobacco and blowin his nose with one finger and is usually dressed wearin no more than a undershirt and adult diapor. This orange suit of his was a rare treat. In any case i sat there and listened to his danm story.

"ONE DAY WHEN I WAS NIGH YOUR AGE THERE WAS YOUNG LADY IN MAH TOWN
WITH WHOM I WISHED TO KEEP COMPANY.

"Granfather," I said...

"DON'T INTERRUPT," said the old basterd.

"SHE WERE NOT MUCH TO LOOK AT, AN' JUST AS ORNERY AS ME. A POORLY
ROMANTIC CHOICE UPON WHICH TO CAST MY GAZE. A STANDARD, I FIGGER
SURELY YOUR OWN MEAGER PROSPECTS WILL SCARCELY SURPASS."

"That's NOT nice Granfather."

"SHUT YER FACE AN' LISSEN, BOY."

"AND SO I WENT OVER THE HOUSE TO MEET WITH HER PAW. ...MAKE A LONG
STORY SHORT, WE LATER HAD RELATIONS IN THE TOBACKY SHED WHICH
RESULTED IN YOUR FATHER BEIN' BORNED, AND SO I WAS FORCED TO JUMP
THE BROOM INTO MATRIMONY-HOOD AT THE POINT OF A LOADED SHOTGUN...
...WHICH I LATER FOUND OUT WAS FILLED ONLY WITH ROCKSALT. I AM
STILL PISSED ABOUT THAT. ANYWAY. ALL'S THAT IS JUST MERELY INCIDENTAL
TO THE GIST OF MAH CAUTIONARY TALE."

"Granfather,..." I said

"INTERRUPT ONCE MORE, AN' I'LL RIP YOUR SPLEEN OUT YER ASS WITH MUH
BAAR HANDS.

SO ANNYWAYS, THAR AT HER PAW'S HOUSE ME AND HIM SAT QUIETLY AT
THE KITCHEN TABLE. I EXPLAINED HOW I WISHED TO KEEP COMPANY WITH
HIS YOUNG'UNN."

Grannfather paused and took a long drag on his Lucky. Fetid blue smoke streammed out of his rubbery crusty nostrils, and in a gesture of instinctive kneejerk rudeness, the old basterd's knobby leathory hands waved the dark puffs of exhaust up toword my face.

"ALL OF A SUDDEN--AND I KNOW YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY B'LEEVE THIS--BUT
RIGHT SETTIN' THAR AT THET TABLE, YOUR OL'GRAMPY DONE DROPPED A FART.

"I WAS REAL EMBARRASSED. BUT, TO BOTH MAH FORTUNE AND SURPRISE, MAH
FUTURE FATHER-IN-LAW GRACIOUSLY AND COURTEOUSLY BLAMED THE SLEEPING
YELLER DOG WHUT WAS CURLED UP THAR UNDER THE TABLE BY OUR FEET.

"'BAD DAWG!' , HE HOLLERED AT THET OLE HOUND. AND HE KICKED
THET OLE HOUND, HARD TOO.

"SO THEN I CONTINUED MY EARNEST SUPPLICATION FOR PERMISSION TO
DATE HIS UNATTRACTIVE YET REPUTATIONALLY AVAILABLE DAUGHTER."

The beastly geezer then took anothor drag on the Lucky, then picked a small green orb from his nose, spied it for a second, then flicked it on my shirt. He contineud with his story.

"BY AND BY, DONTCHA KNOW IT, BUT YOUNG GRAMPY DONE DROPPED ANOTHER
ONE. A SILENT, YET POWERFULLY STRONG CLOUD OF GAS. YOU KNOW HOW I
MAKE 'EM THESE DAYS, NOW, BWAH: JEST IMAGINE WHUT I WAS LIKE IN MAH
YOUTH, AND ALL FULL O'PISS AND VINEGAR.

"THIS TIME MY FUTURE PAW-IN-LAW SAID 'BAD DAWG!' AGINN, BUT NOT AS
LOUD AS HE HAD THE FIRST TIME. AND DON'T YOU KNOW IT, NOT FIVE
MINUTES LATER, I LAYED ANOTHER BOMB. A GAWD-AWFUL, CORN-POPPIN'
STANKY-ASS ONE, I TELL YOU WHUT."

Just then the waitress apeared with our food. There is only one watress in our town who will bring food to Granfather. She is a tough old hag. Her and the old basterd sneered warily at each other for a moment. I think they might of been involved once. Granps finished up the story.

"SAME THING HAPPENED ALL DANM NIGHT: GRAMPY LAYS A DISCHARGE, AND
MY SWEETHEART'S PAW BLAMED THE YELLER HOUND. GRAMPY FARTS--POOCH
GITS SCOLDED.

"FINALLY, I LET THE NASTIEST OL' RIB CRACKER OUT I PROBLY SEEN
THAT DECADE. IT TOOK ELEVEN SECONDS. COUNT THET OUT ON YER WATCH
SOMTIME, BWAH: IT'S A LONG TIME.

"THIS TIME YER GRANDMAW'S DADDY SAID IN A LOW, BUT UNFAILINGLY
POLITE TONE THAT HE WERE REAL SORRY ABOUT THET DAWG AND WON'T I
PLEASE FORGIVE THEM BOTH. WE THEN CONTINUED IN THE PLEASANTRIES
CONCERNING MY PROSPECTIVE COURTSHIP OF THE YOUNG LADY WHEN AFTER
TWO OR THREE MORE FOUL DISCHARGES FINALLY THE ELDER MAN LEAN'T
SIDEWAYS AND LOOKED UNDER THE TABLE TO ADDRESS THE POOR SHIVERING
HOUND DIRECTLY, "DAWG, YOU'D BETTER GIT YO' ASS OUT FROM THAR
'FORE THIS HEAH UGLY BOY DONE UP AN' CRAPS ALL OVER YOU."

By now I was exasporated. I cannot stand his danm stories.

Somwhere in this tale he is tryin to give me advice.