"There is something wonderfully perverse about the Web. It rewards a kind of cranky honesty while eviscerating the insincere and calculating, no matter how slick the presentation."
-- Michael S. Malone in Fast Company.
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Then the car wash man said "SO WHAT: Your not payin for it."
Granfather claims, that he just noticed for the first time, that whether you get the hot wax or not, the car still pauses for exactley TEN SECONDS.
The car wash man started gettin nervous. Granfathor screamed at him that iregardless of whether you pay the buck-fifty or not, or wether the sirens and lights go off, YOUR STILL GETTIN THE WAX CAUSE HE HAS SOME IN HIS FRIGGIN TEETH RIGHT NOW. Plus he was going there 20 years and was gettin ripped off on the wax all that time.
The mans knees buckoled and he atcually peed in his pants in fear.
When we got to the place the old beast was in a surley mood. They had this cheezy bannor made in fake Cirrillic writing that said:
TRAPPED IN THE EARTH FOR 3 DECADES!
MEET THE AMAZING VLADIMIR! JUST 50c!
"I hope you can speak SOME Russian," the carnivol manager said to Granfather when we arrived.
"KISS MY RED COMMIE ASS," the old bastord rettorted. I took some mascara and painted a moustashe and a tiny goatee on his chin in the shape of a pointy upsidedown triangle so he looked like Lenin. The carnie had a few fake Russian militery medals too and I pinned them to the hairy thatch of the old geezer's bucking heaving scraggley torso. The first peopple who came into the tent were realy grossed out. Granfather grinned at them and said "IT SHURE IS MORE UGLIER'N YOU'D THOUGHT, AIN'T IT?"
I tried to tell the custommers in my best fake Russain accent: "Politburou ees steel not sure eef Vladimir is truly MAN, or else dat MONKEY we sent up."
"SOMEONE GIT OFF THERE ASS AN' GIT ME SOME BORSCHT AN' PUT SOME WHISKY--UH, I MEAN, PUT SOME VODKA IN IT, GARRLDANGIT" he yelled. And later when a little kid tried to take his picture Granfather snarled shakking violently and made him cry. "I WAS BURIED 30 YEARS!" he screamed. "BUT IN THE FUTURE WE WILL BURY YOU!!"
Also he was laying a few realy bad farts. They were the silent kind and Granfather gave me a sad look at one point and wistfulley said somthing to me like, "I DONT KNOW WHUT IT IS BOY. MUH INTESTINOLS JEST AIN'T GOT NO 'PERCUSSION' TODAY." i said to him IT DOSENT MATTER Granfather, it smells like a mastodon or somthin crawled up his ass and died so hes more than makking up for it. An old womon fained, and the resin glue keeping the fake head on the Two Headed Calve melted from the intense stench and it fell off. Good thing no one saw or else they woud of got there money back.
At the reqeust of the womon taking tickets for the freak tent, i got some foam core and a majic marker and made two signs and put them on two easels one on eithor side of the old bastords rolling cage. One of them said:
THE AMMAZING VLADOMIER SUFFERS
From a painfull condition rellated
To obbsorbing 30 years of Methaine
Thrue the skinn in the wild Swamps
of East Kazzakastan.WE ARE SORRY
The other sign said: NO PIPE OR CIGAR SMOKING IN THIS TENT PLAESE.
Across the midway there was one of those shooting games where you pay to sprey a wator gun into a clowns mouth to fill up a balloon. Well the thruogh the open flap of the tent Granfather, even from his upside down possition was able to shoot a stream of tobbacco juice in a perfect arc over the heads of passersby and into the moulth of the second clown on the left. He popped the baloon each time. The old bastord kept spoiling the game for the customors.