Sailing to a sucessful IPO. (Well, no not realy).
Page 5 of 6
Finaly we got to the actuol discussion part. Uncle Zeke spoke first. Like i said he looked like hell. We were all alotted five minutes to speak, and at the end of it all, Granfather was supossed to respond.
Also he has scars on his face.In my Fall '97 Wedgie Page Update I wrote about a disfigouring attack and surgical reattachment involving Zeke's face and Granfather's jaws, when Granps was six years old. Well in adition to that scar, there is another scar on the left side of his head, also caused by Granfather, and this is what was all swollon and covored with the bandage.
Here is how that wound originally hapenned: There was an armed dispute when Granfather was 12 years old. Zeke who is ten years oldor than him acused the old basterd (who in those days was known as the Little Basterd) of stealing cigaretes from him and so he whupped his little scaly ass with a leathor barber stropp.
In those days Zeke drove an an extremly ugly automobbile called a 1946 Henry J. Kasior, that Granfather took a coal shovol and filled it up with fresh horse whacky from the stable and packed it down hard. Zeke in his fury pinned his scraggly devil half-brother's shirt to the side of the barn with a pichfork while the Little Basterd was still wearin it. Granpy chewed his way to freedom then got the shotgun and aiming for between his eyes forgot the thing veareed to the left and so blowed off a peice of Uncle Zeke's left skull the size of half a Brownsville grapefriut.
With half his danm brains leakin out uncle Will had to tak Zeke to the hospitol and he woud of took the hay wagon but of course also sittin there was a batter choice that went allot faster: The car filled with horse crap.
When they were halfway to the hospital poor Zeke, now in the backseat of the Kaiser had sunk in two foot deep in it and was suffocatting. They had to save him fast.
The '46 Henry J. also had this wierd thing abuot it that the doorlocks for the back seat were located inside the car, not on the outside door. So they had to bust the thruogh the windows with an ax to get poor giant gangly Zeke out of it.
Across the road was an old guy who used to make steam boilers and so he quickley fitted a metol plate onto his head and stretched the scalp skin way down ovor the wound. (And this is why today Zeke has to shave more than most men and to this day pays a dollor extra for a haircut.)
The only problom was that copper leaches ovor the years and so in the last decade or so the vains on the side of his head which normolly shoud be a little blue are sort of sage tinged and the whites of one of his eyes is the color of a green Eastor egg. Yes it freaks peopple out but he canot help it.
I appollogize for this roundabbout backround story, but in any case, right now, here in this counciling session Uncle Z's old wound was now bleeding somthin awful undor a giant bandege. He shared with the group why: in a long painstakking plodding monotone he recounted how Granfather, (during the time i was in New Yorkcity and they remained in the hotel in Newark) had somehow gotton a hold of some power tools (that the evil basterd stole from a maintenence lockor in the hotel basement) and lator on during a fistfight between the two brothors back in their hotel room planted a six-sided three eihgths inch stove bolt thru the skin to his brothors headplate. And aparently it still was there.