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Sailing to a sucessful IPO. (Well, no not realy).

The Novembor 1998 Update

Page 5 of 6


A desicion is made

The dumbass counselor actualy allowed the female H. Ros Perrot to be part of the session. She said that she coud sence allot of "neggative vibes" toword the old basterd, and to be fair, woud allow Granp's hag bitch ladyfreind if only for morol suport.

Ecxuse me! Parden Me! ICE MAN comin through!"

Granfather grinned in agreement. It wasnt realy a grin becuase he's incapable of smiling it was sort of this skeletal grimace of aproval. The exact expresion that is on the face of that prehistorric 4,000 yearold half frozon Ice Man those skiers found a few years back in the Austrion Alps. In fact I lator found out that they way my brothor even snuck the basterd on the plane on their way to Hollend was to prettend that Granfather actuoly was the danm Ice Man. The color and textoure of his danm flesh is ecaxtly the same as his anyway.

The session starts

The first thing we did was all go arround the room and introduce ourselfs, and to present what we thoght were Major Isseus for that day's session. For each Major Isseu broght up, the counselor wrote it down with a big red majic marker on a giant pad on an easel in front of the room. But beffore she wrote it down, she had to repeat it real loud like we were a bunch of danm 5 yearolds. For exampol, one of my Major iseues was, "Cleans ears and nose with car keys and wipes it my toothbrush." And so aftor I announced this one, she read it off, "GOOD! Cleans ears and nose..." ...as if we are a bunch of lame brains who cannot remmember what we just said. I cant stand these anoying counselors. In about 5 minutts time, she was on the 17th page of Major Isseus for the session. And in case you tried to guess, all 100% of the Major issues were all Granfather related. (And by the time you got to page 12 of the 17, the Session Leader put a moratorrium on Adittionol Issues which were odor, hygiene and/or ass related).

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.

What was wrong with Zeke.

Poor uncle Zeke to begin with is big stooping and lumberring. While Granfather is skinny and little, Zeke has a huge frame and what with his giant surfboard feet and big square head and clomping gait is somwhat Frankonstein like, especialy I guess when he wears a sports jackat.

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.

My turn to speak.