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November can mean only one thing:

the Septembor 1999 Update

Page 6 of 6

Diagnozis: Evil

They poked, prodded and X-rayed the recalcitrant monster. They tried to find the reason why he was feeling so worned out, and what coud be done to help him. Not that anyone cared about Granfather. As an unexplianed biophenomena, it was only in the interest of sceince.

All thruoghut the exam Granfather made rude noises and said lascivius things to the doctor. Also awful jokes and voices. Granfather can do lots of anoying voices and contourt his face like its made of rubber. It is like living with a devil that is posessed by Robin Willaims. At one point he began doing the voice of that loneley guy Mike, who in the movie Fargo is Police Oficer Marge Gundersen's old pittiful freind with the half japanese half Minesota accent who she meets for lunch in the Radison, "You such special brootiful lady! I am so ronely! So ronely! Boo-hoo-hoo!"

If you saw the movie you knoew the scene.

Our fears are reallized

Examinning Granfather's chest showed that the old coot was undor allot of thoracic stress, (probly from powerfull crapping and farts). The diagnosies was that he was to imediatly refrain from any stressfull activities. Othorwise the strain coud actualy kill the old medicol anomaly.

Heartless beast

I have wrote in prior updates in the Spring of 1998 abbout a remarkable medicol discovery regarding the old basterd. You see, Granfather does not have a heart. Literaly. There are no veins or blood eithor. Instead there are voids and channols in his chest that carry thick gloppy nutritive circulatory goo, sort of like how insects respirate.

Have you ever sqaushed a bug and saw that green glop? Well inside Granfather it is reddish and takes the place of blood. Exept instead of being iron based like blood it is sulfur based. (That explains some of his awfull odor. Yes, I know. Its scary and appalling and horrenddous but thats what you get with Granfather.)

Now, why is it red? This goo is not iron based and sulfur of cource is yellow. Well, sceintists beleive that the red color in his blood comes from putrid rotting algae, like you get with "red tide" on the Gulf coast.

In any case the walls of those walls and channols were old and worn and ready to burst if he strained himself.

Well Granfather did not like this news about havin to not strain himself.

His lip trembling a bit he swalowed hard, blinked his third eyelid across his reptilian gaze and cleared his throght with a repulsive jellylike noise.

"GIVE IT TO ME STRAIGHT, DOC. I KNOW I CAIN'T STRAIN MUHSELF. BUT HOW'S MUH LOVE LIFE LOOK?"

"Assuming he can get any," I added, to which the old basterd retourted, "SHUT UP, BWAH!"

The doctor, her too tryin to hold back her vomit looked at the floor and explained in mattor of fact terms that Granfather was NOT to engage in any type of intimate rellations. As the doctor spoke in low deliberate tones, Granfather sat and staired silently at her as he soaked in her words. His jaw dropped, and stonelike he sat, moulth agaipe in a way that only his two lower fangs coud be seen.

Pittiful, heartbrokon and shocked, the glum expresion on his face looked exactly as I woud imagine woud appear on that of Koko, the famous Sign Langauge Capable gorilla, upon being told by her trainer that her favorite rubber ball that she used to play with every day had just irretrievably rolled down into the danm storm drain and woud never be seen agian.

The old basterd started screamin.

It was absolutley hideouos. Like Pacino, going balistic and howling at the end of Godfather III on the steps of the Opora House after Frances Ford Coppela's daughtor who was foolin arround with Andy Garcia gets wacked. (You know Pacino's been pourin it on a bit heavy these past few years -- exept Granfather was not acting).

In any case but do you remembor a few pages back when I wrote about how ill natured hes been. Well this is why. Yes he knew that this woud be the diagnosis. To calm him down they had to restrain him with leathor straps. Then they called a coupel of big athlettic security guards and along with the big nurse fella we all take him off the naugohyde table which was now badly stained and put him on anothor table which was made of stainless table and he began bucking and thrashing even more. Do you know when you bring a sick animol to the vet and there claws scrambol and scratch on the table furiously, well it was like that. Plus he was howling and kicking and he was drooling and his ass was sortof leaking. The whole scene was extremly disgousting. And then he started wailing. We all knew what it was he wanted: cohabittation with a woman, preferrably one of his own species, howevor, being that the old basterd is biologicaly unique as a human/ape/insecticidol/reptile hybrid, a human woud have to do. But the doctor was dead set agianst it. "If you strain yourself in the manner of sexaul activity, you could die instantley," she said.

"BUT THET'S WHUT I WANT!" he creid.

"I ALWAYS WANTED TO LIVE LIKE A ROCKEFELLER. AT LEAST LET ME DIE LIKE ONE! BWAH-HAH-HAAA!"

This time i dont think he was fake crying.

The doctor then took me aside and told me that I was to keep the old basterd away from women, prostitutes, pornograhgpy of any and every kind, including the Victoria's Secret cattalog, and this also meant the all internet access, even the newsgroups.

I was to insted sit him infront of the TV. On doctor's orders, the only shows he was alowed to watch were The Antiques Road Show and absolutly anything on CBS.

Granfather morosely sat in the Acounts Payable office when I finished up the paperwork. Usualy he is a travelling symphoney of grunts snorts and belches but this time he just sat there. The only sound that coud be heard was the radio on the casheir's desk. The radio told of a news bulettin about how some man's antique hot rod was attacked and vandolized at a local Mini Mart by what apeared to be a deranged lunatic wearin a monstrous hotdog orange colored rubber Haloween mask.

After all that...

After all that, Granfather had actualy forgot to produce a urine sample. They were so disgousted with him that they made him go downstairs to the lab to drop it off himself. In the elevator the old basterd wordlessley staired ahead. Good thing it was only 2 floors down cause being in an ellevator with the old basterd for more than 3 minutes conpletely depletes the oxegin in there and you will choke to death.

You dont ever want to be in an elevater with Granps.

If you are not used to it your skin will crawl from the shear horrer of bein close to him. Plus the release of toxic heavy metol molecules into a confined space from his naturolly ocurring stench will actualy reek havoc with the ellectricol system - nothing major, like the elevater breakin down between floors; howevor dont be supprised if all the lights on the panel light up from those stinking metallic airborne particols shorting out the circiuts and you have to stop on every freakin floor.

"YOU KNOW, BWAH," he said breakin the silence, "I REALY WERE KIDDIN' ABOUT THET 'MISTER HAPPY' STUFF BEFORE..."

I said, "I know Granfather, and if you bring it up agian I will put it on my webpage."

Well dont you know it the old basterd woudnt stop bringin it up and so here it is.

After ten minutes in the bathroom the old basterd emerged carreying a large plastic bed pan which he gripped in his claws. The bed pan was entirely filled to the very top with urine in a way that the liqiud appeared to protrude a quartor inch above the rim the way liqoid sometimes does. It wobboled and sloshed and apeared as if it woud spill but Granfather has amazing dexterrity.

"HERE'S MUH SAMPLE!" he crowed.

The old basterd has a disgussting detestable sence of humor. He walked extremy slow with it as not to spill a drop. It was the brightest color yellow you can immagine. Even more yellower than that fake powdered chickon soup that comes in the foil pack. Slowly he advanced to the countor and rested it on the counter of the lab reception.

"I BROUGHT THIS IN ALL THE WAY FROM HOME!", he boasted.

The guy behind the countor asked, "You drove here with that?"

The old basterd replyed, "NO YUH DUMBASS, I TOOK THE DANM BUS."

Granfather is not only a grisly freakish non-human monstrosity he is a pain in the ass. With an insaciable compulsion to annoy other species. Like the one you and me bellong to.

Not a fun drive home.

The whole danm way home the old basterd bitched and moaned about this new disapointing diagnoasis: No intimate rellations. Also Granfather taunted me cruelley.

"AS USUAL, BOY, YOU KIN EXPECT ME TO TAKE THIS OUT ON YOU."

SO LOOK FOWARD TO BEIN' PICK ON, HARANGUED, AND GENERALLY ABUSED PHISICALY, MENTALLY, AND MOST OF ALL, ODORIFEROUSLY.

..."'TAIN'T NUTHIN' PERSONAL, MIND YOU....
" 'COURSE, IT'S STRICTLY BUSINESS, Y'UNNSERSTAND.
"...AND THE SIMPLE FACT THET YER SO DANM BUTT UGLY, I CAIN'T HEPP IT."

Well living with the old basterd even if he smelt OK is bad enuogh. I have such a pittiful existence that I allmost canot wait to get to work to get abused if only with a change of scenery.

Like I said the next updat shoudnt be all that far off. Thanks so muct to my readers for hangin in there and havin faith in me to come back even thuogh I am a jerk who canott get his danm updates done on time.

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