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I will spell right on the day that evveryone on the Web makkes a proffit.

April 1998 Update

Page 6 of 8


Uncle Zeke finaly calmed down, and after he took a leak we sat down at the kitchon table to eat some fresh fruit and cookies I bouhgt the other day. It is amazing: One minute they are screamming that they will kill each other. The next they will be talkin about somthing else very calmly. Oddley, in no time the two brothors were sharing a coupol of Jamacan cigars and some ice tea having a superficial yet totaly cordial convorsation about how good the Baltimore Orioiles did in the opening week of baseball and also gee-whizzing on all those Oscors Titanic won. My uncle lives by the shore but the closest big city to him is Baltomore. On visits, Granfather has been throuwn out of the old Baltomore stadium sevoral times, but never the brand new one.

The phone rings

It was Junior calling. As Granfather took the call, Uncle Zeke moved his big wood carved looking face close to mine and whispored some harsch words at me. Zeke is normaly a little gruff to begin with but this time he seemed especialy pissed becuase I had told him on the phone Friday night that the old bastord woud still be at the dentist when he arrived.

"Why wuz your nasty ol' Granpap here an' not at the dentist? Tell me, boy!" he hissed. But I did not have an answor for him. He glowered at me with these large grey eyes which realy cant stare straihgt at you because they are both the sort of eyes that look in opossite directions. Just like that actor who played the proctollogist in the CannonBall Run films.

Granfather hung up the phone and said that Junior was coming by to drop off his bottom tooth plate which he left in Junior's car. (Oh, gross). I asked Granfather why he was late comin back from the dentist and the old gristly ogre barked at me "NONE O'YOUR DANM BUSINESS, BOY."

And then he leanned over and quickley dashed his evil claw into my shirtsleeve to pinch me VERY hard with his danm thumb and index fingornails right in the sensotive area which is below your armpit on your inside uppor arm, the part that never gets suntanned. You know how soft it is and how it hurts like hell. Abusive bastord.

UH-OH!!!! How coud we forget!?

Twentey minuts later Junior drives up and saunters out of his car holding a paper sack at arms lentgth walking very slowley and holding his nose with the othor. He too knows danm full well that you dont want to touch nothin that spends most of its time in Granfather's moulth with your bare hands.

As he tromped up our wobbly porch steps he mumbled to us somthing about, why is there an old Pontiac parked here with a dead albino newborn calf flopped ovor on the back seat: At least it looked like a dead albino newbourn calf, Junior said. Uncle Zeke's normaly dour glum eyes popped open like two dull grey freid eggs.

"Muh brother Willy! He's still in the Garsh Durn car!" he grunted, then pusshed his chair aside and stood up to his full hieght of six-foot-sevon which was not smart because the ceiling of our trailor is sixfoot-six. After banging his massive head he quickley regained balence and then plodded his big stooping long legs across the room to run outside. Granfather treid to trip him so he woud fall and his face woud smash into the cofee table as he lumbered by, but Zeke saw it coming and kicked the bastord hard in the shin as he passed. As Granfather howled in pain I ran outside too as Uncle Zeke pulled his tiny pale gasping dying brothor out of the hot car that had the windows rolled up where he was inside sweatting because he was wrapped in a blanket.

Poor uncle William

Even when he was in good health the oldest living male in my dysfuntionol fammily had a sallow complexion the watery canary color of Post-It notes. But now he was absollutly ghostlike. He looked like just half of a man he was so tiny. Did you evor pull a hermit crab out of his shell and see how extremly soft and fragile that thing on his ass is that loops itself arround the inside? Well this is what he looked like all over. Granfather's leatherey orange-hotdog-skin-like conplexion actualy looked dowright hardy next to him.

Speaking of the unfortunnately healthy old bastord, when Zeke came inside the trailor with his gasping wheezing brother in his arms, Granfather was holding his sore bleading shin with one hand and the portoble phone in the othor, and he hollared at them both saying that he was alredy speed dialing the sheriff as to have Zeke arested for atempted murder for locking poor Uncle Will in the hot car with the windows shut. Once more a giant altarcation and fight seemed like it woud happen.

Fortunatly i was able to calm them all down.

I am a litle ashamed at how i did calm them down. I started crying and then when all 3 of them saw me with tears in my eyes and heard my distruoght voice, they called me a "Sissy" and then told me to shut the hell up. Granfather even said in his haughtey way that he was willing not to fight if only he didnt have to look at me "acting like such an emotionol dagnab fool."

After some cold compresses and a short nap in my room Uncle Williem was able to speak. He said that he wanted me to prop him up at the table to have some freshfruit and ice tea with his brothers. Like i said, in their silent hatred of Granfather the two visiting brothers were rathor civil as they sat there.

And geuss what they talked about

Yes they talked abuot ME.

Granfather started the whole thing in a haughtey way by tellin them that i was "incapable of having male freinds due to a strong Sissy Factor" and that he had coght me earlier that day in a restauarant, in full view of the whole town having "A SISSY ASS, FAGGOTY TEA PARTY WITH HIS GIRLY FREINDS," and that i was the only man at the table, and a man-boy at that, and that my pinkey fingor was stickin out as I delicatly sipped my herbol decaffinatted tea from a fruity lookin teacup that had pink pansies on it while balancing a cream puff on my knee with a lace doiley.

THAT IS A DANM LIE.

I treid to explain to my Uncles that this was NOT the way it hapenned and also i wasnt even drinkin tea. Uncle William then struggoled to tell me in a raspy voice that I oughto, "Learn yourself some manly play, like duck hunting."

Meanwhile Uncle Zeke didnt even say a word becuase this sort of thing realy disgusts him. Yes, he didnt belive my excuse either, and still belives somthin that is not true: That i am a sissy. Well danm it i am not.

I was so pissed off that I stomped off into my room and played DOOM on my computer while cranking the speakkers real loud. I actualy like playying Quake better, but the noises on DOOM are more disgussting and macho. Besides, i felt like shooting somthing.

Uncle Zeke walked by on his way to take anothor leak. He has problems with his prostrate and is allways peeing. He stuck his head in the door at the sound of the wild DOOM monster growls and said to me, "Them noises sound like yer Granmpa passing a stone."

My feelings were hurt

For the rest of the aftornoon, Granfather, my uncles and Junior set up the card table in the living room smokkin cigars and drinkin Wild Turky and branch water out of jelly glasses while playing Risk and watching CNN. You nevor want to play Risk with Granfather becuase he allways wins. (Cheating bastord). Also he allways refers to the countries on the Risk board by rude names. For exampol, "Irkutsk" becomes "Eye Crust" and "Yakutsk" becomes "Yak Excrement". No one laughes at his jokes ecxept himself. He is a disgousting rude man.

My feelings were hurt becuase at one point i wanted to join the game but they said that no one else coud fit at the card tabble. Then when i sat on the couch they said I was blocking the TV. So I stomped back off to my room.

All the men seemed to be having a good time. There was one small argumment when CNN aired the story about how President Clinton ate a Catholic Communion wafer in that church in Africa when he wasnt suposed to, becuase he is a Baptist. None of us are eithor Cathollic or Babptist yet evoryone had an opinion about it. Granfather said they shoud leave Clintin alone because it was a honest misteak.

Uncle Will (who, along with Zeke is a Republicon, while Granfather is a Democrat), said that, "The President has no self controle around neither food nor big-haired wimmen," and also said that its no suprize he ate that Communnion wafor because, "A man like Clinton woud eat a danm peice of baloney tied on a stick right during the State of the Unoin Adress if somone so much as jiggled it in front of his fat bulb nose."

I was inside my room and I laughed at what he said and Granfathor hollered out, "YOU EAVESDROPPIN' ON US, BOY?"

Alls i wanted was to be part of the convorsattion. Moments of freindly accord in our family are about as common as Granfather bathing. (And lately, takking a crap). I know i shoudnt keep conplaining about myself and my feelings. I know I have to GET WITH IT and also get my life togethor and start being mature.

Sudenly Granfather made anothor awful giant fart. The whole trailor rumbled and cracked like it was made of Legos. Uncle Willaim shook with agony and looked like he was gonna die. Outside in the yard, prickley pear cactus pods exploaded like giant kernols of popcorn. As soon as the sonic boom disapeared in the distence, Granfather began hollering in frustrattion that he still coudnt go to the bathroom aftor all this time -- despite the fact that he sure as hell did have more than enuogh "fumes and percussion" coming out.

"I FEEL LIKE I SWALLERED THE DANM INTERNET," said the gassy old basterd. "ALL HYPE AND NO CONTENT."

The havoc finaly subsides