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Strong enuogh for a man, but made for the Internet.

April 1998 Update

Page 8 of 8


The old bastord then had a few drinks and this loosened him up enuogh to talk about why earlior that morning he had left the dentists office withuot being treated. It seems that he was in the waiting room reading a Smithsonian Magazine while Junior, who had drove him, busied himself with a stack of Highlights Magzine for Childron; (the puzzles are too hard for him, but Junoir does enjoy the "Goofus and Gallent" featture.)

Sudenly Granfather read somthing in Smithsonien that made him start screamming. It seems that in one articol on peoplle who rescue baby animols, there was a referrence to someone named "Judy" who was nursing some poor baby beaver to health. When i mean 'nursing' she actualy let the danm rodent suckle human milk from her. Granfather says that as soon as he read that he sprang up from his seat and started screammin at the recepptionist about how disgousting this was and also "inapropriate reading materiol for a family dentol practice."

Oh, Puh-LEEZE

This is a man who the last time he had his teeth cleanned the dentist collapsed and fainted after seeing what was stuck in his awfull teeth because the old bastord used to lay on his belly out in the yard with his toungue rolled out into the dust and wait for a scorpion to walk by to sting it, and when it did he woud snap it in his moulth and excliam, "HMM! CRUNCHY ON TH' OUTSIDE -- CHEWY ON TH' INSIDE!"

In any case Granfather made such a violant screamming a scene that they threw his ass out of there.

"ANIMALS! SOME FOLK ACT LIKE DANM ANIMALS I TELL YUH!", Granfather screammed while poundin the table in the restaurrant with a gnarled fist, and with his voice still all mysterriously muffled, as the plastic molded owl atached to his cranium with zinc spikes swung and bounced along with the self-righteuos bobbing and wagging of his small capacity-sized, crustey, pin-brained head.

"FOLKS ORTA ACT LIKE HUMANS, DAMMIT!"

Warning: This is gross

By now my readers are used to my intorjecting of the oficial Walter Miller's Hompage(TM) "warnings" into varrious places, in case you are eating while reading. Folks, if we who devellop content on the web cannot police ourselves, then we shoudnt be supprized if Congress and locol decency laws come arround to shut us down.

In that vain, please acept that the very next parragrapgh after the one you are reading right now will have a rating of "6" on the patented Granfather(R) Disgustingness Scale of one to 10. Please skip ovor this if your rating tolorence maxes out at about "3" or "4". Also, be forewarned that lator on, on this same page there will be a danm "8 and a half," so alls I can say is for Godsake pace yourselfs.

The item causing the muffoling of the bastard's normaly unstilted croaking voice was one of those large urinol "mints", which most men in industrealized nations know are those big white hard tablet-shaiped lemony-smelling deodorizor things lookin like a giant Mentos candey which are placed on a plastic screen in the bottem of public restroom urrinals -- that, Granfather, sick monstor that he is, had fished out of the piss trap and put in his danm moulth. As he openned his mouth (while we sat at the table eating for cryin out loud), the disgousting opalescent rounded disc slid off of his cobralike forked, normally blackish-purpley colored, warty, blister-pimpled tounge, then dropped from his slobbery lips leaving a stringy trail of drool, only to land onto the the egde of the Buffalo china plattor, which below him held the Pot Roast Speciel he had ordered with a loud cerramic sounding minty clink. And aftor landing on its edge, the horrible pearly urinal tablet rolled across the checkorboard design tablecloth, up an impromptu ramp made by a buttar knife which was leanning on a saucer, then right down into the little gravy volcanoe of Uncle Zeke's mash potattoes.

"Git that dawg off my lawn!" Uncle Zeke hollared.

I had to ask Granfather: "Why did you do it...Just tell me WHY."

His answor to me was what Commander Chakotey told Captain Janeway abuot the legend of the scorpion in Startrek Voyager: IT'S JUST MY NATURE," he said with a satanic hideuos grin. For a man who Ive seen EAT scorpiens, i am not supprized.

Uncle Zeke took his napkin from arround his neck and threw it on the table. "Ive had it with you you little scoundrol," he bellowed, and he is not a man who ofton raises his voice.

BIG mistake: MORE of the English acent

I dont know if it is from all of those Wieght Watchers commerciels with Fergie, or else the fact that his British car bumpor crown is on his mind allot lateley. But whatevor it is, Granfather sure does do that fake English accent allot recently. And to get back at Uncle Zeke, (and also to have some diabollicol fun with him), Granfather started in on this awfull routine that he first develloped over 30 years ago to houmiliate his older brother in public.

"So is THIS what it comes to, Heathcliff?" said Granfather extremmly loud in this affected, trembling, and rathor effemminate English voice that sounded allot like Kathorine Hepburn exept it was more British and had only abbout half of the quavering.

"I LOVE you, Heathcliff...I simply LUFF you, you silly daft fool," Granfather creid in a very swishy, womanlike way while dabbing his eyes like a propor lady.

"Shut the hell up, you consarn durned fool," Uncle Zeke growled as he hunkored his large frame low in his seat, clearley in enbarrasment of the bastord's antics which were now atracting the attention of all the othor people in the resuarant.

Granfather knew he was makking a scene.

The malignent monster kept yammoring on in this purposely effeminate and overly flambuoyant trilling effete monnologue about "Romantic nights on the moor and walking tendorly hand-in-hand along Brighton," all of which aparantly dont mean nothing no more to poor "Heathcliff". Granfather then started weeping "Oh, Dear! Oh, Dear!" like one of the little old Montey Python ladies.

This is a sick bastord.

This is a mean man. This is a cruel beast who earlior on was making brutol callous fun of ME for not being manly enuogh when the sad part of a movie was on and also having lunch with a coupol of females in the diner.

Uncle Zeke, clearley mortified with humilliation, finaly raised up his wall-eyed dull witted face and grunted out to anyone who coud hear, "This here is muh danm fool half-brother," and when he overheard someone on the othor side of the restuarant say somthing about "two consenting adults", then Zeke jumped out of his chair, which tipped ovor behind him, and stormed out of the place in big clomping steps. As soon as he was out the door Granfather shreiked in ammusement like a rooster on black cofee and crack coccaine that the farmer acidentaly just stepped on his chickeny foot as he walked by.

"THET THAR SPURNED ENGLISH LOVER ROUTINE ALWAYS PUTS A BLUSH ON HIS BIG OL' FACE," he cackoled.

In the parking lot

Granfather wheeled out to catch up to where Zeke was plodding back toword the car. The bastord jumped out of his wheelchair and stumboled after his much larger brothor on his skinny wobbly legs. In his hand was a raggedy old umbrela he had took with him from home.

Here is that "8 and a half" Disgoustingness Rating I mentionned before: Please considor yorself warned.

Granfather poked the tip of the unbrella to pick up somthing limp and light colorred which layed in the grass along the egde of the parking lot.

"LOOKY HERE, ZEKEY," Granfather excliamed in his Texas accent which sudenly returned, "I DONE FOUND ME SOME FRESH PRAIRIE WHITEFISH!"

I also happan to know that to certian low class peoplle like Granfather it is also called "Oklahoma whitefish", and in Oklohoma its known as "Texas whitefish." Civilized peopple like you and me know it as a used and presumabley discarded latex item which is distribbuted by school nurses with or withuot the consent of parents for the use of contraseption and also the control of sexaully transmitted disease.

Like a swarshbuckling sword fightor, Granfather dextrously waved and whipped the unbrella arround, fluttering the sharp steel tip, (and what was speared onto the tip), right in Uncle Zeke's face, who tried to clumsily avoid it in his slow clomping mannor of pitching foward and stumbling backword on his large heavy shuffling feet.

Finaly my poor uncle fell right on his giant flat ass. The bastord held the umbrela tip right to his nose. A huge crowd asembled, thinking that Granfather woud flick the thing into Zeke's fright filled face, but insted, Granfather reached his wizened claw into his shirt.

Behold: The pot metol crown

"Reckonize THIS big brother?" he said, while dangolling it in the air from the cord around his neck.

Zeke spied the item, sparked up with new strentgh, then hopped up to his feet, grunting, "I want that thar crown!, while both of his extremly long arms streched out in front of himself like Frankanstein as he treid to grab it. Meannwhile at the same time, Granfather kept him at bay with the wiggling revulsive white thing, which he flapped around dangerousley close to Zeke's face with the umbrela.

Like a circus lion trainer with a woodon chair in one hand a a whip in the othor, Granfather made his bumbling eldorly brother dance for him in a gruesome morbid clumsy spectocle, while luaghing his skinny slimy ass off in maniacol evil mirth.

How we finaly put an end to Granfather's antics

Many thanks to Tickboy in Ohio, one of my readers who wrote in a good sugestion not long ago -- he said that whenevor Granfather suffers from extreme constippation that we ought to use one of those seddative dart guns, like they use on large land mammals. Reason being, that most annimal's bowols always spontanneously relax after gettin darted. So I ran to the payphone, and made the call: Not to 911, and not to the Sherrif -- But to County Animol Control.

The vehicle arived within minuts

I was concerned that during the mesmerizing dance Granfatther had him doing undor his evil svengali-like controle, Uncle Zeke woud trip and crack his head open on the pavement. Also i was worreid that the danm "whitefish" woud land on him, or perhapps one of the gawking onlookers and then cause us to get sued agian. But also i was worried for Granfather. If there evor was an animol out of control, it was him right this moment. He needed to be put down with a dart. (He needed to be put to permonent sleep, but that was annothor matter.)

Also, he needed to loose his danm bowols, because his misery was spillin out onto others -- and at this point, havin the reeking bastord spill his gut, (even in public) was a top priorrity. Like i said, Granfather is normally hard to get along with when he is goingto the bathroom normolly. When he's "bound" for more than 12 days, the bastord is insufforable.

The Animal Control lady snuck behind the flailing beast, held the rifle to her shouldor, and fired the giant festive looking red feathor tailed dart thru the air, which was tipped with an 18-guage needle filled with diluted sodium pentothol.

It hit Gramps in the ass

It was knobby, gristly ass meat, but his ass none the less, and just abbove the rim of his low-riding adult diaper. A weak smile spread on Granfather's pestillent face, becuase he knew imediatly upon being hit, he knew that in that last instent he had left beffore falling unconscious, that, NOW, FINALLY he woud be able to go to the bathroom. His trembling skinney monkeylike arm, tremboling violently, tore off the diapor taped to his emaciated scraggly ass, and with his last breath beffore blacking out from the drug, Granfather dove headfirst right into the open window of Uncle Zeke's all-originol showroom condition 1963 Pontiac Cattalina that has just 11,000 miles on it.

"NOOOOOooooo!"

Thats what my Uncle howled while droppin to his knees.

By the way the "thing" on the top of the unbrella that the bastord was waving arround flung thruogh the air, was sudenly lifted along by a hot west wind, sailed downword, and landed 100 feet away smack onto eyeglasses of the County Clerk who was just steppin out of his car as to have supper in the same restuarant.

Of cource the beastly troll faces new charges of assault agianst the County Clerk, who as Ive mentionned in the past is Granfather's nemesis. Becuase the thing flew in the air on what he hopes to prove was "an unseasonnable west wind," the old bastord will plead "INNOCENT BY MEANS OF EL NINO."


I WILL END THIS UPDATTE HERE.

THERE WILL BE ANOTHOR ONE TOWORD THE END OF APRILL SO STAY TUNNED.

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