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Picking up where we left off in the last updatte, Granfather's two older brothers, Uncle Wiliam and Uncle Zeke have been visitting us from the East Coast. They planned to stay only abbout 2 or 3 days but they will now be here atleast till the end of May because Zeke has three court dates in two sepparate counties involving arrests rellated to two public disturbences and one count of Atempted Murder that we hope will be plea bargianed down to a domestic disturbence. Please do not think my Uncle is a truoble-maker he is actualy a mild-mannored if not gruff man who allways obeys the law. The problem is with Granfather, who has started all the fights.
Uncle Wiliam is very ill and is close to death and his lungs cannot tollerate how bad Granfather smells. He was in a motel to begin with but then got moved to a hospitol. People somtimes think I make up how bad Granfather stinks but I am not. Uncle Zeke howevor is still sleeping in my room while I am in the rollaway in the living room.
Please, do not tell me i have a disfunctionnol family: I already know.
Next, you drain the cheese oil in a No-Stick pan and flop the vulcanized cheese flapjack on top of it and cook the broiling dairy disk on a high flaime till its all black. You are suposed to use chedder cheese: My misteak was buying hard Locatelli grating cheese which has allot less oil, plus 8 or nine minutes in the nuker just makes it dry and fluffy. By the time i got it onto the pan, it bubboled out and ruined the glass quartz top of the stove and dribboled ovor the egde onto the door of the dishwashor.
Of cource I got blamed for this. Granfather is especialy angry becuse no restuarrants in our area serve freid cheese.
Uncle Zeke saw him there and imediatly ran out of the trailor in his long loping steps out to one of the far sheds mabye 500 yards from the propperty to get a heavy coal shovel to beat the back of Granfather's head with, while the prone sub-human bastord remmained on his knees and stuck to the enamoled surface of the kitchon appliance.
Uncle Z. is not too bright, becuase along that 500 yard trail to that far shed there are many heavy imploments, and in fact you pass two sheds full of tools. But my Uncle lator told me that he saw that old coal shovol there 30 years ago, and so he went striaght for it while ignorring the othor stuff and nearley gave himself a heart atack becuase he is like 74 years old and shoudnt run so far and hard on his gargatuon spindly legs. He stumboled back into the trailor on his huge clumsey feet heaving and wheezing, "Here's muh chance to kill thet ol' varmint haint."
A 'haint' is a Texas dialect word for a ghastley monstor. It is a good diallect word because that is what Granfather is. Uncle Zeke leant his heel on the top of the shoval blade, fixing the bottom edge of it on the back of Granfather's neck, wedging it between two of his proto-saurian neck vertabrays, and he leaned and pitched foword with all his ungainley weight, and at least sixty years of pent up brotherly hate.
Granfather's nose and moulth were clogged with massed molton cheese and so he coudnt scream, howevor he was able to breathe thruogh his rudimentery gill slits behhind his ears, and saliva and mucus and blowing air errupted out of the scaly fishlike slant-shaiped openings. Uncle Zeke was gasping and hollaring that he was going to sevor Granfather's head with the shovel, and then put it in a glass pickol jar.
Well, that is exactly what hapenned. The phone started ringing.
The Countey Clerk had been warned by his own attorny that he, (the Clerk) shoud not call Granfather directly, but only the lawyers shoud -- but the County Clerk is so filled with vituperrous rage agianst Granfather that he cannot help himself from callin up to hollar and scream.
In any case, when he called, the speakorphone picked up, and he heard Zeke bellowing, "I aim to cleave yer golldang head clean off yer carcass with this here coal shovol you little sumbitch," and so he assumed that it was Granfather screamming about killing ME. And so the County Clerk disspatched the Sheriff to our house.
Alls the poor Clerk kept saying ovor and over was:
I had nevor beffore seen an elected oficial at the county level cry beffore, until that day. Evor since the arrest of my Uncle, the Clerk is now workin like crazy to get the charges dismissed agianst Zeke, and he even posted bail and is paying his lawyor fees.
His hope: That aftor the chardges are dropped, Zeke will indeed murder the sonnoffobbich.
""STUCK TO AN APPLIANCE? BEEN THERE, DONE THAT," said the grisly old geezer.
"REMEMBER BOY, T'WERE ONLY LAST THANKSGIVING WHEN THET THAR WHIRLPOOL HOT TUB WERE STUCK ON MUH LEFT NUT."
"THIS HERE I COUD LIVE WITH," said Granfather.
"NOW GIT THEM WIRE SNIPS AND SHEET METAL SHEARS, AN' POP YER GRANFATHER SOME EYE HOLES IN THIS HERE THING SO'S I KIN BE ABLE TO WATCH TV, AN' VIEW INTERNET PORN."
Granfather is a sick bastord. As you know from readding my prior updates, he still has that plastic scarecrow owl atached to the upper back part of his head by aluminum spikes drilled into his skull. It towers abbove him more that two feet. The new white zinc dishwashor door panel stuck on Granpy's face obscured all of the plastic owl ecxept the tops of his tufted ears. The maniacal derranged ogre insisted that I also cut eye holes out for the danm owl too.
"WELL, MISTER COUNTY CLERK," Granfather oozed to him in his most oily, slippory false genial voice, "YOU SAID LAST NIGHT THAT 'YOU HAD ASSUMED'."
"WELL, I TELL YOU WHUT:..."
(I knew what was the next line to come -- I am sure that you know what it is too):
"WHEN YOU ASSUME, YOU MAKE AN ASS OUT OF U AND ME!"
Then Granfather cackled in that evil schreiking laugh that is a cross between the 'Tailes of the Crypt' ghoul and the Wickad Witch of the West in the Wizord of Oz.
After shouting back at the bastord "Get away from my car!", the Countey Clerk added that Granfather was the only one being made an ass of...
...That is, untill the Clerk approached, suddenly realizzing that while old bastord was in that odd standing position with his chin on the roof and snakelike belly pressed agianst the side of the automobile, the beast was urinnating into his gas tank.
Have you evor been so angry that you cant holler, you cant scream, you cant even cry -- but alls you can do is just silently shiver as if you are cold? That is what this poor man did. As he stumbled into the drivers seat, fumbling with his car keys and lookin all clammy and pale, Granfather crouched next to the drivers side window and peered in.
"CAIN'T SEE NO CLOUDS, BUT IT SURE SOUNDS LIKE THUNDER," said Granfather as he wiggled the thin metol sheet atached to his face so it tremboled in a vibrating woopi! woopi! woopi! noise. "I'D SAY ITS EL NINO, YESIREE,"