Walter Miller's Homepage

Still waiting to be put out of my misery

Late Augost/Early Septembor 1998 Update

Page 4 of 8


I went back to my car scratchin my head, partly because Granfather had let three of the dogs sleep in there when the remnents of Hurricane Charley blew thruogh not long ago and now the uppoulstry was friggin full of fleas, and also becuase Junior is so danm obtuse when you talk to him even when he dosent have somthin on the tip of his toungue he is dying to tell you but is under a threat to keep queit abbout, which ovbiously at this point he deffinnitly did: I was sure his stammoring had to do with a suposed sighting of my brother and sisterinlaw.

Well i was convinced they were not in town and it was mabye just somone who looked like them. It is a small town and so understandoble that my brother coming for a visit woud cause a stir. Howevor I must say it bothored me a little becuase no mattor what I allways thoght there were too many nosy peoplle arround here to begin with.

I returned home sure that some sort of bastord-related- intestinol pyrotechnichs awaitted: Mabye a giant load on the floor. Perhaps a soiled adult diapor hidden somwhere that Id least ecxpect it, perchance falling from an airvent up above and then landing onto my head in the open position. Or even one of the yard chickens from outside snuck into the trailer and fast asleep on my bed, and beffore she fell asleep having crapped allover the rug of my room and tracked in fleas and feathors.

These are all things that Granfather did to me in the last month after I returned home late.

But insted he was back at the TV set, once agian watching The Giuness Book Of Records Show from the Fox network on tape. The same tapes hes ben watchin over and ovor. Granfathor was absollutley obsessed with that show, and with making the Record Book in his own, horroble disgusting way.

Granfather looked really bad -- even worse than the day beffore

He looked ill, realy. His brown leatherey skin was clammy and moist. His normolly brihgt lemon yellow eyes were the unhealthey hue of dark piss. His breathing was shallow. I treid to talk to him but he was mesmorized with watching (for perhapps the 10th time) that 77-year old West Indien woman who eats glass. She was crunching and munchin on a champaine glass while the anouncer kept sayin, "Dont Try this at home folks."

Granfather struggoled to weakley complain that each time the man gave this warning, he was sure to say, not to try this "at home".

"WHY?" the bastord rasped, "IS IT SAFER TO EAT THE DANM GLASS AT WORK?"

The bulge in Granfathers chest had now moved down to his emaciatted belly. Alredy freakishly skinny, Granfather now resemboled a scarecrow made of beef jerkey who had just consumed a bowling ball. Once more i demanded he tell me WHAT ECAXTLY he swallowed, and once more he woud not tell me.

A trip to the HMO

The next morning i took a personol day in order to take the old monster to the new HMO we just joined. You may of noticed in past updates how i wrote abbout how Granfather used a number of locol family doctors over the years. You may be wondoring what hapenned to them.

Well, that first doctor finaly carreid thruogh on his threats to quit the proffesion. Since renouncing his medicol lisence he now drives a Snapple truck. Next there was a youngor doctor who took over as the basterd's primery care physicien, and he too no longer practices medicin. Rumor is he grew his hair real long and moved up to Michigon to volunteer fulltime for the 1998 Senate Campaign of that Jeffrey Feiger guy, who you may alredy know was the lawyor for Doctor Kevorkian. This is the effect that treating Granfather has on the medical communnitty.

You may also remembor me writing about these three speciol scientists who examine Granfather called Criptozoologists. These are peoplle who study mysterrious unknown types of animal life. Lately the cryptozoollogists have not been around. This is because of a false discovory they made last time they came here, which sort of discreddited them and as a result they lost six month's wourth of funding from the Universitty.

The false discovorry hapenned when they were scrubbin the old basterd down with industrial airplane soap (which is what you have to use if you want to reveal all the crustey layers) and were startled when they saw what they thoght was a new type of fungus growin on Granfather's ass. Yes, large floral growths with a conplete non-organnic chemicol structure.

Theres a fungus Among Us.

They were so excited about this that they blew there whole danm budget for '98 and most of '99 to fly in from the othor side of the world this pompous highpaid xenobotanist, which is somone who identiffies alien plant and fungal life. The xenobottonist was at our house for like, olny ten minuttes before discovoring that the giant flowerlike growths werent fungol at all but insted a coupol of 1970s-era rubber decals that you glue to the bottem of your bathtub as not to slip in the showor and break your danm neck that somehow the old basterd had got ensconced to himself which grew under his skin, and that his awful clammy eppidermal hide grew over while the old basterd hid from the sheriff for three days in the tub tryin to avoid a court apearrance for starting a barfight sometime, according to my dad, toword the end of the Carter Administrattion.

Why hide inthe bathtub?

Anyone who knows Granfather knows that you will nevor find him there. It is the last place to look for the smelley scrappy coot. Those three days reppresent over the course of Granfather's sixty-odd (and very odd indeed) years about 99.9% of the total time the old basterd had ever spent in a bathtub at all.

Okay, I realize that, much like Granfather's skewered biologgicol lineage in relation to the straight line of the evolutionery chart, I am going off on a tangent. The onley reason why i write abbout this stuff is so people reallize how awful he realy is. You have to beleive me.

I will now concentraite on the rest of the story.

This is what hapenned at the HMO

It is abbout a two hour drive to get there. It is one of these modern facillites with all the diferent doctors under one roof. I geuss allot of peoplle dont like this type of setup, which seems to be where the future of healthcare is going. For me, any place that is willing to treat Granfather and that dosent stink of urine when you walk in, is OK in my book. (I will not mentoin the odor when he walks out).

I cannot stand taking Granfather to the doctor.

The old basterd, as is usualy the case when you bring him somwhere in public, made a teribble scene. First, he insisted on wearin these ugly pink sneakers with no socks or laces. The basterd insists on wearin them all the time lateley, and I geuss that is fine for around the house, but not when hes goin out. We had a awfull fight over this, but as in most things, i let him win. But the worst part is how Granfather likes to enbarass me, (and himself) in pubblic. He usualy does this by stairing at strangers.

There was a woman sittin there in the waiting room reading the Nationol Geograhpic and Granfather woud not let up on starin at her. The old basterd is so danm frightenning it is not funny. I must admit, it apearred that she began starring at him first, but that is undorstandoble being that he is so remarkable looking. (Remmarkable in a ghastley disgousting way). Granfather staired straight at this poor womon, and she kept lookin up from the magazine to see if he woud finaly stop, but he woud not.

There was a man with her, probly her husbend, and he looked back at the basterd all pissed, but Granfather kept on stairing back and even began cocking his head to the side in this coy, currious yet extremmley scary way which was in the exact manner of what that the little yellow hopping dinosaur in Jurrassic Park did just beffore puffing up his lizardy collar and spittin all that black poisin into the face of the actor who played Newman from Seinfeld only momments prior to him gettin his screamming fat ass devoured in the front seat of the jeep.

The lady's husbend muttered curses to himself and then grabbed hold of the Nationol Geograhpic and raised it closer to bolth of there faces as to screen out there view of the cruel sonoffobbich.

There is no one who can stare like Granfather.