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Late Augost/Early Septembor 1998 Update

Page 8 of 8


A huge giant fight

Rihgt after I said this me and my brothor and sisterin law had a big fight. In a coupol of minuttes I saw that i was not gettin anywhere. And with my dysfuntionnol family, this is ecaxtly the time that you just have to leave. And so I got back in the car and told Junior to drive back to the hospitol.

All four of them folowwed me outside and and they piled into Uncle Zeke's big old 1971 Pontiac. I told Junior to please drive fastor as to lose them. (I did not want them to find out where Granfather was.)

A dysfunctionol low speed chase

Junior's top velocitty on a straihgtaway is 35 miles an huor, while Uncle Zeke's is only 30. Even thouhg the chase went slowly it was a real nailbitor and very tence. I coud hear my brothor hollerin at Uncle Zeke to "Let ME Drive," while Zeke, his dour gloomy and mysterriously half-green-and-half-purpol painted face clearley visibble and scowling in Junior's rearveiw mirror, kept pushin my brothor away.

We are not fast enuogh to outrun them.

As me and Junior hurreid in thruogh the hospital doors, the sluggishley moving Pontiac was just pulling into the lot, coasting at a snail's pace, signoling for a turn.

Minutts later the four of them who were in the car, plus me, a still tearfull Junior, and also two doctors and a nurse were all crowded into Granfather's tiny foulsmelling hospittol room. The leathorskinned old basturd was pale, weak looking, but alert. He looked verry small in the large bed and glowered at us like a trapped owl. Finaly he clearred his grimy throahgt and said in a cruel mocking tone to Zeke, "WHUT THE HELL'S WITH YER PAINTED MUG, BIG BROTHER.
"YUH DONE LOOK LIKE A GERIATRIC MEL GIBSON IN BRAVEHEART."

Beffore the group of us once more errupted in a free-for-all, the doctor cut evereyone off by shouting TIME OUT!"

The doctor then anounced that Granfather will be needing emergencey surgery which was to commence in the next hour. Evereyone got real quiet. And sudenly, with all eyes on the pittiful face of the basterd, the old basterd spoke.

"I'D LIKE TO SPEAK TO WALTER ALONE PLEASE."

For me these were extremly spooky words.

Why it was spookey

Granfather never calls me "Walter." Mabye he's done so twice in my life. Eaither he had somthing very awful to share with me, or else the old basterd wanted somthing from me: probly somthin he wanted realy BAD.

Everryone shuffoled out of the room. Me and Granfather just staired at eachother.

It was silent.

The only sound you coud hear was the muffoled tones of Uncle Zeke outside in the corriddor, very slowley and painstakingly describbing to the crowd in his deliborate plodding grunting voice how his evil youngor half-brother, my evil Granfather, had mailed him by Parcel Post a small box two weeks ago consisting of a bottol of green India ink, a bottol of violet India ink, and a small plastic envollope of iron filings, and how also in the box was an anonnymous note which read:

WHATEVER YOU DO

DON'T MIX THIS

ALL UP AND RUB

IT HARD ON YOUR

BUTT UGLY FACE

...and how Uncle Zeke knew the packege was from Granfather, but somhow suspecting a trick, and hoping to outfox the basterd and his wily plans, went ahead and did exactley what the note said. And now, the dermattologist says unless he springs for expennsive lazor surgery, he is stained for life.

"He's a sneaky one, yer ole Granpap," I heard Uncle Zeke say thruogh the closed door.

With the story now ended, Granfather once agian turned his atenttion onto me. A long unconfortobble silence went by. His grim, expresionless face was allmost sad and concerned, but strangley calm. His thick ugly plum colored gummy forked tounge slowley and in a detestably serene way licked his dry dreadfull lips.

"HELLO, WALTER," he said to me, scairin the danm hell out of me by adressing me by my given name for only the 4th time in my life.

"What the hell do you want from me," my voice tremboled.

The old basterd went on to tell me what I had presumed from all along -- atleast since he forbade the doctor at the HMO to give him a X-ray: Granfather had swalowed the camcorder. Yes, the Camcorder, a Panasonnic brand camcorder, heavilly slathored up with Vaseline for easy lubricattion, and while it had a tape in it, and while it was TURNED ON in order to captoure on tape a veiw of his horroble alimentary canal, from moulth to ass.

Lights! Camerra! (Perristaltic) Action!

Once agian I found myself running to the loo. As I, my quivorring hands gripping a cold ring of white porcelin uninhibbetedly vomitted in the small bathcloset, the old basterd, now sitting up in his hospitol bed emottionlessly gave me the details of what he'd hoped to be his directoral film debut.

"Y'UNNERSTAND, NOW, I KNOWS I AIN'T NO JOHN FORD, OR SPIKE LEE," Granfather said severely.

"I WUZ TRYIN TO SEND IT DOWN SIDEWAYS, TO FILM A LONG PAN SHOT."

In a daze and slowly tryin to recovor from barfin my danm lungs up, I leaned up from the toilat and asked Granfather what it was exactley that he wanted from me.

"THIS IS IMPORTANT, BOY.

"YOU MUST TELL THEM ALL THET THE CAMCORDER WAS ON ITS WAY OUT: AND MOST CERTINLY NOT ON ITS WAY IN.

Why this was so inportent to Granfather I did not undorstand right away. The old monster called me "thick headed" and then explainned to me with noticabble exasperration that it was commenly reckognized thruout the Western world that one's sending an item down one's throaght initially, and ultimatly out of one's ass, was acceptabble, (includding, perhapps, in the eyes of the Giuness World Record people, at least)...

...but, (and this was a BIG but): One's sending somthing UP one's ass, in any stretch of the imaggination, was, well, a peversion. A gross perversion. Yes, a sexaul peverssion.

I asked him why, and he repplied curtley that he wasnt gointo explain it further. This did not stop him from revelling in his own disgousting acheivement -- an acheivment that reflected the fact that the camcordor was emminently almost on its way to compleating its World Record journey.

WATCH THIS TRICK, BOY: IF I SPREAD MUHSELF W-A-AY OPEN, I KIN SHINE THIS HERE LITTLE RED 'ON' LIGHT SMACK ONTO THET THAR FAR WALL," said the evil old sideshow freak chearfully.

I must of passed out

This latest Stupid Basterd trick was so revoulting to me I was sure that i went unconsciuous, because the next thing I remmember was that I had a giant lump on my head, probly from fallin on the floor, while the rest of my familly was back in the tiny hospitol room, crowding arround Granfather.

Granfather's mood had changed from cheerful and happey to stern, austere and businneslike. Though I was groggey, I coud see that a few big burley hospitol ordorlies were strapping him to a gurney and preppairing to wheel him away.

"I'M GONNA SAY THIS ONLY ONE TIME," Granfather said firmly and authorratativly, as the familly clusterred silently about to hear his serrious words, words which meant to comunnicate that the item in qeustion clearly went DOWN his throaght in a distingiushed, respectoble mannor, rather than UP his butt in a peverted, autoerotic one.

"AND I WANT YOU TO LISTEN TO ME.

"I...DID...NOT HAVE SEXUOL RELATIONS WITH THAT CAMCORDER: THE PANASONNIC....

"I AIN'T NEVER TOLD NO ONE TO LIE..."

Unfortunnatly this truely sincear statement wasnt enuogh. I am the only one in the room who addmitted that I beleived the basterd. My brothor, sister inlaw and 2 uncles said it probly WAS true, but in their hatred of Granfather they were wiling to slandor him by saying that the camcorder WAS goin up his butt insted of out. Junior, the only swing vote declaired that he woud be taking the Fifth and woud not answor unless he was depposed and undor oath...So sleepy was I from the wooziness of throwing up, and also of hittin my head...I must of blacked out, because I rememmber awaking from a breif lapse to the sound of:

The screech of wheels

The next thing I knew I heard a loud sqeual of rubber tires come from outside. Looking out the window I saw Uncle Zeke's Pontiac tear off onto the state hihgway on two wheels, and this time, Zeke wasnt driving: My leadfooted fast driving brother was. Sqiurming and thrashing and tryin to get out of the back window was...Granfather!!

I run outside

The doctor was all upset there in the parkin lot waiving his arms, and one of the orderlies was flat out on his ass. My sister inlaw, brother and two elderley uncles had abducted Granfather. But where were they takkin him?

All night I treid to call my parents in California but only got phonemail. Then in the middol of the night, my sisterinlaw finaly called:

I get the awful news

She woud not reveal her locattion, only to say that they were on the road. She said to me, "I hope you said goodbye to the old bastord because you will never see him agian."

I screammed back, "What nursing home did you take him to?"

and then she luaghed like the wicked witch, "HE IS ON HIS WAY TO THE NETHORLANDS WHERE HE WILL BE LEGALLY YOUTHANIZED."

You may remmember that way back in my April 1996 Update that i mentionned that my family was waiting to take Granpy to Holland in 1998 to be leggally put to sleep.

THAT DAY NOW HAPPENNED.

I am ending this updatte now, because right now me and my Dad are on our way to Nework Airport in New Jersy to intorscept them beffore they get to Europe.

Yes, he is my Granfather and i hate his friggin guts but I do not want him to die. Atleast not now.

I HOPE TO HAVE MY NEXT UPDATE UP SOON, SOMTIME IN SEPTENBER.

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