Walter Miller's Homepage

Public confesion as therappy.

March 1998 Update

Page 5 of 7


I dogded his blows the best i coud but evereywhere I treid to block him, he hit me in an unprotected area.

He said to me things like, "YOU THOGHT I'D GIT YOU ON THE LEFT SIDE BUT DONE WHUPPED YER RIGHT INSTEAD.

SUPPRIZED, AIN'T YEH? HURTS LIKE HELL, DON'T IT?"

There was no saddistic cackling laugh as ive come to ecxpect. Just pure meanness. And i had done NOTHIN WRONG othor than stumbol onto him while he is in a bad mood. Plus i had just been crying from my long ride. Finaly when i thretoned the old bastord to call the sheriff on him for Assault and Domestic Distourbence he finaly let go.

As i ran off he said some mean comment like "GO AHEAD AN' CALL THE DANM LAW."

"THEN THE NEWSPAPER KIN WRITE ON HOW YER PORE OL' GRANPY IN A WHEELCH'AR DONE HIT YOU WITH A BIG BADASS OL' WORLD'S FAIR TEASPOON."

An unusual propposition

I went into my room and threw myeself onto the bed and creid until I was composed. The humiliation of being hit was worse than the actuol hitting. Plus i was still emmbarased from what hapenned at work. I saw my phone messege machine was blinking. It was a message from CathyAnn who you will remmember was someone who I went on that blind date with, but who we later found out were old freinds. Well, I was glad to hear from her, because I had left her a phone messege the othor day hoping just to talk to her about my problems at work.

Her messege was long, and she was cheering me up. We have become bettor freinds in these past few weeks. She is sort of authorrotative and bossy, and it gets on my nerves but othor that that we get along well. I am glad that we are JUST freinds and not boyfreind and girlfrend.

Aneyway, toword the end of the messege, (which was VERY reppetitive about how i have to "stand up for myself"; I alredy KNOW that) -- she tells me that we shoud "get togethor" -- just as platonnic freinds, mind you -- and perhaps if anothor "kissing lesson" emerges from it mabye that woudnt be the worst thing in the world because my kissing does still need a little work: Just as a freind ONLY, of cource.

Oh, yuck. This was not good. I will have to talk to her abuot this. And perhapps be civil and not say anything that she coud interpret as hurtful or rejection, because I KNOW what it is like to be rejjected. I just haveto remember to bite my toungue. And for that mattor perhapps keep her from biting mine.

Then I logged into my e-mail.

i am getting ALLOT of e-mail lately. I am getting more and more famous as time goes by plus I am getting allot more readers.

I try to answor every peice of mail. I am getting backlogged so if you ever write to me, and a few weeks go by where there is no responce, please write agian. I appollogize. I have allways felt that I shoud try to write back to those who take the time to write me. (Ecxept the spammers: YOU folks can go to hell).

An EVEN MORE unusual propposition

Aneyway, there has been this guy who is writing to me, who told me that he wants to buy the rights to my life. Actualy, when i say "buy the rights to my life" what he is realy talking abbout is NOT buying the rights to produce a book or cartoon or whatevor about me, but to actualy buy the right to BE Walter Underscore Miller. In othor words, he wants ME to change my name to somthing else, while HE holds press conferrences or somthing where he is able to say that all along since way back in 1995, (when my homepage started), that HE was the genious behind "the Walter Miller story" all along.

Meanwhile HIS story is even more weirder than mine.

It turns out the guy has been folowing my homepage since the begining, and has been fascinnated with it. Somtime in the last year he hit the Lottery and of all the things that he wants to buy with his money, the thing he wants the most is to walk arround and pretend that he is Walter Miller. It is so bizzarre I cant bellive it. And i thuoght I had a poorselfimage.

Anyway he wanted to meet me so I figuored what the hell. The whole things sounds fishey to be sure. But I wrote him back and told him that i will atleast agree to talk to him. Then he told me that he will Express Mail a plane ticket to me that night.

An out of controle bastord

I go outside of my room and by now Granfather is whipped up into a frenzey of screamming and pounding on the kitchon table. By now, he is surely more angry over the fact that i have been ignorring him, than for whatever it is that is irking him.

Finaly I give in and tell him i will listen to him.

Figurring that my suffering will not stop until his does, I said, "OK Granfather please tell me your problem and i will try to help."

The old geezer muttered that him and his new girlfreind were now hitting a rocky road. He said that sexauly, things are fine. (Like I HAD to hear that. Just knowing that fact alone will add eight more months to my therappy.)

The bastord confided in me that he is affraid she will break up with him.

Then I ansored, "Oh, is it because you do not bathe and smell like a rotting whale, or perhapps it is because you are trying to swallow a peice of string thru your whole body?"

Grannfather narowwed his eyes and told me that she was supportive of his quest to get in the Giuness Record book, and agreed with him that the Dream Shall Neh-VAHH Die. But he told me that he was concerned that he coud not keep up the charade of not eating meat. While it was not necessery that he abstain from meat, he tells me that he did prommise her that he does not eat any.

The BIG problem

The big problom was the cruelty to animals issue. Remmember, this was the Female Bob Barkor he was dating, and ovbiously, just as her more famous counterpart, she held strong anti-animal creulty sentiments.

"HERE'S WHUT I'M WORRIED ABOUT: YOU KNOW IT'S SPRINGTIME, BOY," the bastord said to me with watery desperate eyes.

"YOU KNOW I GO THRU MY PECULIOR TIME."

What this means

If you dont know this by now, Granfather allways acts peculior, and by this I mean eating unusual things. Howwever, over the years some of the cryptozoologists who examine him have determined certian cycles by which he acts even more oddly strange than others. (As you know, a crytpozoologist is a scientist who speciallizes in unexplained biologicol species--and as you know, Granfather is one of those).

In the springtime, the old basterd has an extreme bloodthirstey hankering to atack and eat small animals. He prefers birds if he can get them, i think because of the protiens which are in feathors - he eats them whole. One researcher found that vast segments of Granfather's DNA is identicol to that of alligators and at certian times of the year they too need to eat feathors.

In a pinch Granfather will go for rodents or even cats. One year when i was a kid he stayed with us in California durring March and April and a numbor of small loose pets in the area inexplicobly vanished. Nothing was ever proven, but the bastord was allways seen by witnesses to be lurking in the area. After every disapearence, later, for supper he woud have only a green salad. My brothor and I were taunted so mutch in school my parents allmost transfered us. Perhaps it is not a stretch for that neighbour of ours to think that Granfather ate her pet parrot.

The whole thing is a dark stain on our familly

It is horrible and shamefull and i am ashamed to be related to him. Yet the doctors say that it is biologicol, and NOT his fault: It is not because he is a bad person. (Well, he really IS a bad person, extreme bloodthirsty hankerrings or not).

The next day i got up at dawn and went in to check on Granfather but he wasnt in his bed. A powerfull stink trickoled in from the living room and thats where i found him.

"I BEEN LOOKIN OUT THIS WINDOW AT THEM CHICKENS IN THE YARD," the monster confessed to me.

"AND IM AFRAID I WON'T BE ABLE TO CONTROL MUHSELF WHEN THE FEMALE BOB BARKER IS AROUND."

The gentle warbling clucks of the poultrey in our yard drifted into the screen window, and as the sun broke on the prarie a look of evil washed ovor the old beast's eyes, and just then i coud sence that he was ready to pounce. Imediatly i jumped up and shut the window hard and locked it. Good thing i did, cause just at that moment Granfather sprang up from his wheelchair and without so much as hobbling while he ran, the bastord flung himself onto window and pressed his gasping and shuddering face agianst the safety glass with ravennous famished lust. Down below were our two fattest and prettiest hens, whose names were Miss Hawaii and Miss Missisippi. The evil ogre's scraggly rib cage heaved amd quaked with vorracious burning hunger.

"I WANTS THEM CHICKENS, BOY!" he wailed in a howl of aggony. "HELP ME. I TELLS YOU, HE'PP ME BOY, HE'PP YOUR OL' GRANPAP.

I had to pry him off with a broom handol othorwise he woud of popped the window out of its frame and crashed to the dirt below. There was drool and face grease on the glass where his face pressed.

"Yo Qeiuro Taco Belle"

Granfathor also confidded in me that he is having severe problemms with self-control whenevor he sees the new Taco Belle comercials.

"TO HELL WITH WHUT'S ON THE MENU," he muttered. "'YO QUEIRO' THAT THAR LITTLE CHIHUAHUA DOGGIE IN A NICE PERKY BROWN MOLEE."

I try to calm him down.