"THREE THINGS, OFFICER: EL NINO, UNREGULATED PESTICIDES, AND A VAST RIGHT WING CONSPIRACY."-- What Granfather blaimes his last shoplifting arrest on.
Page 7 of 7
...And sure enuogh, he realy did have a plumber's routing snake coming out of his mouth. He still sat there stroking his evil chin, and staring at his creation. I heard him musing to himmself outloud things like: "HOT DANM! FERGIT THE GUINESS BOOK: RIPLEY'S-BELIVE-IT-OR-NOT HERE I COME."
And also he said: (and i warn you this is gross):"MY WHUT A PURTY, PURTY, LITTLE FISHY. BUT MEBBE NEXT TIME MORE CORN."
Once we were in his room I helped him get into his new clothes that his girlfreind boght for him. It was a black turtolneck sweator and one of those brown tweedy smoking jackets. It was quite a challange to get the clothes on due to the router snake that looped out of his moulth and rested in a coil on his lap.
"YUH LIKE MUH NEW GARMENTS? THIS HERE'S MUH KOFI ANNAN OUTFIT. AN' IF HE AIN'T THE SMOOTHEST SHARPEST FELLER IN THE WORLD, I DON'T KNOW WHO IS."
Granfather and her were planning to go to the dinner theator. This is how cheap the sunofobich is: When they are on line at the buffet they allways brings this Rubbermaid containor to shovol extra food in. Then, while they are sitting there during the show, they usualy eat a lunch that was packed from home. The girlfreind came in with a brown bag, which she handed to the bastord who grinned back at her with lacsivuious desire.
"IF THAR'S AN ICE TEA IN THAT THAR BAG, AGENT SCULLY, THIS COUD BE LO-O-O-VE," he whispored.
I drove the girlfreind's car so the two of them coud "sit close" in the back. It is a very long ride. For the first ten minnutes they told me abbout how they came up with the innovattive idea of coating the stainles steel surface of the routing snake with rubbor cement so the bastord's superhumaine acids woudnt rot it. But for the rest of the ride there was some serrious necking going on as well as ALLOT MORE.
At one point as the old biddy leaned back to gasp for air, Granfather leaned fowward in the cramped Geo Metro and whispored to me as i drove, while a loop of steel from the snake router in his mouth pressed in my ear, "T'OTHER DAY WHEN YOU WUZ OUT, ME AN' HER WUZ DANCIN' AROUND LIKE THET ASS NEKKID BABY ON THE ALLY MCBEAL SHOW. THIS HERE IS ONE HANDFULL OF A WOMAN, BOY."
I treid my best to ignore him AND drive without barfing.
The next day we went to this office park and sat in this conferrence room where they videotaped me, and asked me all these qeustions. I had to say all of these words in a micraphone. Just a list of danm words. I asked if i coud write about this in my homepage and they said SURE just dont tell what city you went to, or describe us. Especialy not the person who wants to "be" me.
Othor than that the whole thing was pretty unevventful. They paid me $599 for the 2 days which is the biggest amount where they dont have to send you a 1099 tax form, plus they even let me watch a movie in my hotel room which they never aloww you to do on a regulor business trip. They evon sprung for a car to drive me from the airport to all the way back to where I live. That must of cost a pretty penny.
It wasnt so bad while i was there but aftorword I realized that I had a lousy time. The whole thing was just too danm weird. I felt like Granfather must feel when the cryptozoologists come to poke and prod him. At least they do so in the interests of science. Monkey sceince.
Granfather was sitting there in his wheelchair asleep. He was still dressed in his cool U.N. Secretery General Koffi Annon black turtelneck and tweed blazer, but it was all spattored and tattered. As if he had gone on some sort of horroble, surealistic United Natoins weappons inspection tour gone wrong. VERY wrong. All ovor his natural hot dog orange skin was blood AND ON HIS FACE WAS CHICKON FEATHORS!
You woud think Granfather woud be apreciative that i am willing to clean up the mess.
"YOU BEEN FEEDIN' THESE HENS NOTHIN' BUT CORNFEED, AIN'T YOU, BOY," the bastord snarled. Well the fact was i had been takking care of our chickons. Yes, i boght them some good feed. Also I gave them marragold seeds which are not cheep! cheep!, (sorrey for the pun), and also made sure that they ate a veggetarion diet, because thats what Granfather's new slim, silverhaired, goldenvoiced lady freind woud of wanted. In any case it made the chickons' eggs taste bettor.
"YARD HENS SHOUD GIT A HEALTHY MIX OF OTHOR STUFF TOO," the bastard angrily screamed. He was extremmly pissed. He told me that Digby Andersen's Delectations colunm in the National Review says that roaming poultrey tastes best when they are able to consume othor stuff like insects and gravel. I find this ammazing. Not just that Granfather actualy takes Digby Anderson 's advice on food, (he is British!), but that he actualy reads the very Rebuplican Nationol Reveiw. Because Granfather is a Democrat.
Well, I was not goingto let this happan. I ran up to his bedroom and came down with the picture Granfather keeps by his bed. It is a framed photo of the bastord and his girlfreind on their second date: The Sears appliance department. She is standing and smiling in front of a new reffrigerator-freezer, and coyly holding one hand ovor her eyes and the Special Red Price Tag in the othor, as she is plainly seen trying to guess the sugested retail price of the showcase without going over. Granfather grabbed the photo from me with his iguanalike claws, and rested it in his lap. There he gently wrapped the router coil that came out of his mouth arround the edge of the photo as to frame it. And he lovingley gazed at it. A small wet drop welled from his face and then fell upon the picture.. I thuoght at first it was a meloncholy teardrop, but i think it was actualy a peice of chicken slime, or mabye some snot.
Then he spoke agian: "I CAIN'T LOSE THIS HERE WOMAN...
"HELP ME, BOY. I SAID HE'PP ME, I TELLS YUH."
The evil beast admitted to me he had "A hankerin'" for even more raw bird meat. He told me it was REALLY bad. He told me that he had left the TV on in the house, and it was tuned to PBS, and that just 10 minuts beffore I arrived home, they must of aired a Sesamme Street comerciel because he heard Big Bird's voice for just four seconds and this made him feel the hungrey lust for MORE uncooked poultrey.
"THEM WUZ THE LONGEST FOUR SECONDS O'MY LIFE, AND I'D JUST EATEN TWO LIVE CHICKONS, MIND YOU," said Granfather.
"THE HELL WITH THE CORNOL'S CRISPY STRIPS," he warboled with emotion, "I'D EAT THE DANM CORNOL HISSELF IF HE WAS HERE RIGHT NOW, IN ORIGINAL, EXTRA CRISPY, OR ROTISSERIE: DEAD OR ALIVE, RAW OR COOKED, ELEVEN SECRET HERBS AN' SPICES, OR NAUGHT."
The bastord too was desperate to keep the rellationship up. "IMMAGINE IT BOY," he mused. "I, YER NASTY OL' BUTT-UGLY GRANPAP AM DATING THE FEMALE BOB BARKOR."
"REMEMBER, WE AIN'T TALKIN' NO ORDINNERY FEMALE MEL TORMEY, HERE. OR THE OL' FEMALE GERARD DEPARDEW..."
I wheeled Granfather right up to the verticol drill press. Then i got the poor plastic scare crow owl and cleaned it off in the slop sink with hot soapey water. The owl was made of heavy duty moulded plastic with two galvonized metol rods coming out of the bottom. I had tied the rods to the vinyl wheelchair back, but now this was more drastic.
I atached the quartor-inch drill bit to the press. Instead of a chuck-key, Granfather usualy likes to tighten the bit with his teeth, so I let him. The monster sat still as slowly I carefully drilled two holes in the upper back part of his head. I was not affraid of hurting him, just as long as i didnt go deeper that three inches. I had seen X-rays of his head. Granfathers skull is a matted mass of spongey bone, insect-like chiten, and husky vegetative materiol. It is nearley five inches thru the lifeless crust and mantle until you get to the core, consisting of his small fist sized brain.
One bennefit of this drilling was that i woud now have a fresh core sample to send to the scientists. Theyve been suspecting the bastord has Dutch Elm disaese of the Cranium.
I said to him that I was sorry that I was not as cute as Heidi from Tool Time. And he said to me "THE HELL WITH HEIDI. I'LL TAKE AL'S MOM."
This semi-humorous small talk was inportant for me. Granfather and I never bond. We are never realy the freinds we coud be. I actualy enjoyed his company for a bit, (at least while I exhailed, not inhailed). Of course, later he ruined the whole thing by getting the LICE. I am pretty sure that the bugs jumped on me as i fitted the plasstic owl into the holes in the back of his head. I noticed his reppulsive scalp crawling with fauna and flora. And (Yuck, I know), allot of insects. There within his greasy wirelike hair, those crocuses had grown back and so was some moss, a few scraggly lichens and even some of that elusive and benneficial St. John's Wort. At one point he wrinkoled his face up like James Whitmoore, looked up at me and aped:
"LOOK WHUT MIRACLE-GRO DOES FER ME!"
Granfather did not cry. He never creis, unless its fake crying for sympathey. Insted he throws awfull fits and takes out his frustrattion on othors. The teaspoon hit me repeatedley in places Id rathor not discuss. The owl still is in place, thuogh. I got that sucker in good.
She very was pleasent on the phone. Also she told me that she is not worreid as her scalp is too sun baked and leathory for her to be infested as no bug can bite thruogh it. And even if they coud, there is all those danm liver spots. And also that her perfectley coiffed flat pompadore was not real hair anyway, but was constructed of profesionally attached space age vinyl polymer fibers. This truely was the best womon Granfather ever had.
That night we called in the exterminnators to seal the windows with plastic and gas the trailer. While inside, one of them inadvertently flushed Granfather's "creation" down and the bastord has filed a lawsuit agianst him. Also that night I shaved my head. Actualy I paid Junior ten bucks to come ovor and do it for me.
Insted of a shaving, (evon the sharpest razors cannot cut his steel wire thatch), Granfather opted for wearring the tight fitting shower cap full of kerosene. But as you know, kerosine is a loose liquid that dribbols and drips. So the bastord had me spoon in a few helpings of Metamucil to thicken it up. Also he saw on the Discovery Chanel (I think thats where it was), some show about how kids are taught in sceince class that mayonaise makes a perfect emulsion in some experriments. With his small demented mind using that evidence as a point of refference, Granfather also emptied a half jar of Miracle Whip into the showor cap. Its gone sour and smells rancid. The whole danm trailer stinks like a rotting restarant dumpster. Disgusting creature that he is.
And now we are bruoght up to the present, where he is hollaring at the TV. The old gristly bastord has this way of cocking his head, so the owl (which is still stuck, and locaited just below the back elacstic of the cap), stares its evil plastic eyes at me.
"WHOO! WHOO! WHOOOO'S BEEN A BAD BOY!" he said to Junoir in this high girly voice. Junior said "Stop that, Granpy," and Granfather told him it WASNT HIM, but the danm owl talking.
It scared the hell out of him and Junior ran out and said hes not commin back. Like i said beffore he is not too bright.
This is the end of the March update. YES there will be a Late March instalment.