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He is NOT a poor lame senile old man who needs care: He is stronger than Mike Tyson and sharper witted and more alert than that genious computer that beat the worlds best chess player. And he just sits on his lazy wiry ass all day abbusing anyone near him, to derrive sick pleasore.
Granps screamed at me that he didnt want no TV dinner and that he had a hankoring instead for fried baloney and a glass of whiskey. So rather than dirty a pan I threw some sliced baloney his travel size teflon waffle iron (he never travels without it) and pressed it till it was burnt black how he liked it.
Then i puored him a jelly glass full of some Wild Turkey, set it all on the TV tray, and while i served him he shreiked and screamed more and hit me becuase i wasnt moving fast enough to fix him his lunch and also to put on Beverly Hills 90201 on the TV for him: "HURRY IT BOY, THE RERUN WHERE LIL' DAVID SILVER GITS LAYED IS ON."
I told her that granfather was asleep. But just then I heard the old mean troll start crankily muttoring at the TV set from the other room: "GARRDAMMIT, THERE AIN'T NO DIFF'RENCE BETWEEN 'ALF' AND 'BLOSSOM' CUZ I SURE AS HELL CAIN'T TELL NONE!"
"DONT NO ONE TELL ME IT BOTH AIN'T THE SAME DANM ACTOR."
The man obviousley spends too much time on repeat TV from the 1980s.
Once the old woman heard Granpy's familier grunting croak and usual stale breath waft in from the othor room, she pushed past me and barged in on the old reptile who was sittin up in the bed watching 'Alf'. (Or Blossom).... Before you know it the 2 of them were shouting an hollerin at each other.
Granfather screamed, saying that he was only trying to "GIT IN GOOD" with The Cornel for the sake of family harmony and also gave her the old line that all cheaters use, that 'ONE THING LED TO ANNOTHER'. He wanted to make it like nothing hapenned. But she told the old bastord that THIS IS IT: they were breaking up FOREVOR.
Granps thought this was unfair. In fact, in his gall he asked her to "GIT NEKKID AN' HOP IN THE SACK" with him right now to "MAKE UP" from there big fight.
The old hag yelled back and her eyes bugged out in a real frihgtening way like a dam catfish. A 'dam catfish' is not a term used to describe a catfish where 'dam' is an expletive. A Dam catfish is a freakish type of American bullhead catfish that hangs around in front of the dam in a man made lake, where smallor fish swim into the turbines and get torn to shreds. Then the peices and chunks sink to the bottom of the lake by the foot of the dam, to be eaten by the dam catfish, who is so fat he cant swim anymore. His remains prone and can live for 50 years, his large belly resting in the same spot of the mud, his already unatractive catfish-like facial features now grossley distorted from a diet of gorging on food for 24 hours a day. The only way you can go fishing for this giant ugly bottom feeder is with a whole chickon tied to quartor-inch copper wire and a winch.
Picture one of these mutant enormous 900 pound fish's face covored with white powder, lipstik and rouge, whiskors and all: AND THATS THE OLD HAG.
COME ON BABEY IVE MENDED MUH WAYS, he said, and also mentionned that despite us not being Cathollic hes been watchin Mothor Angelica on cable ever since he got to L.A. (in english AND Spanish) and the whole thing has him thinkin about his poor ways of treating others.
"COME ON, DARLIN, ILL START GOIN' TO CHURCH. WE'LL GIT COUNSELING FROM THE PREACHER...."
"I'LL EVEN GIT US SOME O'THEM CEMENT SAINTS-ON-THE-HALFSHELL FOR TO PUT IN FRONT O'THE TRAILOR, NEXT TO THEM UGLY-ASS YARD GNOMES."
But the old biddy woud hear nothin of it.
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The Paster (who YES was talkin about Granfather) was known to be a worse spellor even than I am. The church is not there anymore.