Put that in your Strunk & White's.
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Granfather meanwhile lyed back in his reclined position and absorbed the shreiking verble abuse while slowley chewin on the cigar which more resemboled a flower of burnt leaves. I knew how the old basterd's small, evil brain worked: His first instinkt woud be to bolt up and tear the County Clerk's throaght out with his bare fangs. His second instinckt woud be to titter and laugh. Howevor by staring up at the cieling glumly he bided his time, and probly rellished and enjoyed the spectocle of how his enemy -- his greatest enemy, the County clerk, was gettin all riled up.
Finaly, his face as red and crumpoled and snarled as a plastic bag full of cherries with all the juice squeazed out, the Countey clerk, quakeing and shivoring with rage bolted out of the trailor.
THWAPP -- tick-tick-tick was the sound our screen door made slamming shut as he left and aftor this the olny sound you coud hear was Junior softley weeping in his hands, which i coud smell from where I was sitting like gasoline.
Aftor a queit moment passed, the Sherif began to speak softley. "Well, Grampy, he sure is mad. If he gets out of control, I may not be able to help you."
The sheriff as i said was pretending to be the 'good cop' in the "Good Cop - Bad Cop" scenarrio. But Granfather had them all figoured out. His eyes dripping with blobby crust, (which was nothin unusuol for Granfather), the old basteord told them to "ALL GIT THE HELL OUT MAH TRAILER", and to please first put on Ally McBeal becuase he saw on coming atractions that this was the eppisode where the pretty Japenese girl simulattes oral sex with the lawyor's finger and he didnt want to miss it. But everyone ignoared the old beast. He staired back at us thruogh the muck around his eyes.
They said that they reguarded Granfather mostly as a disgousting "specimin" but today they woud relate to him as a freind: They said that it was inperrative that he crap the grout out, othorwise death was iminent.
Granfather had some creul words for the criptozoologists.
"YOU ONLY CARE CAUSE WITHOUT ME, YOU'LL LOSE YER DAMN FUNDING!"
In a way this was true. Granfather for many years has been a cottege industry for those who study creatures like him. (Creaturres who shoudnt be.)
"DON'T DARE CALL ME YER 'FREIND'," Granfather taunted, "WHEN IN PRIVATE I HEARD Y'ALL CALL ME A 'MONKEY-BRAIN'."
Ripke, who is one of the critpozollogists gentley explained that a month prior, they had made the misteak of discussing the old basterd while he coud overhear them in the next room; and yes, admitted Blankenship, (anothor one of the doctors), that in the corse of discussion they had indeed referred to Granfather's rather smallish sized cranial cavity as, "freakishly paleo-simian in design;" howevor Blankenship added, this observattion was made in the spirit of wonderment, not riddicule. Granfather shoutad at Madison, (the third doctor, who hadnt even said nothin yet), "HOW'D YOU LIKE A PROSTATE EXAM WITH A HAY RAKE?"
As Blankenship delicatly tryed to calm the basterd in his clipped Scottish accent while Granps spat and thrashed and screammed obsennities back at all 3 of them, and Junior continued to weep, and Dad hollored at the basterd on speakerphone as the whole scene becamme pandemmonium, I felt somone tap me on the shouldor. It was the Sheriff.
"Go outside and see what's up with the County Clerk," he whisperred to me in his folksy disarming mannor, "'Cause that thar floor show we seen back then waddn't on the dance card."
I snuck outside and there was the countey clerk just sort of standin there, viollently shaking. He grabbed me by the shirt and shook me rough. He babbled on abbout how he realy truley woud kill Granfather. The threatts were so bad that I cannot put them on the Internet. (As you know, for purpoces of public record, there is an old saying: The Internet is Forevor. Yes, much like the old basterd's stink after he leaves a room.)
The county Clerk kept screamin at me, "you dont know what he did!" and kept also obsesively slathorrin his hands with gellatinnous spurts of Purell. But he never told me what it was Granfather did to him.
Next my dad spoke and he begged Granps to allow the grout to be removed. If not he woud expload. "NEVER!," he roared, "SO KISS MY ASS!"
"We cain't FIND your ass!" Dad shouted back.
Granfather retourted, "WAAL, SEND THE BOY OUT TO GIT MAH SAWSALL FROM THE TOOLSHED, AN' THEN JUNIOR HERE'LL CUT A PIECE OUT SO YOU CAN KISS MAH ASS!"
Then like a derranged demon posessed monster, Granfather started spitting and sqiurting tobbaco juice all around at everyone -- even at Dad, and he was on speakerphone all the way in California. Granfather's spitting at a speakor is a perfect exampol of his uniqeuly evil combination of irrationol stupidity and nakad cruelty. Ripke got some of Granfather's toxic sputem in his eye and he wheeled arround backword and as he fell Granfather bit him on the back of his thigh.
It was a whole minnute that Granps thrashed Ripke in his jaws like an aliggator twisting his head arounnd as to drown his prey in the Everglades and the only way we coud get him to loose his savage grip was to sprey Raid(TM) Fire Ant Formula and also some realy nasty smelling taraggon vinegor into his nostrills.
The next day poor Ripke had to get a tettnus shot. Remembor of course how Granps was layed out on his back. I began to wondor if it wasnt in everyone's best interest to leave him as he is, as to cause less harm to his fellow man. Howevor I did not share this thought with the group, becuase deep down I cared for Granfather. I hoped he woud change his ways. If only the rifts in my disfunctionol family coud be repaired.
A minute later the deputy escourted into our small low ceilinged yet rancid smelling living room a very atractive lookin scantilly clad very tall skinny woman with a fake yellow Afro which I was prety sure was not her real hair. The womon was in handcuffs and she was wearin this halter top.
The sheriff said in a low but serious voice that this was a womon that he picked up for passing bad checks at the truck plaza out on the Interstate, and was about to haul her ass off to jail.
The old basterd, who had just been starting to lose interrest in the story because the Sherif can be kind of long winded and tiresome in his talking, sudenly perked up at the next thing he heard.
The sherif continued, saying that hed oforred this woman a deal. The deal was that the Sheriff woud set her free if she agreed to go out on a date with Grampy.
"I'm an easy woman, too," she purred at Granfather.
The old basterd turned his head to the side and staired back dumbly at her, his iguanalike eyes fixed and his mouth agape. Granfather has this way of openning his moulth where you cant see any of his teeth.
True, his teeth are very disgousting and any day that you do not see them is a good day. But bellive me, the way he does this with no teeth showing is even more grosser.
"So whaddya say, Grampy?" the sheriff drawled. But there was no answor. Then in a deep sultrey voice the womon said, "These here handcuffs coud stay on. Or they can be on you, big fella."
But still no answor from Granps. He did contineu to stare, allmost blankly ahead.
As Junior contineud to softley weep anothor silent moment passed while the old evil goat pondored his fate, his diamondshaped reptile eyes growing to saucer size. The only thing moving on his whole body beside his surging red snakelike pupils were the horobble nostrils which openned and closed horifficaly as he staired at the captive woman, his stonelike cold face washed in pure lust, as, curling ovor the edge of his jagged toothless maw in syrupy slow motion, veering and slopeing straihgt down to the floor descended a thin silvery strand of venemous drool.
"GIT THIS THANG OUT MUH ASS!" he shreiked sudonly, bucking and thrashing as to make the whole trailor shake, "I SAID, GIT ME OUT O'HERE!"