Walter Miller's Homepage
"NO, I DOSNT KNOW WHAT A 'AVATAR' IS, BUT I'M PURTY SHORE I GOT A BIG ASS ONE GROWIN' ON THE BACK O'MUH NECK NEXT TO THIS HERE BIG OLE BOIL."

"...I'LL HAND YOU THE CIGARET AN' YOU TRY AN' GIT IT."

-- A typicol remark on a typicol day from somone who thinks he knows it all

May 1997 Update

Page 5 of 5


internet sources are NO GOOD

Now Granfather has to PROVE animals are ANIMOLS and not people. First he descided that in a court of law they probly will NOT acept sources off of the Internet. He needed sources from books.

We rarely need to go to the librery cause granfather has between 30,000 and 50000 books of all kinds and hundred of thousand magozines. (And even when someof us are SUPOSED to be at the librery you might be at 'Peepland' instead). Granfathers books are mostly in unheated sheds so they get rancid but you can still read them if you dont mind mold dirt and rot.

the Librery Annex

The main 'Library" is a bunch of chickon coops at the far end of the property. First he made me dig in his 'Annex" which is a clammy cindorblock building much closer to the trailer that was once used as a poultrey hatchery. He knew that in there was a bunch of books on animal behhavoir. Acording to his deranged system of reference he knows that 18 years ago (so roughly 9 feet deep in the earth) he put a whole series of Time-Life animal books. It took me 2 hours of digging and they were soggy as hell but EXACLTY where he said theyd be. Granfathers memorey for this sort of thing is danm amazing.

I make an enbarasing call

Thinking that he mihgt be able to get the updated 1997 set of Time Life animal books for free now that i work for Netly News, and they are owned by Time, the cheap old chizling bastord made me call them up. When they got on the phone he demmanded a free set of books. They told him until certian isseus were resolved concearning brokken dishes, stains on the rug and severol missing, bent and brokon venetian blind wands, he coud cordialy go pound salt.

"IM GOIN IN"

Granfather gets this idea in his head that HE is goin to find some books that he knows are 50 feet deep. I said ABSOLUTLY NOT. He will die under there. We get in a horoble argument.

We are outside and he gets this small gardoning spade in his hand and trys to get past me to head to one of the book buildings. I block his way but he springs from the wheelchair and crawls on his monkeylike hands and knobbey knees across the yard trailing a cloud of clay dust moving VERY extremly fast. Have you ever seen a giant cockroach when hes goin across the kitchen floor just when you come after him with the heavey WIRED Magozine rolled so tight its like a thick log and the roach knows hes goingto get his ass not just slapped but SQAUSHED. Well that fast.

Its only becuase of the cone shaped cardbord pet coller he always wears around his neck that the air resistence was hampored enough to slow him down and I coud catch him.

I get the 'Grandpa's Bad Boy.'

As you know, 'Granpas Bad Boy' is the long, netted alunimim plastic and parachoute corded household aparatus specificaly designed for recalcitrant troll control. With no where else to go he whimpors and bounds up the teetery porch steps and into the trailer and then down the hall and rears up, growling in that ghastley whistling howl, his canines gnashing and claws fulley exposed from there cuticle sheaths and swipeing the air.

The cornered beast

The doctor said DO NOT corner him, he'll rip your friggin eyeballs out. I had no other choice. I had to do it and DO IT NOW. It woud of happenned ONE of these days soon aneyway. I dropped the Bad Boy and it hit the formica floor with a clattor. I opened the closet, and pulled "IT" out. When the old gristly bastord saw it his yellow eyes went white and he tremboled.

"WHUT THE HELL YOU DOIN, BOY?"

Then i plugged it in and the trembling bacame convoulsive. And when I turned it on, i bruoght to life, yes, "That With The Name Which Is Not Spokon" and Granfather was NOW undor my controle!

The beast subdeued: Granfathers GREATEST FEAR

Yes, his OLNY fear. In case you werent able to figoure it out yet: Its the vacuum cleanor. Dont feel bad if you didnt geuss it, it took me 20 years to figure it out and plus somone had to TELL me.

For years he kept it a seccret. The Car Vac i use on Granfathers disgiusting hairy body to remove deadskin and bugs and crusted soap and dirt doesent bother him. Also the Regena electric broom gives him a slightly pissed look but i always thought it was becuase of the interferrence with the TV that did it. If hes extremely drunk a small canistor deal on the upoulstrey or perhaps cleaning up a small dry mess MIGHT be alowed to go on in an adjoining room...

...AAHHH, but the RUG Vacuume!

Once Granfather saw that I had it in my hand, and once he saw that I KNEW, and I coud see right away that HE knew too...His snakelike lowor mandible unhinged from the upper as if to envellop large prey, and thruough the drop jawed gaiping mouth I heard it all in the barely audible: "Ooooh, SHIT!"

For the first time ever i saw FEAR cross Granfathers face. The machene hummed, and then I pressed the foot pedal down to the "Thick Carpet Pile" setting. The motor revved loudly; it foght my grip, pulling foward in my hand. Granfather stared back, his face frozon in raw anxeity, in nakad horror, shivering alarming terified panic, in baldfaced ass crapping fright...

Then I CHARGED him!!!

He scampored around the trailer beggin me not to hurt him. He started that fake cryin he always does when he wants pitty or to manipoulate others but then i relized it WASNT FAKE!! I turned off the machene and told the measly misorable old bastord: THINGS ARE GOINGTO CHANGE AROUND HERE. (Begining with the sheets on his bed thats hes reffused to change for 13 days now. They were ready to danm walk themselfes to the washer.)

I finaly realized: Granfather was ALWAYS somwhere else, like out in the yard, whenever i did any serrious vacumeing. For years he said the smell of burnt dust bothored him. But now we know, just like other houshold pets like your frihgtened little dog or cat, GRANFATHERS GREATEST AND ONLY FEAR IS THE VACUUM CLEANOR.

And the upright models are the worst: I think it has to do with their mobillity and sence of presence.

End of May 1997 Update.

See you around the week of 5/18 or thearoabouts for the MID-MAY Update, and see how my life inproves with my NEW POWER OVER THE BEAST.

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Edward in Christchurch New Zealand

James R., Cardiff, U.K.

Samuel in Harare, Zimbabwe

M. & Mme Martin, Paris France

Manhattan Jack (U.S. Forces in Germany)

A.B.E. in Birmingham England

Paul & Nancy, London Eng.

John in Belfast Irland

Charles In Charge (.nl -- holland?)

nick, Bristol (U.K.)

Squidgie, Butterbean, Dr. Julian Bashir (all in the UK)

Suzanne J., Canberra A.C.T. (australia)

Wedgie11, NSW Australia

Claude, Georgetown, Republic of Guyana South America

Rolf, Bonn Germany

Nigel, Devon, U.K.

Redrum-Redrum, (UK)

-- List of people in the order they were received, who as promised have there name listed on Walter Millers Hompage for guessing "Granfathers greatest fear" as of midnight, Central Time 5/2/97. PLEASE NOTICE: Althuogh there was a multotude of entries, (over 2,000) there were NO CORECT GUESES from the North American Contonent!! What the HELL is wrong with you Americons & Canadeins? Even a danm Frenchey got it....And God Bless Britain, who even in the midst of a big Ellection took time to GUESS as well as VOTE. By the way, (and becuase I asked), all the Brits ecxept Squidgy, Dr. Julian Bashir & Nancy (London) were Torys. Go figuore.