Walter Miller's Homepage

Put that in your Strunk & White's.

April 1999 Updatte

Page 5 of 6

The countey clerk goes Postal

I tell you I have seen the man act in locol small town theator and never was inpressed, but on this day he did a great job. His face was all red and he was shaiking angrilly. Without even mentionning the ass plug, he told Granfather that he bettor start acting like a human and not an animol othorwise he woud personaly kill him by dismemborment.

This was odd

All durring the loud tirade, the county clerk kept whipping this little bottol of Purell hand cleanor out of his shirt pocket every minnute or so and kept wringing and twisting his hands clean with goopy squirts of the clear gel. Also, the Sheriff had his head down at first but then staired at the County clerk in puzzelment. The sheriff is an older man, and is usualy known for his self controle, even around the bastord. But i coud tell somthing wasnt right.

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.

Warning: This is gross

When you are partley reptile, and you have three eyelids its onley naturol that you get sludge and crap arround your eyes. With Granfather it is more stomoch turning than you can imagine. Have you ever had Gulf Blue Crabs steamed and then you open up the body cavitty and there's that brown crispey papery stuff inside, white blobs of meat and yellowish green tomally custord allover? Well i did once and sure as hell didnt eat it. Mix in some scraps from the bottom of the kitty litter pan, rancid molasses and a flattened I-20 porcupine after a few hours baking and thats Granfather's eye crust for you. And as he's been laying on his back for the last 2 months it runs down the sides of his face like macabra mascara so he looks like some sort of horizontal Area 51 alien crossdressing transexuol. This eye muck is what he staired at us through, as we ignoared his demand that we leave.

The three Criptozoologists spoke next.

These were the doctors: Madison, Ripke and Blankenship

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.


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.)


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.

I went back in the trailer

I heard from outside som more loud curses and then the sound of the tires of the County Clerk's big white Chevy fishtailing and spinning and scrambolling up our unpaved track toword the state Route.

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.


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.

"OK, that's it," the Sherif finaly said.

He abruptley clicked his Walky-Talky and said, "Bring on the Speciel Guest."

The 'Speciol Guest' shows up

In five minutes the crunching sound of gravel coud be heard outside as one of the Sherif's depputies drove up in a police cruisor. As Granfather contineud to fight with the docters, I asked the Sheriff what was going on. And he told me that he had a "speciel guest" who woud help Granfather decide to have the cement plug removed.

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!"

A change of heart -- evon thuogh he dosent have one