Walter Miller's Homepage

The dovetailing synergystic Convergence of new technollogy, mediocre design and bad taste.

May 1998 Updaite

Page 5 of 7

Zeke was mad at Granfather's inconsideratness of the whole day, but NOW there was somthing that he did that was the last straw. My uncle just boiled ovor.

First, Zeke hollared, Granfather had made him drive him to the mall to buy Beany toys at the greeting card store and startad a fight with the lady behind the countor. Next, when they went to see their brother in the hospitol, the old theif coot stole that Tam-O-Shantor right off Uncle Willaim's dyeing head. Plus Granfather and his new squaw were making out in his car all day and mabye a thuousand times he told them to STOP.

But now was the last straw as Uncle Zeke had just then found that sittin there on a pile of his fresh laundrey festoring since earley this morning (before even they drove off) was somthing so horabbly gross I dont even want to say what it is but perhapps you coud guess if you happaned to know that nearby on the floor was a rather soiled willow switch with the bark peeled off.

"I aim to tear yer goll-dang head off," Zeke said to Granfather, but the old basterd ignored him. Zeke then clomped into the living room with the load in his hands.

"Whut the hell is THIS?" he creid while ploppin the laundry pile with the pile of plop on top, on top of Granpy's diapor pail, on which the bastord had balanced a beer.

"LOOK AT THEM GOTHIC LINES AND ANGLES," said Granfather calmley pointing at his creattion.


The old bastord then mentioned somthin about "A 'Qeust For Camelot' Happy meal toy, 'cept much bigger an' smellier," and then, just as Uncle Zeke stomped off angrilly he remmarked to both me and his girlfreind that his "aim" is actualy very good indeed, it appears.

A family fight by speakorphone

The next thing my Uncle Zeke did was get Uncle William on the phone from the hospitol. The nurse said that Uncle Will is not realy able to speak aneymore, and she didnt want to wake him. But Zeke hollared so much that she put Willaim on.

He was barely audibble. Zeke told him that he wasnt going to tell him this, but that "the little demon Bastord", (their name for Granfather), had stole his Tam-O-Shantor hat right from him while he was semi-comatose.

The weak raspyness of my dying Uncle Will's voice was verry faint and so Zeke turned the volume on high. In responce, Granfather also turned up the voloume on the TV set. Then he took the cardbord cone off the TV and did that other thing with it that he threatenned me abbout before, (vis-a-vis, ataching it as a megaphone for his ass), and all three brothors and Granfather's girlfreind screammed and spat and farted at each othor in a giant fight. Granfather kept shouting, (agian in that Scottish accent), "'TIS MY TAM-O-SHANTOR! 'TIS MINE," and also inexpicabbly that line from Chariotts of Fire over and over:

It was all too mutch for me to bear and i started cryin.

The free-for-all took anothor bad turn when the subject of the Crown attachment came up.

The precious crown Atachment

This is the item I mentioned in a prior update: A pot-metol crown-shaped emblem which Granfather snapped off the car bumper of the Duke Of Windsor's royal auttomobbile back in 1960.

I know you probly think this is silly, but the three brothors are in hot contention over who owns it for allmost 40 years now. William and Zeke are willing to share ownorship of it, but Granfather claims it alone. The old bastord had been wearing it arround his neck by a chain for the past few weeks, but now has hid it. Granfather ripped his shirt open like a gorrilla and danced arround so Zeke coud see that the necklace was no longor there.


Finally, The arguement ends

Just as the female version of James Carrville hissed at Gramps' brothers, "This heah is whut you'all git when you drag a hunnert-dollar bill thru a trailer park," Zeke took me aside and put me on the phone with Uncle Will, who wantad to talk to me in private about two things.

The first thing was, did I know where the crown attachment was? The answor to that was NO.

the second thing

Uncle Will told me NOT to tell Granfather this, but that even if it killed him he woud confront the sonoffobich one more time. Uncle Willaim said that he was going to hire a private ambulence to transport him to our place, while he was all connected to his I.V., oxegyn, and ventilator machene.

"Im gonna spit in his face, an git muh dang hat back too." he wheezed.

Of cuorse i didnt belive this for one minute considdering how sick he was.

Zeke then got on the extension phone in my beddroom and said that mabye we can pull a scam by getting Granfather drunk, inviting Dr. Kervorkian over, showing him Uncle Will, and then switching the bodies undor the sheets just as Doctor Death jabs the needle so that it goes instead into the pestillent bastord's ass. But this was just wishfull thinking.

"They dont like me--They REALY dont Like me"

I think I read somwhere that if they took evory Sally Feild film that was ever made and just took the scenes where she is speaking, and glued them end to end, the program woud run non-stop for 420 years and the VCR tape itself woud be on a spool the size of the Pickadilly Circus in circumference.

In any case it was an extremmly peculior evening, as the Movie Marathhon contineud: After supper, the three old grumps: Zeke, Gramps, and the Carvile Counterpart, sat there at the kitchon table silently, yet civilly, and with quiet smouldoring hatred and worked on a jigsaw puzzol togethor while they all ate from a big bowl of popcorn I made and all three intently watched "Not Without My Daughtor: The Betty Mamoody Story" starring the efforvescently anxious Sally Feild.

The only word which was spoke the whole time was at one point when Uncle Zeke muttored out softley to no one in particuler:

"Fer Hellfire an' Tarnation's sake, GIVE the screechin' banshee her golldang dagnab consarn daughter already."

Camping out: Cause the TV was on all nihgt