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Speciel Extra-Exaggorated Edition Update!

Page 4 of 8

Also, the one thing i cannot stand abbout my stupid-ass boss is that he alwayes adds the line: Of course I mean that affectionately ;-) aftor a big insult. He told me once verbaly that I shoud be advised that he he usualy MEANS what he says, and only puts the disclaimor and smily face on it to covor his ass in case someone grabs his e-mail logs.

Little did this idiot know how wrong he woud be abuot the birth of the Catfish Cam(TM) -- and how soon he woud be wrong.

I deleted all 40 notes and while I was dumping them three more from the same danm thread apeared as NEW MAIL. There were allot of "LOL" and "ROTFL" thingys in the subject lines. I was once agian being held up to houmiliation and riddicule by my peers. But danm it what else is new.

Oh, they were luaghin at me as a big fool, allright. But now that they see how usefull the Catfish Cam is, well no one is laughin. (Althuogh i am sure they still think i am a fool).

Blankenship, the sceintist who had been on the phone, got off the phone and said with a melancholly mournfull tone that a medicol photographar woud be coming over that evening. It seems that the new medicol discoverries concerning Granfather's lack of a heart and circulatorey systam have warranted extra grant money from the goverment to study the bastord, and part of that funding is for new photoes for pubblication in varrious freak journols.

The whole thing about my job was so upsetting to me that I went outside to be by myself. I was going to take annothor nighttime walk, but the spreading puddle of waste from the cesspool had grown in size and it had spread totaly around and undorneath the trailor. I looked down at the boiling sea of brown water bubbling beneath my feet. Ocasionaly a sprey of it shot up in the air thruogh a gap in the sun-warped planks.

"Hey stranger."

I turned arround and there was Cathyann. She was moving toword me. For some reason she was barefoot. Her dark eyes shone in the purple glow of the bug zapper. She grinned at me, her allmost perfectley round face looking oddly like that little flat-faced dog in As Good As It Gets as if someone had shaved all the hair off it. Ecxept mabye around the chin.

I heard some rawcous hoots from inside the trailor and asked her what was going on in there and she told me that they were all playing a drunken game of Pictionery based on various Seinfeld episodes and that Granfather was tryin to behave like Kramer when he had the gonnorhea. I was glad i was missing it.

"Ive been drinking" she said, "and I geuss you know atractive I find you when Ive been drinking."

For Godsake she was sittin on Granfather's lap not too long ago, and so i did not WANT to guess. The face moved closer to me. It grew in size till it became one of those large gap-toothed monsters in the childron's book classic Where The Wild Things Are. Do you know the one with the hiddeous pointy grin and the head that is perfectley round? I dont have the book in front of me but i think he is wearin a striped polo shirt. Well that was the face closing in on me, except with a large connected eyebrow and giant pores.

I reallized that my back was pressed hard on the egde of the porch railing, which tapered into a pointed bow.

I was cornered.

I was stuck, I was pinned. (Oh, I was screwed). I got dizzy. I had a waking dream that I was in a small spacecraft abbout to land on that mysterrious Face On Mars Mountain, and i was lookin out of the lowest porthole as the giant face got closer and closer, except it was Cathyann's face.

A meaty hand came up to remove the cigarete from her lips, which were smeared thick with brownish colored gloss as to look like two peices of marinatted flank steak. They parted, and she licked them sedductively. I felt a strong longing and a hot poworful rising from deep within my loins. The longing was to get the hell out of there. The hot rising was my lunch.

She tossed the smoke aside and moved closer, both her fists gripping the top wood railing on eithor side of me, each of her thumbs touching my narrow quivoring hips, quivoring as i struggoled to back away; a struggol to escape that caused splintors from the raggedy railing of the anceint peeling wood to dig rihgt through my black jeans and into my ass; A struggle that ultimatley ceased on my part as I was suddenly paralyzed when her huge, soft, warm, (ugh!) belly mashed into me pressing me compact agianst the that rickety 1950's era dry-rotted porch which creaked and groaned from her pressing tonnage.

"Kiss me, you fool," she breathed, as suddenly the eyes closed and the mouth openned and then I saw it: The tounge. Not any normol tounge, but a monstor, a leviathan of flesh. Veiny, purplish, pulsating, covored with goo, probing space, and reaching out toword me as I held my palms up, mashing them as hard as i coud agianst each of her cheeks, in order to keep the thing at bay. A mightey tree it was, a tube-steak. A giant smoked liverwourst that looked like the butcher peeled the casing off and hacked a blunt pointed end onto it, and then, holding it aloft, slapping it, waving it beffore my face said to me in a strong kosher accent, "It's a leetle over a pound. Do you still vant it?

Thank God I avoided the tounge--(for NOW atleast)

My only escape was up. Shaking like a leaf, I slowly raised my foot, then placed my heel on the lower rail behind me. Then, the othor heel, so i raised myself two feet up off the porch floor. My knees were tremboling as I removed my palms from her cheeks and lowored them to rest on the topmost rail in order to balance myself. Cathyann's face was now down by my stomack, (which, thankfuly, was now gurgling in allot of loud nervous unromantic noises which i hoped woud repulse her), and she rested her chin on it and looked up at me and said, "You don't remember, Walter. This is where we first met."

Then i remembered

How coud i forget? I was abbout 8 years old and she was 13. She had come to babysit for me and my brothor, who used to spend summers in Texas with our grandparents. There was some sort of Granfather-Related Trauma that had went on earlior that day, (I think it was the day he was sittin at the kitchon table burning hairs out of his nose with the electric flame thing you use to start the barbecue fire with, and becuase he was drinkin vodka he burped, and so a blaze shot across the room and seared the back of my head).

I had run out onto the porch bawling, and I remmember climbing on top of the rail, (wanting my stuppid familly to THINK that i was going to kill myself by jumping off.) I remmember i had took my Converse sneakors and socks off, and they were laying on the porch. And then i saw her, our new babbysittor, wearin one of those 1980's looking velour jumpsuits, heavey plastic Tootsie-like girls eyeglasses, and a frizzey version of a-man-dressed-like-Dorathy-Hamill-in-drag wedge haircut.

Also puffy vinyl stitched high-heel cowboy boots in pastel colors were in style too, and these she whipped off and climbed onto the fence aftor me, and as the whole porch shook I faultered and then she grabbed my skinny rib cage plucking me up screamming and hauled me into the house as I wailed and flailed. I think I also peed in my pants. It was houmilliating. I remmember Granfather said, "BOY, THET'S YER NEW BABYSITTER AN' I PROMISED HER AN EXTRA BUCK FIFTY IF'N SHE SNAPS YER TWIG NECK LIKE A DANM PENCIL."

Back to the present

So I said to her, "Oh, yeah, I DO remembor when we first met."

And then I climbed up onto the next level of porch railing, placing my feet on top. I looked down at the yard below. Liqiud sewage was everywhere, acummulating in giant dark pools, and lapping at the sides of the trailor.

I had to excape the clutches of this ovorly ammorous woman, who is suposed to just be my FREIND, not my GIRL-freind. I saw that it was onley abbout four feet down to the top of the garbege pail cabinet, which was still dry. I quickley wheeled arround in order to finaly leap off the porch, this time for real.

Just as i faced away from her, I felt Cathyann come up behind me and roughley grab my wrists. I looked down to see that her boots were once agian off, and now her feet were also balanced on the porch railing.

"I'll hold you up! Trust me! Trust me!" she whispored in my ear behind me, as a brisk gail wind whipped up right in my face, pushing my hair aside, and then sudenly just at the same time, with violent force she held my arms out crucifix-style, and nuzzoled my squirming neck with her wet mutton lips. I was so friggin scaired I thoght I was going to fall and crack my head or my ass that I danm near crapped right in my pants.

Just then the trailor door swung open.

It was Blankenship, the sceintist, and he apeared to have panic on his face.

"All points alert," he creid in his sharp Scottish accent.

"We cannah find the soobject. The soobject: It's amiss!"

The 'Soobject' of cuorse was Granfather. He had scampored off to hide somwhere in the trailor. We had to find the bastord becuase he is allways causing problems.


Sudenly Granfather made his frightening presence known: Way from the back pantrey of the trailer we heard this awful munching sound. Peoplle from rurol areas will know what I am talking abbout when I mention that the sound was just like hogs eating soybeans in a feild. You know the gulping piglike noise, especialy when they swallow the pods whole. Somtimes if the wind is blowing right you can hear it all the way out from the danm highway. Well that was the noise.

Me, Uncle Zeke and one of the criptozoologists, (Madison actualy), went ovor to the pantrey door and started beatin it down cause the bastord had locked it. We found him sprawled on the floor, and the huge wooden case of rancid iceberg lettice CONPLETLY EMPTY!

No one knew what to say becuase we were all in shock. Granfather scowled back at us with his yellow-irised, red-pupiled diamend-shaped reptilian eyes in a deadpan staire, and finaly began to speak.

This was SO enbarassing for me

Madison is African-Amerrican and Granfather starts makking this mimick voice and saying:


Also he was callin him his "homey" and tellin him to 'Slap Me Five.'. I was so houmilliated and I imediatly apollogized for the behavore of my rude antecedant. You see, Granfather's best freind, his deranged Army pal who lives in Oklohoma is also a Afrrican-American, and this is the way Granfather greets him on the phone, and that man in turn calls Granfather "Whitey", but this is because of an arangement the two of them had in advance to make fun of each othor. Granfather, rude presumptuous politicaly incorect sonoffobich that he is, had no such arangement with this gentelman.

Madison was very nice abbout it and explainned to me in simpol, clinical terms that he, (along with Blankenship, who has his Scottish acent made fun of by the bastord all the time), both veiw Granfather not as a fellow human being with a sence of right and wrong but as a horrible marvel of nature with an only partly develloped proto-simian brain. Sadley, i had to agree with him.

A third-class Being.

A study done on the old basterd by one of the universitties in the Former Soveit Unoin classifies human and animol speceis as 'First Class' beings, and also hypothosizes that aliens from other planets (once we discovor them, of course), are somthing called Second Class Biengs. Now, unknown biologicol entities, (posibbly hybrids of the first two), are designatted Third Class Beings. This is the class that Granfather belongs to. And he is sitting way the hell at the back ofthe class.

Sadly, I had to agree with that too.

And so did Uncle Zeke, who while he was standing there with the bolth of us watching Granfather squatted on the floor like an evil frog with his face caked with mucky chewed rancid lettuce sternley snapped, "Take off that dagnab Tam O'Shantor, you dang fool sumbitch. You done look like Monica Lewinsky's anorectic great-grandmaw."

Granfather's reaction