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Late April 98 Update--coming to you in Earley May!

Page 2 of 7

Picking up where we left off in the last updatte, Granfather's two older brothers, Uncle Wiliam and Uncle Zeke have been visitting us from the East Coast. They planned to stay only abbout 2 or 3 days but they will now be here atleast till the end of May because Zeke has three court dates in two sepparate counties involving arrests rellated to two public disturbences and one count of Atempted Murder that we hope will be plea bargianed down to a domestic disturbence. Please do not think my Uncle is a truoble-maker he is actualy a mild-mannored if not gruff man who allways obeys the law. The problem is with Granfather, who has started all the fights.

Uncle Wiliam is very ill and is close to death and his lungs cannot tollerate how bad Granfather smells. He was in a motel to begin with but then got moved to a hospitol. People somtimes think I make up how bad Granfather stinks but I am not. Uncle Zeke howevor is still sleeping in my room while I am in the rollaway in the living room.

Yes. The rellationships in my family are strange ones.

You are probly wondering why my Uncle is still stayin with us when he has a charge of Atemppted Murder agianst him. Many times, when members of my familly are around Granfather, you will find that you have to call the cops. If it is in a public place, then usualy someone calls the cops for you. But in any case, after the arrests, bookings and release, things usualy return to normol. Things actualy become somewhat social, and very often peoplle who were tryin to kill eachothor 10 minutes before, will then cordially go out for supper in a restuarant. (Ofton this is necesery, because many of the dishes and furniture is busted from the fight).

Please, do not tell me i have a disfunctionnol family: I already know.

Why we are going out to eat lateley: Our stove is ruinned.

It is becuase fried cheese got all ovor the stove and it willnot come off. As you know one of Granfather's favorrite meals is freid melted cheese. Here's how you make it: You put chunks of it in the microwaive and nuke it on Powor Control High in a stoneware dish till it all colappses into a large bubbly pancakey-looking thing where the edges get black and chewey and there is a pool of oil in the centor. (Your cooking time will vary: Each microwave ovon is diferent, so in our house we zap it until the smoke alarm goes off.)

Next, you drain the cheese oil in a No-Stick pan and flop the vulcanized cheese flapjack on top of it and cook the broiling dairy disk on a high flaime till its all black. You are suposed to use chedder cheese: My misteak was buying hard Locatelli grating cheese which has allot less oil, plus 8 or nine minutes in the nuker just makes it dry and fluffy. By the time i got it onto the pan, it bubboled out and ruined the glass quartz top of the stove and dribboled ovor the egde onto the door of the dishwashor.

Then Granfather did somthing stupid--but what else is new?

The hungrey old bastord as dumb as he is dove for the dripping mass of cheeze magma and it burned his lips and tounge which are now covored with giant watery blisters the size of those Vitamin E capsoules.

Of cource I got blamed for this. Granfather is especialy angry becuse no restuarrants in our area serve freid cheese.

How the Atempted Murder charge hapenned

There was Granfather stuck to the door of the dishwascher by his lips. I tell you, the molten cheeze had him stuck better than Krazy Glue. Any cook will tell you to nevor underestimmate the power of melted cheese: It can get hotter than lava. In this case it litorally fused Granfather's disgousting lips to a metal panel.

Uncle Zeke saw him there and imediatly ran out of the trailor in his long loping steps out to one of the far sheds mabye 500 yards from the propperty to get a heavy coal shovel to beat the back of Granfather's head with, while the prone sub-human bastord remmained on his knees and stuck to the enamoled surface of the kitchon appliance.

Uncle Z. is not too bright, becuase along that 500 yard trail to that far shed there are many heavy imploments, and in fact you pass two sheds full of tools. But my Uncle lator told me that he saw that old coal shovol there 30 years ago, and so he went striaght for it while ignorring the othor stuff and nearley gave himself a heart atack becuase he is like 74 years old and shoudnt run so far and hard on his gargatuon spindly legs. He stumboled back into the trailor on his huge clumsey feet heaving and wheezing, "Here's muh chance to kill thet ol' varmint haint."

A 'haint' is a Texas dialect word for a ghastley monstor. It is a good diallect word because that is what Granfather is. Uncle Zeke leant his heel on the top of the shoval blade, fixing the bottom edge of it on the back of Granfather's neck, wedging it between two of his proto-saurian neck vertabrays, and he leaned and pitched foword with all his ungainley weight, and at least sixty years of pent up brotherly hate.

Granfather's nose and moulth were clogged with massed molton cheese and so he coudnt scream, howevor he was able to breathe thruogh his rudimentery gill slits behhind his ears, and saliva and mucus and blowing air errupted out of the scaly fishlike slant-shaiped openings. Uncle Zeke was gasping and hollaring that he was going to sevor Granfather's head with the shovel, and then put it in a glass pickol jar.

Sudenly, a stroke of bad luck

Yes, Granfather lived. Anytime Granfather survives, it is truely bad luck for everyone. Our tellephone is set to imediatly go to the answoring machene, but at the ecaxt moment when the tape runs out, the call will pick up, if it hapens to be set on the Speakerphone.

Well, that is exactly what hapenned. The phone started ringing.

It was the County Clerk calling.

He was calling to say that he will be suing Granfathor in a civil case, (in adition to a criminol case), as a result of the "Prairie Whitefish Incodent."

The Countey Clerk had been warned by his own attorny that he, (the Clerk) shoud not call Granfather directly, but only the lawyers shoud -- but the County Clerk is so filled with vituperrous rage agianst Granfather that he cannot help himself from callin up to hollar and scream.

In any case, when he called, the speakorphone picked up, and he heard Zeke bellowing, "I aim to cleave yer golldang head clean off yer carcass with this here coal shovol you little sumbitch," and so he assumed that it was Granfather screamming about killing ME. And so the County Clerk disspatched the Sheriff to our house.

The sheriff Comes

Also the County Clerk was with him, and the first thing the clerk did was march into the trailor and take the casette tape out of the answoring machine which had the threat of intended murder reccorded on it, and place it in a plastic eviddence bag and hand it to the sheriff.

"But I had assumed..."

BOY OH BOY, you shoud of seen the look on the County clerks face when him and the sheriff reallized that my Uncle was makking the threat, NOT the bastord. The chagrin, the disapointment, the giant letdown of not having Granfather arrested -- Not to mention, the deep, solemn, shattoring sence of regret as he reallized that Granfather woud of been killed if only he had nevor called the sheriff.

Alls the poor Clerk kept saying ovor and over was:

"But I had assummed...!
"But I had assummed...!
"But I had assummed...!"

I had nevor beffore seen an elected oficial at the county level cry beffore, until that day. Evor since the arrest of my Uncle, the Clerk is now workin like crazy to get the charges dismissed agianst Zeke, and he even posted bail and is paying his lawyor fees.

His hope: That aftor the chardges are dropped, Zeke will indeed murder the sonnoffobbich.

Meanwhile I had to free Granfather

His lips were virtualley glued to the danm dishwasher door. No mattor what we did I coud not free him. As the bastord stopped struggling, he calmed down. We actualy had a lucid, almost tranqiul conversation abbout what we shoud do next. We faced the reallization that he might have to have the dishwasher atached to his face for the next few weeks or months of the near indeffinite future. Granfather shook his head "no", as best as he coud with his lips cemented.

""STUCK TO AN APPLIANCE? BEEN THERE, DONE THAT," said the grisly old geezer.


I try to free the beast

I went to the barn to get the tools to remove the door from the dishwasher; we both figuored in resignation that just the door glued to one's face is preferrable to having a whole dishwasher stuck. Just as I retturned with the ratchet wrench I found Granfather sitting on the floor cross legged. It seems that his lips were stuck on the enamelled surface of the door allright -- but we had forgotton that the enamel panel was actualy a removabble square of zinc sheet metol. This panel, abbout 25 inches on each side, slid into a shallow frame on the front of the dishwasher door. Yes, we only bought the dishwashor last year, and it had come with a black panel and also a white one, in case you redecorrate your kitchon to a new color. The bastord wriggoled and wiggled till it popped out.

"THIS HERE I COUD LIVE WITH," said Granfather.


Granfather is a sick bastord. As you know from readding my prior updates, he still has that plastic scarecrow owl atached to the upper back part of his head by aluminum spikes drilled into his skull. It towers abbove him more that two feet. The new white zinc dishwashor door panel stuck on Granpy's face obscured all of the plastic owl ecxept the tops of his tufted ears. The maniacal derranged ogre insisted that I also cut eye holes out for the danm owl too.

Guess who we run into the next day

After Zeke's arrest, he elected to spend the night in the pokey if only to be away from the bastord for a few hours. On our way over, we stopped to gas up the car and also buy beef jerky and cigarettes. The County Clerk was exiting the front door of the Mini-Mart, and to his restrained horror, saw 10 yards away none othor than Granfather facing him, and leaning agianst the County Clerk's car as it sat in front of the pump while being gassed up. The old bastord, standing up with the aid of his alunimum walker, rested his evil chin on top of his bony folded hands, which, along with the bottom edge of the zinc panel were propped on the car roof. Granfather's malignent yellow eyes staired at him thruogh the crudely cut holes in the centor of the shiny field of glairing white painted sheet metol. The plastic owl too, staired out of his eye holes also.

"WELL, MISTER COUNTY CLERK," Granfather oozed to him in his most oily, slippory false genial voice, "YOU SAID LAST NIGHT THAT 'YOU HAD ASSUMED'."


(I knew what was the next line to come -- I am sure that you know what it is too):


Then Granfather cackled in that evil schreiking laugh that is a cross between the 'Tailes of the Crypt' ghoul and the Wickad Witch of the West in the Wizord of Oz.

After shouting back at the bastord "Get away from my car!", the Countey Clerk added that Granfather was the only one being made an ass of...

...That is, untill the Clerk approached, suddenly realizzing that while old bastord was in that odd standing position with his chin on the roof and snakelike belly pressed agianst the side of the automobile, the beast was urinnating into his gas tank.

Have you evor been so angry that you cant holler, you cant scream, you cant even cry -- but alls you can do is just silently shiver as if you are cold? That is what this poor man did. As he stumbled into the drivers seat, fumbling with his car keys and lookin all clammy and pale, Granfather crouched next to the drivers side window and peered in.

"CAIN'T SEE NO CLOUDS, BUT IT SURE SOUNDS LIKE THUNDER," said Granfather as he wiggled the thin metol sheet atached to his face so it tremboled in a vibrating woopi! woopi! woopi! noise. "I'D SAY ITS EL NINO, YESIREE,"

othor things we did while we were in town