Fall 1997 Wedgie Page Update

Bruoght to you by Walter Miller Home Page(TM) Productions(R)

Family Wedgie Tales: Story 3 of 4

Many many years ago, a horrofying string of sudden evvents tore thru the fabric of our family.

It was the late 1930s. The nation was at peace. Franklen Rosevelt was in the White House. The song "Cheek to Cheek", (as you might guess for a wedgie tale) was at the top ofthe charts. And sevoral state govorments still sterolized undesirobles. (Somehow Granfather elluded this treatment, abbout which Id say, six decades later, is probly cause for mixed blesings.)

Anyway, my crusty ancestor was age 6 and his family, who travelled around alot in those days, were living in annother part of Texas. Him and his 2 brothers who were 16 and 18 were hauling bails of hay. Even tho Granfather was just 6, the old bastord (known in those days as "the young bastord") was a wiry little monster as strong as a man who coud carry a fullsized bale on his hairy little leathory musculor back.

The family lived in a shack & didnt have a barn so they stored the hay in an abbandoned old falling-down farmhouse on the neighborring tract, hauling the bales upstairs and stackin them in emptey bedrooms. These were low class itinorent farm folk, yet were a proud people. (One of them a bit TOO proud. And biologicly speaking, not 'people' eithor).

Granfather, evil even at age 6, was a cruel terror. He kept kicking his brothors behind the knee to make them fall with the heavey bale while climbing the stairs or else splashing them in the eye with chaw spit.

His oldest brothor, my Uncle William thuoght they shoud teach the little savage a lesson. He grabbed the scrimpy beast by the waist while Uncle Zeke, the 16 yearold, clasped a hay hook onto his knickors and hanged him on a wall sconce where he flailed like a rat.

In any case Id say he deserved it

"MUH SHORTS IS IN MUH ASS!" he wailed, acording to the story. They told him this was his punnishment, and NOT for spite or malice as both boys had toumbled down the stairs with heavy bales because of the little troll. Granfather cryed "LET ME DOWN OR I'LL RUN A PITCHFORK THRU BOTH YOU SUMBITCHES."

These were the days beffore synthettic fabrics so the knickers soon tore, giving way to drop the little basterd who hit the woodfloor headfirst (perhaps inproveing his ogre like face). He sprang back on his tiny clawed feet and sudenly leaped in the air right onto Uncle Zeke who was closest to him.

This is the horoble disgusting part: He bit clean off poor Uncle Zeke's nose.

Uncle Willaim dosent remember how but he gathored up the poor middle brothor who was now unconscous and also in 2 parts and dashed him across the feild where there mother atcualy got a needle and thread and sowed his nose BACK ON i swear i AM NOT MAKIN THIS UP.

First she made Zeke drink from the whisky still which was half full of homemade corn spirits to deaden the pain, and even though there was a dead mouse at the bottem of the still he drank it down fast with no compliants. (And besides the alchohol kills mouse germs anyway.)

She was real good at sowing.

The nose healed ammazingly fast in these dark times before Neosporrin. Sulfer medocine and musterd poultice kept away infection. The next day as my poor Uncle layed on his belly in bed recooperating, with his head over a bucket to drain his sore nose, the tiny monster crept in the shack when he was suposed to be doing more farm work.

The poisonuos lad's tapereing wizened fingers slowly unbuttoned the rear trapdoor of the older boy's longjohn skivvies, then curled up into small mean fists arround the corners of the red flannol ass flap.

Digging his evil juvenile bony heels into the straw mattress, he made a huge fart that startoled my uncle (who somehow thuoght for an instant that the bull had escaped his pen and got into the shack) and before he coud bolt, Granfather gave him such a poworful hiking so deep that the shins on the underwear ripped.

(I wont go into the extent of the dammage this wedgie did, but Zeke did reqiure a few more homemade sticches, and by this time they were all out of corn liqour for him to drink.)

Where was the oldor brother?

Uncle Willian had been charged with watching the small terror. Instead he was in the abbandoned house hangin from that same wall sconce--with 4 hay hooks in his underwaer so he woudnt fall.

Granfather, (also known in those days as "Hell's Hatchling", a nickname from a locol minister), had whacked Uncle Will cold with a bottol of Old Doc Parson's Elixer and Linament For Ladies' Unmentionable Complaints and in a dazed stuppor while hung uppsidedown heard these words from the young reptile:


As punishment for his shocking behhavoir over those 2 days, little Granfather was suposed to be taken to reformatory.

More Wedgies.

The family paid 50 cents each (allot of money in those days) to 2 local burly men to lash him up and haul him to Refformatory in a wagon but he beat the crap out of both men. One was found hung over night by his boxers in wedgie position from a locust tree knob, bound with cotton baling wire, weeping like a girl. The other man presented my family with a ruined pair of farm ovoralls and a demand for 50 cents more to buy a new pair. They were ruined when the child, while facing him, pounced on him head on, landing his bony knees on the man's shouldors, then locked his sinewy juvvenile thighs agianst his ears, then reached downword to power-wedge the big man's workclothes up his own ass.

The nose Today

Althuogh today Uncle Zeke's nose is large and crooked like all the honkers in my family you cant realy tell it was sowed back on unless you look real close. When I was a little boy i was on Uncle Zekes lap lookin real close at his nose marvelling at the excelent handiwork of a backwoods seamstress and somthing strange hapenned. Unlike Granfather, Uncle Zeke is slow moving and dull witted, but when i peered my face too close at his face to examine his stitches he hollared, bolted off the couch and threuw me clean across the room.

Later he told me that it was a bad memory flashback and he appologized.

Granfather claims that Uncle Zeke had to wear my one of my greatgrandmother's pettycoats as undershorts all winter till they all got a new pair in the spring but to this day Zeke denies it. Yet he still bears the mentol scars of wedgie-rellated houmiliation.

Zeke Speaks

"Because of one diddly, ill-timed 'Pull-Yon-Up' with a hay hook thar in the old abandoned farmhouse, thet I woud say the lil' basterd deserved anyway," Uncle Zeke reminnisced, in an exclusive intorview with the Wedgie Page(TM) Staff earlior this month, "I durn near lost muh here dagnab sniffer; Honest Injun."

In case you dont know...

...a "Pull-Yon-Up" is what they called Wedgies in the rurol South West. 'Wedgie' is is a post-Worldwar II terminnology said to of first been designated so in the Pacific Theator of the War. In the first World War they were known as "Trenchers" and in the Civil War, (at least in Texas), a "Gulcher."

It is only now i can share this story.

For years Granfather's 2 brothers wanted to keep it secret but now they both relented and we can talk about it. Partly it was out of shame and also cause Uncle Zeke was afraid he woudnt find a wife if she knew his got nose bit off and sowed back on--and that it hapenned because of a WEDGIE. But hes in his seventeies now and nevor found a wife anyway, so what the hell. Also my uncles wanted the world to know what a nasty bastord their little brothor (my Granfather) is.

By the way, Granfather himself never denied the incodent, always bragged openly abbout it, and never oppologized--either for bitin off the nose OR kicking them while they carried the bales.

The morol of the story

I was goingto write in this spot that you shoudnt give Wedgies because the people gettin them will grow up to be bad and mean, but it seems as if the evil little bastord was already somwhat 'cracked' to begin with.

The last Family wedgie story: Told first "Hand" cause i was the one who got wedged.