Walter Miller's Homepage

It's hard to make a comeback when youve never acomplished anything

May update 1999 (yes i know its July)

Page 1 of 8


When we last left off...

I had been writing about how Granfather was freed from the giant penettrative occupation of his intestinal cavity from up the ass by a foray of half a ton of dryed bathroom tile grout that was actualy wet when it was injected up there after it was stuffed in a giant enema and forcibly and rectally adminnistrated by his two older half brothors who did it as way to try to kill the old basterd.

Regarding that mattor, our family is still recovoring from an unexpected and ghastley complication. Yes you geussed it, Granfather survived. It was stuck in there a few months.

From Sphinctor to shining Sphinctor.

The cement stayed in there, seeping way the hell up his gut allthe way to the pyloric sphinctor which as you may know if you ever took biology or else gutted deer is all the way up to where the intestines meet the stomoch.

But as I mentionned he was freed. Please ecxuse me for not mentioning in my last update exactley how he was freed, and this brings up a point, anothor interresting point, and that is my delays, my awfull delays in gettin these hompage updates done in a timely mannor. It has to do with a court injunction.

Here on my homepage, I have been chronnicling Granfather's creul abuse of me, as well as detailled descriptions of him for a few years now. The old basterd dosent always read them all, but recently, during his ensconcement of a ton of grout up his ass he had a chance to read some of the 500 or so pages which since 1995 make up Walter Miller's Home Page(TM).

Well Granfather was horiffied. He actualy got a judge to issue an injunction that woud prevent me from writing updates that include slandorrous depictions of him. I, in responce contacted two organnizations that deal with freedom of speech ovor the internet. There was a big lengthey meeting, and it turns out that as far as the law is concerned, there is a fine line betwean slandor and free expresion. A respected lawyor explained it to me: Somthing about my right to swing my arm in the air, a right which ends at Granfather's nose. (Not that I woud want my arm to touch his disgousting nose.)

Anyway: The bottom line

Granfather agreed not to proceede with his expensive lawsiut agianst me for slander (that he woud probly lose anyway, because, number one, it is on shaky legol ground, and, number two, he really is that disgousting, a true personiffication of "number two" if you will); While I, in return, agree to pubblish a letter of appollogy to Granfather for the pain I caused him. (I am still working on that apollogy and it will apear in a later update. I had to promise that the apologey woud be spelled corectly too.)

One more thing I had to apollogize for was for spreading this awful story that hapenned to Granfather when he was 17 years old. I never shared this story on my website but I did tell a coupol of people in our town, to great enbarassment to Granfather, and also my Dad, who asked me not to.

The story is disgousting and true, howevor I had to promise not to talk about it any more.

You know folks, I am often acused of making up varrious things that apear on my homepage, whether it be descritptions of Granfather, or else my entire sittuation. Some have even sugested that "Walter Miller's Hone Page" is merely a work of fiction writton by a small staff of internet industry malcontents. Actualy the truth is that I am a real person with real feelings with a real sittuation and living with an unreal old cruel angry bitter old man who takes delite in torturring me.

Sonething else I had to agree to

As part of avoiding yet anothor heart wrenching and houmiliating inter-family lawsuit I had to sign somthing that said that I agree NOT TO WRITE ANYMORE about certian parts of his anatomy, including, (but not limited to) his ass, his balls, and OTHOR DISGOUSTING PARTS OF HIM in that region of his body.

Also his gas and odor. For this I appollogize. I know that this is one of the reasens you read this hompage. I will none the less try to mak it an interresting read. I know it will be a challenge. As Granfather himself told me, in a rare erudite osbervation, "sort of like painting with a limmited pallete."

Well let me tell you my palate was limited to bland foods for a week aftor watching what went on in that auto body shop.

OK now i will tell you how the grout came out of him: So there he was in the garage bay, hangin by his repulsively skinney and ovorly long, freakishly hairy apelike arms which were tyed over his tiny head with a couple of engine block tackol chains swung ovor a steel beam raftor. As Granfather screammed obscenities and bucked and thrashed his legs, the grout plug slowly disengaged itself.

Workin it out from both ends

In order to proporly lubricate his vicious viscerals, his guts were pumped with viscuos compounds, slippory stuff if you will to help guide out the mass of rock hard tile plastor. The compounds, (which were delivered by high presure into an orifice that, by pryor agreement I am no longer alowed to discuss on my home page) includded high grade lithium grease, graphite powdor pellets, and this sort of watery versien of KY jelly, (Yuck), that is avialable over the counter and comes in small cylindors with a nozzel on top.

Meanwhile Granfather's squeals of pain were muffoled by a large reticulated zinc funnol in his moulth into which laxatrives and transmission fliud were poured.

He was clearly in agonizing pain.

As the weight of the grout dessended, Granfather's danm guts were literolly being pulled out of his, um, a naturolly ocurring passege way down in his lower regions that I am not alloud to discribe. So insted what they did was flip the old basterd upsidedown.

All during his ensconsment in the grout, (or rathor, the grout in him), Granfather was sitting on a big circulor base of dryed tile cement which was caused by the remaindor of grout that his brothers coudnt squeeze into him. It was this circulor base that they swung up on the tackol chains. Once they did this, Granfather was now hanging below, and uppsidedown.

He quickley slid off the impailment very very fast.

In fact he flew off, like those guys zooming down the icy luge in the Winter Olynpics. But as you know, the human intestine has many twists and turns and so Granfather, sliding off upsied down flew and looped thruoght the air with every curve of the alimentary canal.

The old basterd howled and shreiked while whippin thruogh the air like a ragdoll being viollently shook by that small vinol tag that says Recycled Materiol atached to his ass, (the ragdoll's ass, NOT Granfather's ass which i am not aloud to write about on my hompage), and as I stood there and looked at him, my lungs aflame from inhailing the fetid stink (the stink from rancid auttomobile grease, of course, not Granfather's stink which I am not alowed to write about), and as I stood there I was sure that the pain he was experriencing was just as great as when he was right side up. And as I looked at Granfather I started crying. I turned away so no one coud see but coght a glimpse of my refflection in a highley polished chrome wheel covor on a car on another lift across the garage, and my face crumpoled and turned red as the tears rolled out of my eyes. I ofton wish I wasnt so danm emotionol.

Dr. Blankenship who is one of the researchers who studies Granfather put his arm on my shouldor and said in his thick Scotish broage, "Aye, as bluddy 'orrible the whole thing is, ye still love him."

I said to him thruogh my blubering, "No, i am cryin because he is so disgousting and I am so ashamed to be relatted to him."

Later that night

Later that night the old basterd was home and sittin up for the first time in months and resting confortobly drinkin whisky and screammin at the Kosovo sittuation TV at the top of his lungs with a cigar cletched in his teeth, "GARDAMMIT!

"IT ORTA BE A LAW: OUR COUNTRY DON'T GO TO WAR AGINST NO LITTLE COUNTRIES THET AL GORE CAIN'T FIND ON THE MAP!"

a freind comes to visit