Walter Miller's Homepage

WARNING: It stinks.

The SECOND of Two Febuery 1999 Updates

Page 1 of 5


This update begins as so many do: With an embarasing dysfunctionol family event. That once agian involves the Authorrites. Yes there is nothing more houmilliating, more mortiffying, so awffly shameful as to have to call in outsidors like the cops (or in the case of Granfather, Animal Control Units from the State Agricultorol Office) in order to calm things down.

Well, mabye there is somthing more houmiliating: having an acount of it apear on the web for the world to read.

When my last update ended, my brother had a shotgun pressed to Granfathers face. Beleive you me he woud of killed him. It probly woud of took a couple of shots being that Granfather's skull is so thick and husky, and the brain underneath so small, but I sware to God he woud of kilt him

I take drastic Action

Unable to bare the strain of the horiffic vision of Granfather being murdered, I called the Sheriff in town at his home and told him what was going on. I was tryin to controle myself on the phone but upset at the whole thing I started cryin and then I started hyperventillating. The sheriff is a kindly old guy and he told me to calm down.

911 Abusers

Ill bet your wonderring why I called the sheriff at home directly and not 911. As you know, the county has blocked 911 access from all of the home telephonnes at our adress, because we are oficially designated as 911 abusors."

We used to get a recording on 911 of a plesent womon's voice tellin us that "Access to this feature has been blocked" and also if we reqiure emergency medicol service to please call a private amboulance. However, a locol judge with a mean sence of humor who once ran in a dirty politicol race agianst the sheriff, and who still harbers ill will toword him, made a jugdement that all 911 calls must go directley to the sherif's office -- and if he is off duty to his HOME.

"GO 'HAID AN' SHOOT ME, BWAH!"

Granfather was screammin like a maniac at my brothor, daring him to pull the trigger. The more he did this the more upsett I got and the more upset I got the more I creid. So then he started also hollerin at me to stop cryin.

"QUIT THET GIRLY BAWLIN!', he shoutad at the top of his lungs with an unlit cigarete tightley cletched in his teeth, "YOU SOUND LIKE JEWEL IF SHE DONE STUBBED HER TOE WHILE BEEN SUCKIN ON HELIUM!"

Yes I admitt I do not have a masculline, manly cry. I bawl like a girl. I canot help it. Besides, it is just infront of my familly. (and the Internet).

There are othor reasons why I was cryin too.

I was upsett not only becuase my brothor had a gun trained to the basterd's face...

(It was hard for me to admitt, but it was true: The anticippated shame of having a rellative who was a murderrer of his own Granfather was less shamefull to me than the present shame of having a living, existing rellative as disgoussting as Granps merely existing); but there were othor reasens why i was upsett: one reason why I was cryin was that I was still very much "indented."

If you just finished readin my last updatte you will know that I had this teribble sittuation where a part of my male anattomy, the part that is somtimes given to "shrinkage", (and, in my case, OK, I will admitt, is not all that big in size to start with even in its unshrunken shape), had not only shrunk but had shrunk so much and far in that you coud no longer see it. I am not makin this up.

I appollogize

I apologize to all my readders. One is that my deaddlines for doing my updates is so crappy lateley. Please try to undorstand that I am not just a figgment of the internet's immagination, but I am real human persen with a semi-human Granfather who demands allot of atention and who has a real demmanding job. (Also, we are low-staffed -- we used to have 5 Walters writing this thing and we are down only to 3. ...Only kidding...Mabye).

I apologize also for my consistent and selfish preoccuppation with myself and my emmotionol problems. I have been in therappy and one of the things that is constantley being adressed in my sessions is my tendencey to blow things out of propportion. Somtines I do it so peopple pay atention to me or for pity. Also I have a low self esteem. I know. Its imature. I am imatture. I am also introverted...

Introverted yes, but this is ridicullous

I am talkin here about my shrunken schwinker.The way it looks (or rathor dosent) is enuogh to give anyone a poorselfimage.

OK enuogh about me

How the sheriff defused the sittuation

The sheriff, who I coud barely hear over the phone ammist all the howling and screamming, kept tryin to talk in my ear. The sherriff, who has delt with my family before on many ocasions and shares a vituperrous (if not routinely ocupational) hatred of Granfather which spawls across a six-county wide area, asked to be put on speakorphone.

He thretennes my brother

The sheriff told my brothor to put the danm shotgun down and put the basterd on speakorphone. My brother woudnt do it but at least I put on the speakar. The sheriff is gettin old and wants badly to retire soon and in many ways is a wise man. Having to be the sheriff in the same county as Granfather has takken allot of years off the poor man's life but I beleive his steady hand and good jugdement has preserved our family. I beleive since the 1950s he has arested Granfather a total of 166 times, once acording to legend even on his own weding day.

Hes not only preserved our familly but has a few times saved Granfather's life. It is for these things that i will never forgive the sheriff.

"Put the gun down," he said to my brother, "I'd hate to have to come out there and arrest y'all."

It was at this point that Granfather started wailling and cryin.

"THAY'RE TRYIN TO KILL ME SHERIFF!"

Then he started his fake weeping. There is no one who can fake cry like the old reptillian basterd. I dont know how he does it but he makes fake tears in a mattor of seconds. The way we deal with this is to just let the old beast blubbor away as to get it out of his systom.

"I CAN'T HELP HOW I IS, SHERRIF!
NOT WITH THIS HERE THANG UP MUH BEE-HIND! BWAAAH! BOO-HOO-HOO!"

How the Sheriff calmed down the Old Basterd