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Still afloat after all this time. ...(Of course, if you think about it, a lot of nasty things float).

The Humilliatingly LATE Update covering Aogust, September and Octobor 2000

Page 17 of 39

But fortunatly, Zeke does not yet know WHAT the Island it is--or its mirraculous World Record significance.

Howevor: my thickheaded dullwitted great-Uncle, (acording to Stu, who recounted Granfatheres enraged ranting in precise detail), Zeke is begining to get curious.

In fact he even stuck his skinny old fingor in the water and licked it. When he did this it caused some tiny waves. The island bobbed arround a little, and has begun to list a little below sea level near where the Panhandle meets the Cape of Good Hope. Yes Granfather has given the danm thing landmarks.

"Walter, you have the most interresting life," Stu told me, but I did not hear what he said as I ran off as fast as I coud back to the cafeterria area.

But it was locked.

Cathyann and Tilde were both gone. The Zima was still in the backroom. Surely Granfather woud kill me. At 9:30 PM the resume was finaly done. Stu emailed it directly to his freind who works for TechnoDigiMeriCom(R), then folowed up with a phonemail basicaly asking him to arrange an interveiw for me with the TechnoDigiMeriCom(R) hiring office. Stu is a great freind.

On my way home for the whole 2 hour drive I kept my cellphone turned off. I knew that Granfather woud be calling and wondoring why I am late: and also screamin at him that I once agian forgot to ask Cathyann to get me that Zima. But to my supprize Cathyann was actualy there at my house when I arrived.

In fact, allot of people were there

There were allot of cars there. It was like a danm party. My brother's car was there, and so was Tilde's big black Lincoln Navigeter parked askew on the gravel apron, (she must of drove Cathyann back to town being she was so drunk); Junior's car was there, the Criptozooligists' van was there, and so was anothor van, this one with Mexican lisense plates.

There was allot of loud noise and music too. Sombody was playing Stevie Ray Vaughn really loud. When I walked up the porchsteps Granfather met me at the door.

"YOU LITTLE DUMBASS!!," he screammed in a sprey of chewing tobbaco juice and also bits of lit cigaret from the Lucky Strike gripped in his teeth. Yes Granfather is one of these people who smokes and chews at the same time, and somtimes even with a second cigorette in his hand. He is the worlds most horrible disgousting creature. The old basterd woud smoke a cigar out of his ass if he coud I swear it.

I was teriffied that Cathyann had forgoton the Zima, and asked the old monster if she brought it.

"YEH, SHE BROGHT IT. BUT WHUT THE HELL IS SHE DOIN' HERE? AND WHUTS THE LITTLE TOADFACE DOIN' HERE TOO? AM I RUNNIN' A DAGNAB SALOON?"

The 'toadface' as you know is Tilde. The old basterd was pissed cause Cathyann (who he normaly likes) was stompin all around the trailer on her big treetrunk legs, and this was shaking the glass that held his Metamucil Miracle.

"Granfather," I asked him, "What is all that packing tape around your belly?" The old basterd turned around and faced his back toword me. A hose was stickin out of the rear waistband of his sagging adult diapor.

"FOR A DUMBASS, YOU AT LEAST DID HAVE ONE GOOD THOUGHT IN YOUR LIFE: MADISON DONE USED YOUR HOSE IDEAR.

"AND IT WORKS RIGHT NIFTY."

I thoght I was going to get sick looking at it. What I had sugested out of sarcastic anger, was now being used: Yes, in order to keep Granfather from making a massive fart and thearfore sink the Magical Island of Metamucil, a big long black rubber hose, the type that drains grey soap water out of a washing machine was indeed stuck up his butt. It looped onto the floor and across the room, with the oppossite end of it sweeping up to hang ovor the sill and out the trailer window.

"THEM DOGS CHAINED OUT IN THE YARD DON'T LIKE IT ONE BIT, AND SO FAR TWO OF OUR CHICKENS IS ALREADY DEAD," said Granfather, yelling above the noise with a severe, serious face. The old basterd contineud his thought in a pontifficol tone, "HOWEVER: LET ME MAINTAIN, THAT I AM DETERMINED TO PAY ANY PRICE TO SECURE MAH RIGHTFULL SPOT IN THE WORLD RECORD BOOK."

The other problem with Cathyann being there was that she was bothering Uncle Zeke. She basicaly forced the Zima on Uncle Zeke, who sudenly got too suspicious to drink it.

"Drink up, big feller," she barked, and shook his giant shouldor hard in an overly freindly way, "Thar's poor lighting and cheap women here, and if everybody gits a little more juiced up, why you might just find yerself lucky! BWAHAHAHA!"

Zeke meanwhile sat alone thumbing through an old world Atlas. He mumboled to himself, "Metamucil Island. I hear folks talk about it. Now whar the hell is it on the dagnab map?"

Closed off feelings are normol for my abnormol family

Also, Tilde's presence in our house was an unwelcome distraction. She kept bothering Uncle Zeke by sittin next to him and trying to get him to "share" with her about his family problems of dysfunctionallity and transposition. And also "blocking", which, having been in therapy myself, can probly tell you that Zeke does allot in family situations.

Even thuogh Uncle Zeke was closing off his feelings it is hard for some codeppendents to see that not everyone wants their help.

For most of the time that Tilde chirped away in her emmpathettic chirping tone, and petting his arm in simpathy, Zeke merely staired straight ahead walleyed in his glum silent way. Finaly he exploded and bellowed, "Woman, stop chewin' mah ears with all them big old words!"

"Esta Milagro!"

Cathyann also kept gettin in the way of the film crew of "Esta Milagro!" which in case you dont know is a Mexican cable TV show that focusses on paranormol phennomena. They have been to our house many times to study Granfather. He's been the source of three documenterries however on this occasion they had to keep interuppting filming cause of Cathyann's loud bleating laughs. Also she kept walkin her big fat ass in the way of the cameras.

Another posible TV opportunity for Granfather

Granfather was very hopefull that the Guiness Prime Time TV show and also Ripleys Believe it or Not show on TBS might posibly pick up the Metamucil Miracle, after viewing it on Mexican cable. But the old monster had another tentacle in the fire as well: Since this whole "reality television" thing is such a big deal lateley, the producor of the show is trying to talk his network into a Spanish langauge version of Granfather's life at home. I forget what the name of the proposed show is but it roughley translates to "Basterd Cam"