Walter Miller's Homepage

Not avialable on 8-Track tape.

Late Febuary 98 Update

Page 4 of 7

The next thing you know her danm knee was on my lap and she grabbed my shouldors. She is sort of a strong, bulkey girl. It remminded my of the only time I ever treid wrestling in highschool. I got my ass thrown off the mat and hourled across the gymnasiuim floor by a kid half my size as the entire girls volleyboll team who was on the othor side of the gym practicing watched in delihgt while one entire half the danm school was sittin on the bleachers and errupted in laughing howls. Ecxept instead of flying 100 feet on the seat of my flannol shorts across a sea of waxed parqeut floor, I was now unmovably pinned. I wanted to yell somthin like 'I HAVE MONO!' but i was too late as the big Brisk Steinbrenner face closed in for inpact.

I figured to myself how bad coud this be. Mabye i needed practice kissing but how can you practice when you cant breathe because this is what was hapenning with her giant sweatey cheeks sqaushing my nose flat shut. Then she was breathin real heavey from her nose, and wet vapor was gettin in my eye. You know what? Kissing is real gross to begin with but this was danm disguosting. I treid to keep my teeth cletched shut as to keep out any interloping fleshey probes. I didnot want one of THOSE kisses: you know what I am talkin about. Meanwhile i was tryin to find the doorlatch to open the door, as if to stage a small acident whereby i woud fall out of the car onto the pavement, and then we coud both have a little laugh about it. But i was not familor with the doorlocks on Juniors car. I began to hope that the sherrif on patrol woud come by with his big ass flashlihgt and catch us in the No Tresspassing zone. Sudenly she stopped and said to me in this husky voice that she had to leave the car for a minute and DONT YOU MOVE!

My formor babbysitter turns out to be somwhat of a pig

The car door shut. It was an extremly dark and quiet night and I coud not imediatly tell where she was. I turn around to look out of the back of the car and I see some movement. I only see shadows, but even still I can tell that she is standing perhapps 15 feet behind the car, facing the rear of the car in a softball pitcher's crouch, and I see that she is throwing somthing ahead of her. She was wearring one of these rust colored Rosie O'Donnol pant suits, and as her arm returns to her side, I realize that she has whipped off the trousors of the pantsuit and tossed them onto the back of the car where the steel clasp button of the fly makes a Ping! onto the rear window. Then, just as i hear a splashy wooshing noise, on instinct i press the brake pedol and there behind me I see very clearly in the sideveiw mirror my date in the ilumminated red glow of the tail lights smack in the centor of the parking lot with her hands on her knees and legs spread apart squatted down and leaning fowward showing only the top of her head, peeing. Sudenly she looks up at me and bites her lip in a grimace to force out the last drops with the words beneath her glowing scarlet face also lit up to read in the color of brakelight crimson, "OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR"

A minut later Cathy is back in the car fully dressed, breathin heavilly and saying to me "When you gotta go, you gotta go," and also, "Now, where WERE we?" and finaly, "THIS time when i kiss you young Mister Miller, , i want you to LOOSEN UP."

The next thing I knew the incursion on my unwilling inocence resumed. I was sqiurming, yes, but not in a way as to make it like I was rejecting her. I know how horroble it is to be rejected. I felt as if I was an old person in a Dutch nursing home being legally euthannized agianst his will upon the wishes of his family by a large, flesh colored naugahyde pillow. Just when i thuoght things coudnt get worse they did.

Six Degrees of that Thing in that Kevin Bacon movie

It was more than a tounge. It was worse than a tounge. It wasnt a tuonge at all. It was that thing in the film Tremors with Kevin Bacen and Reba MacEntyre where the giant man eating subterraneon worm monstor grabbed at a pickup truck, and one of his ten foot long tounge-like tentacols with the big sucker on the end got wrapped arround the axle, and then the guy drove off with it stuck on and dragging in the dirt. THAT was the thing atacking me. Have you evor heard the phrase tonsil hockey. I swear i thoght i was gonna lose my friggin back molors. I cannot tell youhow long it went on. Boy was i glad when it was ovor.

After i dropped her off and arrived back home it was 3 AM. Granfather had alredy been arrested, booked, and releaced on his own unscrupulous and immoral recognosence from his bad Sinbad-rellated bad sins. In case you dont remember from my last update why the bastord was arested, it was due to his screaming at the TV out of frustrattion because Gennifer Flowors was also on the Bill Mahr show, and Sinbad kept yammering on and never let her talk but just a few times.

The nieghbors with the parrots had called the cops

Granfathers angrey outbursts were what made him do it. I later found out that one of the rare expennsive birds, (which is called an eclectus), has added anothor unfortunate Granfather-rellated scream to his routine--it is the repeated maniacal shout of the famous 1980s interoggotive phrase:

"WHUTCHU TALKIN 'BOUT, WILLIS?"

I also later found out that the bastord coudnt make bail, but even still the sheriff was glad to drive him home rathor than to keep him in the county jail ovornihgt.

When I walked inside the trailer, Grampy was on the speakerphone hollering and screaming at Dad, who had come back from his bisiness trip.

Dad was pissed and furrious

Dad had found out that Granfather had betrayed his trust by cavaleierly telling me abbout the circomstances surounding the conception of my brothor in an 8-cylinder Dart back in the devil-may-care heydays of the Ford Adminnistration. I didnt get all of the convorsatoin, but what i did pick up from it was that Granfather was yelling at him just as if Dad had just come home like he did 20 odd years ago and told his parents he had to get marreid because he got a girl pregnent.

"YOU IRRESPONSIBLE BOY!", Granfather screamed in the phone.
"A nice roll model YOU were!", Dad shouted back.
"HOW COUD YOU OF BEEN SO DUMB?", yelled Granfather.
"Mabye because YOU took away my "Our Bodies, Ourselves"! Dad said.

Granfather slammed the phone down, and stared at me, his face white with rage, a badly kinked lasso of red dental floss in peices curled about the formica table. His face was also uttorly covered and crusted over with hardboil egg crumbs, and eggshell schards. This happenns every time Cool Hand Luke is on latenight cable. The bastord spat, and a tiny curl of floss flew out of his moulth in the shape of a hairball a cat hacks up, and it silently bounced on the table like a small tumbleweed.

"DANM FLOSS AIN'T WORKIN," he muttored. "MUH GOLDANG STOMACH ACIDS ARE DONE ROTTIN' THE DAGNAB STRING BEFORE IT IT EVEN GITS DOWN TO MUH CONSARN DOADONUM."

"Well where is the stove bolt?" I asked him.

The geezer's gaze narrowwed, his lips glistenned and thinned, and his voice rose slightley in volume.

"COME SUN-UP, YOUR PUTTIN' ON THEM RUBBER CATFISH HIP BOOTS, GITTIN' THAT THAR SPAGHETTI STRAINER IN YER HANDS AND VISITING IN OUR CESSPOOL OUT BACK TO FIND OUT EXACTLY WHERE. YOU HEAR ME BOY?"

I respectfulley decline to write abbout the first half of the next day. But i will tell you what hapenned in the afternoon.

Granfather's blind date shows up

This is the one mentionned earlier in this update with whom hed engaged in peurile behhavior with in a chatroom over Ammerica Online. (Family-freindly online service my ass).

Do you remmember in my last update how i described Granfather's twisted and stupid beliefs on how people are born? That there are different color and gendor versions of all peoplle, who are all borned at the same time in a giant celestial muffin tray? Well, I have long scoffed at this theology, but after seeing this woman, i was ready to become a reppentant believor.

That is becuase standing there before me was the female Bob Barker.

Caucasian, emaciated, and deffinitly the estrogen-enhanced version of the tanned, spare elderley and avuncular long time gameshow host. (if not barely, because the face and body were identicol).

She had knocked on the front door and i answored it to show her in. Granfather was in my room, adding a few entries to his fart chart, and so i went in to get him. I whispered to him, "Granfather, its the female Bob Barker!"

"I KNOWS IT, BOY," the bastord whispored back. "I SEEN HER DRIVE UP FROM THE WINDOW. AIN'T IT WEIRD?"

Granfather contineud on in a quavorring, faint voice, "AND I TELL YOU WHUT: IF SHE FINDS OUT ABOUT MY DISMAL ANIMAL RIGHTS RECORD, AND A CARVING KNIFE IS ANNYWHERE NEARBY, WELL, THEN I WILL SOON BE THE "FEMALE GRANPY" IF YOU GIT MY DRIFT."

He wheeled out and down the hall. Just then the phone in my room rang, and as i leaned to pick it up, I heard the conniving old letch in the living room trilling out to his date the familair words of his own advice, "WHY, LAND SAKES! AIN'T YOU A REAL PURTY LOOKIN' GAL!"