Walter Miller's Homepage

I am a Granfather surviver

Early Decembar 1997\Post Thansgkiving Update

Page 3 of 6

A message was on the machene from my stepmothor in California. I called back and she asked me a favor: Could I please call my brothor and sisterinlaw and convince them to come to Texas for Thansgiving.

So I did call my brothor.

He said HELL NO. It seems Uncle Zeke stayed at his house when he was just visitting L.A., and for the whole visit he woudnt shut up with his vituperous hatred of Granfather; My brothor said he didnt want his little 2 yearold son unesessarily exposed to our family.

I volutear to watch him

But I said I woud watch him the whole time they were here and keep him AWAY from Granfather because i love my little nephow so much. Then my brothor also said he didnt want his kid to grow up all messed up like ME.

Boy that realy hurt my feelings. I was planning to start crying when i got off the phone but insted I yelled at him and said he was VERY mean and creid on the phone and we got in a big argoument.

I hate the Holidays

He told me to stop bein a crybabby and grow up for Gods sake then slammed down the phone. The truth of the mattor is, none of this family hatred or dysfunction or arguing or strife woud even be an issue if it wasnt for GRANFATHER. Everey fammily conflict and discord from the begining can be traiced to the selfich mean abussive crooked Old Bastord.

Then i went outside agian to give medocine to our two pet goats, Pansy II and Vice President of Brand Development Halla Mackowska. They have not ben feeling too good for the past week and a few days prior we had the livestock doctor come by and give them medocine. He said that one of the goats (which i will not name) was sufforring from Seperation Anxeity from leavin its last ownor and both had been eating some wierd stuff.

I had asked the vet if he woud briefly look at Granfather's teeth while he was here (i.e, an unexplained mossy growth) or atleast give him this year's heartworm or parvo shot and he said NOT ON YOUR DANM LIFE. Then he made me pay him in cash before he left and i did not get a receitpt.

Locol merchents do not like to do business with our family.

Uncle Zeke came back from brekfast in town, but didnt come in the house. He stayed outside fussing with his colectibles in his car trunk. The goats dont like the medicine, and i was chasing one of them aruond the trailer when i heard my uncle start cursing and Granfather start luaghing from inside. The Montel show just ended and the bastord had trundled himself into the bathroom agian, standing up once more with his frightful face at the small window. He was cackling his ass off cause he had taken the Purple Turben that belonged to my Uncle, (his esteeamed headdress from the Secret Colector's Society) out of the sink where it was soaking in Woollite and unfourled it out the window and the goat had part of it in its moulth. But the goat was choking cause the turben was made of polyestor and not cotten. At the same time the othor poor animal yakked up a piece of papper, somthing on it that read:

`GOOD AT CONGRESS STREET DEPOT EXPIRES MIDNIGHT MAY 31, 1934`

Zeke started screamin cause it was aparrant that the reason the goats were sick was that GRANFATHER was feeding them HIS colectibles out of jeallocy--in this case his vintege bus transfer trove of the New Deal era.

He hollered up to his halfbrother a disparraging comment about Granfather's patternal parentage, (which diffored in both species and phylum from his own.) Granps screammed and howled obsceinities back, and spit more venommous poison tobacco jiuce at him with his proficient aim.

The greasy looking brownish yellow fluid arc sloshed in the air from Granfather's teeth and hourtled towward us in a broad, spreading loop. I was able to duck but Uncle Zeke and his precoius bannana sticker colection took a full splashing volley. Like i said the bastord has incredoble expert aim.

I ran inside the house and took from the closet this homemade, eldorly savage homecare imploment called "Granpy's Little Helper." We have othor tools at home, such as the Granpa's Bad Boy contraption but I'd never used this new one before. It consists of a vacuume cleanor tube with a bare electricol cord looped thruogh. I am suposed to loop it arround his skinny evil neck, then tighton it with this ratchet crank on the handle. If the beast still fights me, i am alowed to plug in the cord.

The Bio-Phenomnena cryptozoologists from the University who regulorly examine Grampy said the electricol charge might stun him but wont harm him.

So much for "incredoble expert aim"

I flung open the bathroom door and dropped the tool with a clattor and began reeling from the stentch. There in the centor of the floor was this perfetcly square thing the size of two housebricks that the only way i coud describbe how it looked was that once as a little kid i went with my mom to Sanfrancisco to this place where they make choclate. And saw this speciel kind of chocollate thats allmost black in color and has no sugor in it and it comes in large sqaure bricks. Exatly like THAT.

"LIKE THEM SHARP EDGES?" Granfather snickored at me, his spindly knobbey legs quavoring from suporting his weight at the window, which he still clutched with his hourny talons.

"ANY AMATEUR KIN DROP A LOAD BUT IT TAKES YEARS O'CONTROL TO GIT THEM PERFECT EDGES."

The insults are hourled

Please forgive me for glossing ovor in detail the next hour i spent cleaning up the danm mess. Later, during lunch Granfather kept insulting his brothor by still reading those wiseass T-shirt slogons out of the Johnson Smith Catalog. Evorytime my uncle said somthing, Granfather woud retort by throwin anothor zinger at him like:

"IN DOG YEARS
YOU'RE DEAD"

Meanwhile I had gave Uncle Zeke a few catalogs like the Harriet Carter one and othors which also had T-shirts and cofee mugs for sale featouring snappy sayings. He held it under the table on his lap but had a hard time knowin what was a snappey insult and what was not. One of the few times he got in egdewise he said: "MY KARMA JUST RAN OVER YOUR DOGMA," reading it very stilted out of the cattolog. No one can match Granfather in an insult match, myeself includded.

Uncle Zeke never married but sevoral decades back when he still lived in Texas there was a dumpy local widow he was sweet on but was too shy to evor ask her out so nothin evor came of it. Granfathor recounted the story in a loud mocking tone.

He also leaves to have Lunch in town too

My Uncle was so pissed he bolted up from the table an anounced he woud drive back to the diner in town for lunch. Granps leapt from his wheelchiar to attack him. He scampered off after Zeke who reeled and tumbled as he tried to escape the monstor scramboling toward him. It looked and sounded exaclty like the scene in Gorrillas In The Mist when Sigorney Weavor meets the lowland gorilla colony for the first time and was gettin chased by that extremly pissed silverback ape and she slipped in gorilla crap while tryin to run away down the hill. Just like that. (Except picture allot more gorrilla crap).

Granfather sprang ahead of him and blocked the doorway by gripping a hairey chimplike paw on each side of it. He growled like an animol. Zeke said, "Git out the way, little brothor."

Then Granfather bit his lip and shut one eye and tremboled and shuddered all over. The vains were poppin on his neck and wrists and forhead. I am not ashammed to say i got the hell out of there and ran to my room to unplug my powerstrip and then i went to the fusebox and shut all the circuts. Somthin BAD was coming. He was gettin ready to fource out an incredoble fart. I hollered to my Uncle, "On your knees, eyes closed, head between your legs and nose pinched shut!" just like the Civil Defense guy who came to vissit our familly last year told us but he didnt hear me.

At the Eppicenter at Gruond Zero

Do you know those very long contineual farts that last abbout 15 seconds long which creschendoe louder and softer all thruout and usualy happen only when you happen to be running, walking briskley, or perhapps jaunting down a flight of stairs? Well Granfather can do them when he is in one spot.

Got-der-damner-dung

"SOME O'MUH BEST WORK IS WHUT I LIKE TO CALL MUH ROSSINI FARTS," mused the beast, during the resoundingly poworful 15 second fortissimo delivory, "SOME HAVE THE SYMETRY OF BACH, OR THE MAJESTEY O' THE GREAT RUSSIAN COMPOSORS...

"THIS HERE I NOW PROUDLEY PRESENT IN HONOR OF MY MOST HATED VISITING BROTHER IS THE THUNDEROUS FURY O' THE GREAT REEKARD WAGNER."

...which of course Granfather pronnounces "VOG-ner". If theres one thing i cant stand, it's the old bastord's affected genteel classicol music radio stattion anouncer voice.

As the noxiouss gas filled the trailor the small cerramic tiles on the sink wall buckled and the little hay broomstik of the Lucky Kitchon Witch(R) on the wall bourst into flame and I heard a terribble popping noise from inside the reffrigorator which was louder than popcorn and mabye even firecrackors and a pool of clear yellow oil seeped on the floor. It was the Vitamin E capsoules inside the frigde which exploaded.

"NOW YOU KIN GO" Granfather said finaly unblockking the way so Uncle Zeke coud pass.