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The belatad Spring 2000 Update in 3 pitiful parts: Febuary, March and April

You are on Page5 of 6Of Part3 of 3(aPRIL part)

The guy just stood there chewin on his lip and stairing at me. He probly woud of stared at me for a very long time but needless to say I got up and ran out the back door.

"Studly?" said the girl, who by this time was not gigglin no more, "Studly J. Hunk, whar the hell you think you're going?"

The back door led to the yard which was much smallor than I expected. Plus it was fenced in. I tried to climb out over the fence. I geuss I should of borrowed Granfather's orange blazer cause I ripped the one I was wearing on the frikin chain links on top. Somwhere off in the distance a dog barked. There was an awful metallic sound as the backdoor swang way open and shut at the force of bein pushed real hard by the father as he folowed me out. "Where are you going?" he barked at me.

"I am gettin the hell out of here, sir," I said and just as the words were out of my mouth he said "you bet your ASS your gettin outof here."

It was my only good blazor and now it was ruined. Plus I cut the side of my head. I was bleeding like crazy. I had to run around the block and across somone's lawn to get back to my car. Then I got in and drove off. The girl was howling, "StudLEE! StudLEE! Come on back heah!"

Then I drove all the way home. I was feelin pretty danm dejected too. When I pulled up a white Chevy was parked infront of the trailer. It was the County Clerk's car. He probly had come here to confront the beastly geezer for publicly embarrassing him in the cafe.

You woud think the man woud of learned by now to quit.

There was a time I used to feel sorry for the County Clerk, but it is time for him to admit that Granfather has beaten him, and leave the danm County. And maybe become a poisonous snake wranglor, or somthing. After all that woud be a safer line of work.

The TV was on extremely loud. Granfather's girlfriend, the deadpan little gnome faced woman who looks like a female version of Al Franken sat on the couch suckin on a Virginia Slim and concentrating hard on watching a rerun of "Star Trek: Voyager."

The reasen the TV was loud.

Granfather was sprawled on the cheap indoor outdoor carpet of our trailer living room fighting with the County Clerk. Or else I shoud say, they just finished fighting. And as usual, Granfather won, and the Countey Clerk was danm lucky to be alive. He laid there in a hogtied position with his belly on the floor, his back bent up and wildly gasping for air. The two of them strouggled wildly as Granfather treid to get this bag or something over the County Clerk's head. Oh yuck. This is disgousting. Dont read the next sentence if you want to avoid being grossed out. A blue foil packet was on the floor ripped open, and what had been inside it was now in Granfather's hands and stretched way out of propportion and completly fitted over the County Clerk's head. Both his nostrils were covored, and the old basterd was tryin hard to hook it over his chin in which case he'd surely suffoccate. Even still while vigorously atempting to committ capitol murder, the old basterd was glued to the TV screen, tryin to watch what was hapening on "Star Trek: Voyagor."

"KIN YOU B'LEEVE IT?" Granfather shreiked through a cigarete clenched in his teeth.

"YET ANOTHER EPISODE ABOUT THE DANM HOLOGRAPH DOCTOR FACING THE THREAT OF ACCIDENTALLY GITTIN' HIS ASS ERASED OFF THE COMPUTER.

"YOU'D THINK THAY'D BE SMART ENOUGH TO HAVE THE SUMBITCH BACKED UP ON FLOPPY SOMEWHAR."

I said, "Granfather, what is going on?" I looked over at the girlfreind but she didnt give me no answor other than, "You forgot your condoms," and she pointed ovor to what Granfather was atempting to fit over the County Clerk's head. Also she did remark that I was still bleeding.

"SO, YOU TRULY IS BLEEDIN' BOY," Granfather mused, while still kneeling on the back of the poor bucking and thrashing County Clerk as the old basterd contineud trying to kill him.

"SO, DO TELL, HOW'D IT HAPPEN? DID THE GAL CLAW YOU WHEN YOU GOT FRESH WITH HER?" I told him no, I got these wounds while escaiping the girl's father.

"ATTABOY! I KNOWED YOU COUD DO IT!," he crowed, and at that moment suceeded in gettin the curled latex rim of the deadley weapon completely over the County Clerk's head. Granfather was still gaping in his evil grin as I walked past him quickley and returned from the kitchen with the closest sharp thing I coud find: a ceratted edge grapefruit spoon.

I save the County Clerk's life

I swiped the spoon agianst the almost transparrent sheet of latex stretched across the County Clerk's face and it burst like a balloon. The poor man colapsed and gasped deep breaths of air in. The interior of our trailor, (especially when Granfather is close) is no place to take deep breaths cause of the stink, but when your life depends on it you might as well. Granfathor was angry i rescued the County Clerk.

"WHUT THE HAYLE YOU'D DO THAT FER?" the old basterd snapped.

I said, "To keep you out of Huntsville." Huntsville is the place they execute you with lethol injection in Texas.

"YOU SHOULD OF LET ME KEEP IT ON. HE'D OF BEEN DEAD BEFORE THE COMING ATTRACTIONS."

The County Clerk rose to his feet and stumboled toward the front door. Usually when he leaves in a huff its acompanied by some sort of murdderous threat against the old basterd. But this time he was freakin happy to leave alive.

Even thuogh it was late with all the fisticuffs there was no time to have supper. So after Star Trek: Voyager was over, Granfather's odd little girlfreind cooked for us and we all sat down and ate. I have to say it was probly the most awful meal I ever had but at least Granfather was in a good talkattive mood.

"I LIKE 'VOYAGER,' I SUPPOSE, BUT AH TRULY PREFER THE ORIGINAL SERIES.

"'SPECIALLY WHEN OL' CAPTAIN KIRK SAYS, NAME YER OWN PRICE(tm) FOR THIS HERE CAN O'WHOOP ASS I'M ABOUT TO OPEN UP ON YO' ALIEN BEE -HIND."

When the girlfreind got up for a minute Granfather whispored to me, "BOY. WHUT THE HELL IS THIS WE'RE EATIN'?" I said I did not know.

"I FEEL LIKE THE DAWG WHO COMES UPON AN UNIDENTIFIED STEAMING PILE OF SOME SUCH SETTIN' THAR ON THE GRASS WHO SNIFFS IT A LITTLE AND THEN THINKS TO HIMSELF: 'THIS HERE MIGHT BE FOOD. IF NOT, I'LL JUST PUKE IT UP LATER'."

But both me and him ate it and both survived. I said to him, "Granfather, why are you so talkative?" ahd ne said, "AH AIN'T TALKATIVE...SAY, DID I EVER TELL YOU THE STORY WHAR I FIRST MET YER GRANDMAW'S PAW?" AND THE DAWG KEPT MAKIN GAS?"

The old basterd woud just not shut up.

I coud not sleep that night.

Id been through so much in the past few days between the trip to New York, hangin out with the people at work in the bar and a dissastrous date. Have you ever felt emotionaly fragile. Well I was that night cause it all cought up with me.

The next day was Sunday and Granfather's talkative mood had not yet ended. He kept on yammering all day. The old basterd wanted to know all about my upcoming date with the young lady police officor which was that night. He certianly was very talkative lately. Which is always disguosting because he spits when he talks.

I asked him why one more time. And this time the crooked old basterd gave me a straihgt answer. He told me somthing very distourbing.

"BOY, YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHUT. BUT I THINK AH MAY BE IN LOVE."

I did not have an answor for him. I guessed I shoud of been happy for the old basterd. But insted i hate to admit I was a little jeallous.

Anothor date: This time I actualy get to go on the date

I dont know what the hell we coud of been thinking but the place where me and the cop girl planned to have a coupel of beers was closed--DUH --because it was Sunday. I sat there in the car feeling prety stupid. Soon she arived on her motorcycle. We had a laugh over the place being closed. Well like a jerk I coud not figure out what to do. So she said lets go to a restuarant.

She insisted I get on the back of her motercycle. She made a coupel of tight turns and fast accelerations to impress me and kind of a wheelie. On the turns I was so scared I almost crapped. I tried hard not to hold her too tight so she woudnt think I was coming on to her.

At the restarant we talked. She was nice, but a few years older than me (at least) plus was kind of tough and not extremly dainty. We had nothing in common. I am extremly shy and and am probly a terrible date. Well, mabye we had one thing in common. We are both afraid to eat certian foods.

"Would you call me a fat chick or a skinny chick?" she asked out of the blue. The right answor to that is ALWAYS skinny, (geez, even Granfather knows that), but she realy was skinny and all muscle too. Not that I am atracted to this sort of thing, but, Damn, she probly coud of crushed an alunimum beer can between her tiny muscular ass cheeks for Godsake.

After we ate she insisted on paying. It was houmilliating. Then we ended up at her place for cofee. You know, I have to tell you:

The whole modern dating Business Model stinks.

Here is why: The one thing that always upsets women is food. The one thing that allways upsets guys is money. So, we have these freakin dates where you get to know each othor, where guys use MONEY to buy women FOOD. Then, one of the people on the date has to say, "come to my place ALONE," (as if that's not sending a signal), so you can sit there and have COFFEE for cryin out loud so you can stay up all night (no matter where you end up spending the night) worryin about whethor your a cheapskate or if your ass is too fat.

So anyway at her place I fixed her danm computer.

Her Windows cache directories were full of crap Temp files and she was out of memory. In case your interestedIt was very hot in her apartment and she changed into these men's baggy dockers and a sleeveless khaki teeshirt. With her danm gun holster still on, over the tee. She wanted to smoke some weed with me but I said no thanks. She was armed and all, but still was nice enuogh to put her stash away. I do not smoke weed, but there's nothin more rude than someone who smokes anyway when you say NO THANKS. And it was just at this point I started thinkin, Oh God no, she probly wants to make out or somthing. Then she put some music on, this really gloomy tune that sounded sort of familor. Finally, I asked her somthing that i just had to know.

"Why did you call me? Why did you want to meet me, since I banged you in the head with Chinese food?"

She said she didnt quite know, but it was definitly my histericol crying hissy fit that did it.

"Partly cause I felt sorry for you," she said, "And partly cause, well, looking at you handcuffed and bawling and thrashing on the grass, I dunno, it kind of turned me on."

"Feets, do yo' stuff"

That is a phraise Granfather says which means, "I have to get the Hell out of here." And this is just what I was thinking. Only I coud not think of a plan how.

"What is that music your playing?" I asked.

"Oh, that's the theme to "Twin Peaks." I taped it off of BRAVO, theyre running reruns of it."

She must of looped it, cause we listened to it a danm hour.

Somhow we got on the subject of music.

She said to me sudenly, "You know, I play the guitar. And I write music." I said, "Oh realy."

She told me that she wrote this music...but she wasnt sure it was good...and then she said, "Oh well, forget it." I coud tell she was realy dying to play some for me. So the next thing I know she turns off the Twin Peaks tune (which turned out to be freakin Mozart next to what I ended up hearing), and started atacking this guitar and singing.

What a danm awful voice

She soundad like Neil Young and Bob Dylan, singing in unison, both of them freezing to death at the bottem of a well. She played for an hour and then two. She did not stop, and just went into one song aftor the other, Slow songs, fast songs and very wierd songs that went on and on.

It was the most awfull music I ever heard in my life.

I tell you what it reminded me of--I remember lookin thruogh my mom's high school yearbook from the 1970s. All her freinds there in New Jersey she grew up with, girls with long wooly hair wearin sandals and dangly feathor earrings wrote all these sad, syrupy and very serious poems and inscriptions about Death and War and Dying and Dying Inside (which is diferent from regular Dying) and Pollution and More Death. Oh my God she woud not stop singing.

Then I started thinkin about how it was now two oclock in the morning, and I was probly 10 or 15 miles from my car, which, if I ran out of the door right now, I woud never be able to find. Plus my car was at least 40 miles from my house. I started to get a little scaired of this psycho biker chick. I was just never going to get the hell out of here. She just woud NOT STOP SINGING it just woud NOT END. I had to go to work the next day Plus I had to piss Oh God i had to piss so freakin bad IF ONLY IT WOUD END...