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April 1998 Update

Page 7 of 8

People think i am makking it up or exaggoratting how bad Granfather's farts are. Okay, somtimes I enbellish the facts, but never about his mutant intestinol anomalies. I swear we were knocked out by the blast for a solid 20 minuts.

As soon as the earthwaving tremors stopped, the prairie stopped shaking, the enamol paint flakes from the reffrigerator crisped off and fluttored to the floor like snow, and all of us recovored from the trauma of having sulfuric plutonnium gas in our lungs, I sudenly remembered that I reserved a room for Uncle Wiliam in the motel in town becuase he cannot stay in our place due to how bad Granfather smells. Junior volunteared to drive him to the motel.

Junior is not too smart

As Zeke carried William in his arms, Juniur actualy asked Zeke why he walked with his head crooked to the side. Poor Junoir has very poor depth persception and he coud not even percieve that Zeke was too tall to stand up to his full hieght in the trailor. But before Zeke coud answor, Granfather interjected some mean remark about how many years ago, Uncle Zeke, being jilted by a lover, had treid to hang himself and how this permonently crooked his neck.

"AN' NOT ONLY THAT, JUNIOR, THE WOMAN WERENT EVEN PURTY," said the old bastord. "HAD A DANM FACE LIKE ONE O'THEM BUDWEISER HORSES."

Of cuorse none of this was true. At least Ive had a few dissastruos blind dates in my life, and even one failed unconsummated two week long marraige. Poor Uncle Zeke I dont think evor even had a girlfreind.

Granfather's cruel remark and even worse fart got the ball rolling toword the regulor brawling family strife and discord to which I have becomme accustomed. First, some fights about politics were followed by hollering and screamming about the Designatted Hitter Rule, (Granfather is a Nationol League baseball fan while his brothors are American Leauge fans).

This Changes Evereything(TM)

Finaly they started fightin about cars. Granfather is a diehard Chryslor man while his brothors are Genoral Moters to the bone. The two East Coast brothors began heaping insults on the old bastord's car, a 1970 Dogde Dart Swinger which they said was no more good than for sawing the top off and filling with topsoil to make a giant planter, or else for hauling hay and manure to the barns. Granfather retorted by callin Zeke "You Big Galoot Buick-Oldsmobbile Wide-Track-North-Star Slant-Six Big-Block-Duel-Quad-Sonoffobbich-Basterd!"

My dad drives only Fords as to avoid fights with these guys. In any case Granfather's fighting words caused Uncol Zeke's anger to instantley boil over. Not a brihgt man to begin with, and certianly not thinking, Zeke dropped poor frail Wiliam right on his danm head and then lunged to choke Granfather. The old bastord responded by grabbin the Wild Turkey bottol, breakin it across the owl of his own head, and springing out of the wheelchair, jagged glass first and plunged foword rihgt toword Zeke's face. In no time there was a cloud of hair, blood, Desenex powdor, fleas, (from Granfather), ice, snot, and cigar ash not to mention flying furnitture and two dishes that were on the cofee table filled with those special pretty candies which are set out just for company.

I had had enuogh of this: I imediatly called the Sheriff.

The Sheriff was extreamely upset about being called but I explained that they were gonna kill each othor if he didnt come right now. By the time he arived, Junior was able to keep Uncle Zeke at bay with the shotgun. Meanwhile i had restrained Granfather with the Granpa's Bad Boy apparattus which many of my longtime readors will recongnize from past updates. Granpa's Bad Boy is a custom-made, veterinarrian-designed, and animal-freindly contraption of recalitrent creature constraint, consisting of a very long alumnimum swimming pool skim net, 2-liter pop bottols and parachute twine which tightens arround the beastly geezer's head and neck. The instrument, when used proporly, is demeaning but humaine.

Imagine if you will the Hannibol Leckter face mask from Silence of the Lambs, which instead of it being your run-of-the-mill barbarrous cannibol, you cant even place the mask on him exept by using the proverbiol ten foot pole. That's Granfather for you.

The sherriff calms them down.

The old bastord savagely growled from within the facial jaw restraint while the sherrif kept askin "What the hell is goin on here." I started cryin and was too upset to talk. Also Junior began cryin too. Uncle William, who like Granfather (but unlike Zeke) is resonably inteligent, began to explain it all, in faint wheezes that you coud hardley hear. At the part when he got up to Granfather's horroble gas, the old bastord interjected, and this time he started in with his fake crying and weeping and false blubbering and wailing as to get sympathey for his bad constippation.

"I JEST CAIN'T MAKE, SHERRIF, I TELLS YUH I JEST CAIN'T FLOAT MUH LOAF NO MATTER WHUT! AW, BOO, HOO HOO."

Granfather and his brothor Zeke each got issued a summons, the type that reqiures a Court Apearance. Then the Sherriff told them that if there was one more call, that they'd both be spending the night in the pokey.

A not-so-vailed threat

The sheriff also said, while looking Granfather directley into his alligator-like lizerd eyes which were now dripping with fake crocodile tears, (and in front of evereyone in the room too), that ocasionally those under arrest left alone in a cell are mysterriously found dead the next morning hangin from there undorwear elastic around there neck which is tied to the top bar of the cell -- and that the old bastord ought to WATCH IT.

I know the Sheriff didnt mean this threat literaly, but he had to say somthing by apealing to the old bastord's imaturity to make him behaive. Granfather just staired back at him with a grumpey frown in silent indignation.

As the over-worked, ovor-stressed lawman headed toword the door to leave, Uncle Zeke said, "Say sherriff. Muh brother don't wear no underwears, only them adult diapers: Here, take muh belt." The Sherif pretended not to hear.

Junior finaly left to take Uncle Will to his motel. Since the trailer was a danm wreck, me, Granfather and Zeke woud have to go out for supper. Oddley, a few minutes later, as often hapenns, Granfather and Uncle Zeke were sudenly tolerent of one another. While they were standing at the kitchon sink washin the blood and snot off there faces I heard the two men having a stiff yet almost cordial convorsation with one another.

First Granfather said:

"SEE HOW I WUZ FAKE BAWLIN' IN THERE? THE OTHER NIGHT, THE BOY WERE WEEPIN' JUST THE SAME WATCHIN' A DANM WHOOPY GOLDBERG FILM ON TV."

And then Uncle Zeke said:

Whoopie Goldburg, Oh, I likes her, Yesiree. Them Jews done right good fer themselfs in Hollywood, yup.

As Uncle Zeke lumbered off to the bathroom to make yet anothor whiz, I noticed Granfather silentley sneak into the living room. He took down his belloved framed photo from the wall, the one of him with the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, both of there autographs, and also that snapped off pot metol Brittish royal crown atachment. Both Uncle Zeke and Uncle Wiliam had been eyeing the thing desirously evor since they arrived.

The old bastord hissed at me in an evil snakelike whispor, "LISSEN UP, BOY: GO IN MUH ROOM AND GIT MUH ARMY DOGTAGS WHILE I POP THIS HERE CROWN OUT!"

When I came back with the dog tags, Granfather had alredy replaced the crown with a can openor and hung the photo back on the wall. He explained to me that his greedy brothors had a mind to steal the crown from him, and for safe keeping he woud insteadd hide the thing arround his neck, concealed in the black mossy fetid wooly thatch of his rancid chest hairs. There was a small hole at the bottom of the busted off stem of the crown, and so he coud loop it onto his dogtags.

By the way...

Bythe way, Granfather doesent have normal dogtags. There is not even a seriol number on it. This is how the old bastord's tags are stamped:

U.S. ARMED FORCES !!! WARNING !!!

SUBJECT NOT HUMAN

Once inside the restuarant, Granfather once again tryed to go to the bathroom. But he coud not. The old coot insisted he try "by himself", (I usualy have to "help" him as you know.) A few minnutes later he returned to the table all dejected.

"NOTHIN'," he grumped while slumpin back into his chair.

"NOT EVEN A DANM RAISINNETTE. AND NO GAS, NEITHOR," he moaned.

I did notice that he might of had somthin in his mouth becuase his voice was a little muffoled, but wondored if this was just my immagination.