Public confesion as therappy.
Page 5 of 7
I dogded his blows the best i coud but evereywhere I treid to block him, he hit me in an unprotected area.
He said to me things like, "YOU THOGHT I'D GIT YOU ON THE LEFT SIDE BUT DONE WHUPPED YER RIGHT INSTEAD.
SUPPRIZED, AIN'T YEH? HURTS LIKE HELL, DON'T IT?"
There was no saddistic cackling laugh as ive come to ecxpect. Just pure meanness. And i had done NOTHIN WRONG othor than stumbol onto him while he is in a bad mood. Plus i had just been crying from my long ride. Finaly when i thretoned the old bastord to call the sheriff on him for Assault and Domestic Distourbence he finaly let go.
As i ran off he said some mean comment like "GO AHEAD AN' CALL THE DANM LAW."
"THEN THE NEWSPAPER KIN WRITE ON HOW YER PORE OL' GRANPY IN A WHEELCH'AR DONE HIT YOU WITH A BIG BADASS OL' WORLD'S FAIR TEASPOON."
Her messege was long, and she was cheering me up. We have become bettor freinds in these past few weeks. She is sort of authorrotative and bossy, and it gets on my nerves but othor that that we get along well. I am glad that we are JUST freinds and not boyfreind and girlfrend.
Aneyway, toword the end of the messege, (which was VERY reppetitive about how i have to "stand up for myself"; I alredy KNOW that) -- she tells me that we shoud "get togethor" -- just as platonnic freinds, mind you -- and perhaps if anothor "kissing lesson" emerges from it mabye that woudnt be the worst thing in the world because my kissing does still need a little work: Just as a freind ONLY, of cource.
Oh, yuck. This was not good. I will have to talk to her abuot this. And perhapps be civil and not say anything that she coud interpret as hurtful or rejection, because I KNOW what it is like to be rejjected. I just haveto remember to bite my toungue. And for that mattor perhapps keep her from biting mine.
I try to answor every peice of mail. I am getting backlogged so if you ever write to me, and a few weeks go by where there is no responce, please write agian. I appollogize. I have allways felt that I shoud try to write back to those who take the time to write me. (Ecxept the spammers: YOU folks can go to hell).
Anyway he wanted to meet me so I figuored what the hell. The whole things sounds fishey to be sure. But I wrote him back and told him that i will atleast agree to talk to him. Then he told me that he will Express Mail a plane ticket to me that night.
The old geezer muttered that him and his new girlfreind were now hitting a rocky road. He said that sexauly, things are fine. (Like I HAD to hear that. Just knowing that fact alone will add eight more months to my therappy.)
The bastord confided in me that he is affraid she will break up with him.
Then I ansored, "Oh, is it because you do not bathe and smell like a rotting whale, or perhapps it is because you are trying to swallow a peice of string thru your whole body?"
Grannfather narowwed his eyes and told me that she was supportive of his quest to get in the Giuness Record book, and agreed with him that the Dream Shall Neh-VAHH Die. But he told me that he was concerned that he coud not keep up the charade of not eating meat. While it was not necessery that he abstain from meat, he tells me that he did prommise her that he does not eat any.
"HERE'S WHUT I'M WORRIED ABOUT: YOU KNOW IT'S SPRINGTIME, BOY," the bastord said to me with watery desperate eyes.
"YOU KNOW I GO THRU MY PECULIOR TIME."
In the springtime, the old basterd has an extreme bloodthirstey hankering to atack and eat small animals. He prefers birds if he can get them, i think because of the protiens which are in feathors - he eats them whole. One researcher found that vast segments of Granfather's DNA is identicol to that of alligators and at certian times of the year they too need to eat feathors.
In a pinch Granfather will go for rodents or even cats. One year when i was a kid he stayed with us in California durring March and April and a numbor of small loose pets in the area inexplicobly vanished. Nothing was ever proven, but the bastord was allways seen by witnesses to be lurking in the area. After every disapearence, later, for supper he woud have only a green salad. My brothor and I were taunted so mutch in school my parents allmost transfered us. Perhaps it is not a stretch for that neighbour of ours to think that Granfather ate her pet parrot.
The next day i got up at dawn and went in to check on Granfather but he wasnt in his bed. A powerfull stink trickoled in from the living room and thats where i found him.
"I BEEN LOOKIN OUT THIS WINDOW AT THEM CHICKENS IN THE YARD," the monster confessed to me.
"AND IM AFRAID I WON'T BE ABLE TO CONTROL MUHSELF WHEN THE FEMALE BOB BARKER IS AROUND."
The gentle warbling clucks of the poultrey in our yard drifted into the screen window, and as the sun broke on the prarie a look of evil washed ovor the old beast's eyes, and just then i coud sence that he was ready to pounce. Imediatly i jumped up and shut the window hard and locked it. Good thing i did, cause just at that moment Granfather sprang up from his wheelchair and without so much as hobbling while he ran, the bastord flung himself onto window and pressed his gasping and shuddering face agianst the safety glass with ravennous famished lust. Down below were our two fattest and prettiest hens, whose names were Miss Hawaii and Miss Missisippi. The evil ogre's scraggly rib cage heaved amd quaked with vorracious burning hunger.
"I WANTS THEM CHICKENS, BOY!" he wailed in a howl of aggony. "HELP ME. I TELLS YOU, HE'PP ME BOY, HE'PP YOUR OL' GRANPAP.
I had to pry him off with a broom handol othorwise he woud of popped the window out of its frame and crashed to the dirt below. There was drool and face grease on the glass where his face pressed.
"TO HELL WITH WHUT'S ON THE MENU," he muttered. "'YO QUEIRO' THAT THAR LITTLE CHIHUAHUA DOGGIE IN A NICE PERKY BROWN MOLEE."