Walter Miller's Homepage

Ammazing but true: A website THIS BAD, and withuot even a penny of venture capitol.

May 1998 Updaite

Page 2 of 7

Like an outfeilder, and perhaps a garbage truck, Granfather's collects more than "flies"

Granfather and his new girlfreind, The Female James Carvill are also at that new stage in the rellationship where they call eachother disgustingley sweet names like "Sugar Nipples", where they make gross reppulsive syrupy kissing noises to eachother on the phone, and where they also buy one anothor sickeningly cute stuffed bean-bag toy animals. Well, the purchase of one of these small plush toys started the proccess to change Granfather's life.

One day last week i was looking at him in the othor room while he clutched the little toy gift. He had a very rare look on his face and was concentratting hard. He is watching one of those cable merchansize channels.

The bastord begins to shake slightley, and then this creschendoes into a low, sustained palsy. Then as his face darkened from his normol hot-dog orange color to a deeper shade, that of dryed rancid Velveeta, he gets more violentley quivery, and shaking all over. The whole trailor shook and rattled. All of a suddon, while still staring at the TV, Granfather starts shreiking like a danm animal. I thohgt he was dying or somthing. It was the most hideuous shrill bellowing noise you want to hear. I run inside and the old sonoffobich starts smackin me me with his hand.

"GIT MUH BROKER ON THE PHONE!" he screammed out at the top of his lungs with a cigarete clenched tight in his teeth,

"GRAMPY'S SELLIN OUT!"

I said to him, "What the HELL are you talkin abbout." Well, i git hit AGIAN, and then he screamed some more.

"I'M SELLIN ALL THEM HIGH-TECH STOCKS AND PLOWIN' ALL MUH CASH INTO THEM LITTLE STUFFED BEANY-BAG TOYS!"

I said, Granfather, please think first beffore you do that. I cannot tell you the look of vituperous hatred he shot my way. In a low threattening voice he muttered out a string of murderrous threats to me if i did not get the broker on the phone by the time he counted to "ONE!"

He tryes to intimmiddate me

Among some of his creul phisical threatts, (which no longor frighten or reppulse me any more), was "a Krazy Glue enema," anothor threat was to suck my brain out thru my nose with the "air compressor out in the shed, and a sody-pop straw," and yet annothor, (delivored in a slow, diabolicaly evil Scottish accent), was to plunge a pruning hook down my throaght, hook it to the bottom of my stomoch, and then rip it out inside-out with all my giblets attached so that I looked like Carmen Miranda in that old movie dressed like the Chiqiuta Banana lady wearring that hat with all the fruit on top of her head ecxept insted of friut it will be all of my organs like my lungs, and livor and kidneys all arranged like a pretty Pick-Me-Up Bouquet, and so the next time i walked down the street peoplle woundnt be able to help but exclaim, (presumabley in the same Scottish accent), "AYE! LOOK WHO COMETH 'CROSS THE MOOR! 'TIS 'THE WALKING HAGGIS-HEADED BOY'!"

Granfather can do allot of voices and acents. Today it is the Scottish one.

I try to get him to change his mind

But why woud he change his mind when an army of nurses and sceintists, plus his whole family, as well as varrious court orders cannot get him to change his diapor? It is the nature of the bastord. A basterd who is uniquely unnatural in Nature.

I am not an expert

I am not an expurt in antiqeus and colectibles, but I begged the bristly beast NOT to blow all his money on those stuffed animal bean-bag toys. I just dont have a good feeling abbout it.

In case you dont know, there is a craze for them now, which started ammong little kids, but now their parents are involved. Most of the little toys cost like, $5 or $6 bucks but some of them are $20, or even $50 or $100, becuase they are so-called "limmited editions" which are discontineud after only a few of them are made.

There is a history to his stupiditty

I am ashammed to say this but Granfather lost $88,000 by speculating in pogs (also known as milk caps) in the earley 1990s. After THAT craze collapsed in '94 all those pogs were worth nothing. Just imagine how many pogs you coud get for $10 at that time, and now immagine how many Granfather has aftor spending what he did.

These extremmly out-of-fashion small cardboard disks are curently filling up two whole barns, plus with no windows and a leakey roof they are all ruinned and rancid.

Do you have aney idea how much money $88000 is? It is not like we are rich or anything. To raise the money, Granfather cashed in some bonds, borowwed money, sold stocks and even ripped off my dad and Uncles to get ahold of cash for his mad Pog-mania.

The man is a danm Petry dish for stupid ideas. Come to think of it, considoring his bacteria-freindly quallities, he is a Petry dish in any sence of the word.

The thing that pisses me off most, is that this money was suposed to be set aside to take care of the sonoffobich in his old age. Instead, I now have to do it.

The worst part

The worrst part is that Granfather recently got ahold of a few of those stuffed Beany toy Price Guides. The danm giudes list the estimatted price of certain stuffed animals in the year 2007. How the hell can you figuore out what somthing is goingto cost in the year 2007. But try tellin that to Granfather. This is man who lost all my Dad's college money on things called Pet Rocks and Mood Rings in the 1970s when the market for them colapsed soon after.

"LOOKY HERE BOY," Granfather said to me, wagging and mashing the danm guide in my face while I was actualy tryin to go to bathroom. (Yes, he busted in on me).

"THIS HERE BUTT-UGLY KITTY CAT COST JUST $150.00...

...BUT'LL THE PRICE GUIDE SAYS IT'LL BE NIGH CLOSE TO TWO-GRAND BY THE YEAR OUGHT-SEVEN!" he hollared.

I did not like what was going on. I did not like it one bit.

Suposedly they have 'beans' in the center.

Aome of these cute animols are stuffed with these synthettic pellets which are suposed to be beans. If Granfather makes a bad fart aneywhere near one, the pelletts exploade one after the othor like popcorn and youd better get the hell out of the room.

Anothor one of the old coot's lies

The other night, me, Granfather and Uncle Zeke were watching the NBC special "Witness To The Mob: The Sammey 'The Bull' Gravano Story". Granfather's new evil scary love interrest had taken a road trip to Tunica with some of her girlfreinds to gamble for the weekend, so it was just us three men togethor for an awkword, unconfortably dysfunctionol evening of generational male bonding.

Granfather loves Mafia movies and it is a real pain in the ass to watch any when he is in the room, cause he never stops talking. Ever since I was a kid I remmember Granfather bragging that back in the 1960s he had 'mob ties' by spending a few weeks workin for "one of the famous Newyork families" as an extortion racketeer. Why the New York Mob woud need the services of a foul-smelling illitterate backwoods yokel like him is beyond me.

While he launched into his regulor boast all during the show, Uncle Zeke cut in by saying that the only work Granfather ever did for extortionists was with small time swindlers, who used to present untouched photograpghs of the old basterd to frightenned shopkeepers, tellin them, "This is what will happan to your face if you dont PAY UP", and not only that but the onley "famous family" to reqeust Granfather's services was Ringling Brothers concerning posibble employment oportunities as a danm non-human side show atraction.