‘Puter just knows this is one of Czar’s practical jokes.
‘Puter goes in for his physical today. ‘Puter promised Mrs. ‘Puter he’d get one this year, a year in which ‘Puter’s age ends in “0.” ‘Puter’s got about two weeks left at this age, so he figured he’d better pony up, or the missus would beat him silly. Again.
The PA tells ‘Puter he now officially has high blood pressure (150/95). None of this is a surprise to ‘Puter, as he’s had borderline (140/90) blood pressure for years, despite the fact that he’s only slightly overweight, bikes 60-90 minutes daily and generally eats well. ‘Puter’s grandfather died of a heart attack before he was 50 and was skinny as a rail. The PA prescribes a low-dose diuretic (12.5 mg HCTZ) to counteract ‘Puter’s genetics (and high stress, low activity job). ‘Puter dutifully goes and fill the scrip, immediately taking the prescribed dose.
As ‘Puter’s eating lunch and browsing through the legal disclaimers those blood-sucking ambulance chasers force the pharmacy to shove in the package with the drugs, ‘Puter notes the following language: “Do not take if you are allergic to sulfa drugs.”
“Hey,” ‘Puter thinks to himself, “you’re allergic to sulfa drugs.”
‘Puter immediately dialed up the doctor’s office and the lovely receptionist says “Oh, no!” ‘Puter reassures the receptionist (odd, because ‘Puter was the one calling for reassurance), telling her everything seems to be going fine for now. ‘Puter’s still breathing and upright, with no obvious signs of allergic reaction. She says someone will call ‘Puter back.
And half an hour later, here ‘Puter waits.
‘Puter will get you for this, Czar. Of that, you can rest assured. And, somehow, somewhere, ‘Puter bets Dr. J. had a hand in this.
Always right, unless he isn’t, the infallible Ghettoputer F. X. Gormogons claims to be an in-law of the Volgi, although no one really believes this.
’Puter carefully follows economic and financial trends, legal affairs, and serves as the Gormogons’ financial and legal advisor. He successfully defended us against a lawsuit from a liquor distributor worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid deliveries of bootleg shandies.
The Geep has an IQ so high it is untestable and attempts to measure it have resulted in dangerously unstable results as well as injuries to researchers. Coincidentally, he publishes intelligence tests as a side gig.
His sarcasm is so highly developed it borders on the psychic, and he is often able to insult a person even before meeting them. ’Puter enjoys hunting small game with 000 slugs and punt guns, correcting homilies in real time at Mass, and undermining unions. ’Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where he bursts into people’s tents and screams. As you might expect, he has been shot several times but remains completely undeterred.
He assures us that his obsessive fawning over news stories involving women teachers sleeping with young students is not Freudian in any way, although he admits something similar once happened to him. Uniquely, ’Puter is unable to speak, read, or write Russian, but he is able to sing it fluently.
Geep joined the order in the mid-1980s. He arrived at the Castle door with dozens of steamer trunks and an inarticulate hissing creature of astonishingly low intelligence he calls “Sleestak.” Ghettoputer appears to make his wishes known to Sleestak, although no one is sure whether this is the result of complex sign language, expert body posture reading, or simply beating Sleestak with a rubber mallet.
‘Puter suggests the Czar suck it.