Assisted Living: A Novel (16 page)

Grandpa was dreaming up some new devilishness … the corners of his mouth were twitching …

—I’ll admit that my stomach is starting to rumble … I’d really like one of your kidneys about now …

He got out a Hubertus deerwhistle. It could make both a deer’s distress and an old goat’s mating calls. Grandpa pipped and squeaked first one, then the other … Bempa got confused and sat up … Garn howled outside of Gnipahall … Grandpa decked Bempa one and pulled off his leather belt …

—Before I take a kidney, I want you to blow me! That way we won’t wear out your shithole! he said considerately.

He put a Blessed Host on Bempa’s dry tongue and pushed in his cock … it wasn’t easy … Bempa didn’t have any spit … But Grandpa didn’t give up … the cock goes in, morality goes out … life’s one giant swing … the fun lies in jumping off right when you know you’re gonna fall … Bempa had come to the end of his long journey … he gaped wide … barfed when Grandpa’s cock rammed the back of his throat … weak yellow bile … Grandpa raged like he had rabies … punched and kicked … lashed out with his belt … blinded one eye with the clasp … He hooted and hollared … bent over and bit the carotid artery … Bempa crawled toward the kitchen … blood splattered across the cheap knick-knacks … a strong stream, dark and lively … Grandpa drank from the source … Bempa had served his purpose … Grandpapulled up Bempas shirt … sliced him with a glass shard … carved out the kidney … gobbled and slurped it down … took a drink … started to relax …

—Now you can eat, he declared, and I obeyed …

Luckily, that only meant that I was supposed to go down on Grandpa … otherwise I would’ve puked … I used an Old Norse sucking technique … Bempas bile tasted like French mustard … murder made Grandpa blasphemously horny … another person’s fear of death is the strongest aphrodisiac around … when Grandpa came, he shrieked curses at the Yankees and the Russians … his sperm tasted like mincemeat … then he gave me a quick jack … that was nice of him … Piglet and Pooh were on TV … my cum shot a few meters out … ran down the TV screen … Grandpa sobbed … he felt bad for Eeyore … Grandpa’s strongest point is his humor … his weakest is emotional instability … He buried his face between the sofacushions and waaaaahhhhh’d … I buttoned my fly, climbed up on the sofa, and put my arms around my Grandpa … he calmed down a little, blew his nose on a cushion, took a swig of Renat …

—Together with the primedminister, I say: “Faith in humanity’s worthlessness is what keeps me going,” he sniffed.
Winnie the Pooh
was over … I flipped through the TV schedule to see if there was anything else on … drank my Lord Culvert … program after program …
Who’s Raping Who(m)
 … the usual parade of has-beens on
Culture
 … I turned up the sound, but it was still pretty low …

—Have I told you about how we murdered all those Christians in Ostvik? It was me, “Maxin,” “Elisha Burr,” Ragnar Rök, and Hilding Lindgren … We bound their hands and feet, tied them to a pole, smeared them with syrup, and threw them naked on an anthill … mosquitoes, blackflies, houseflies, and gadflies all got some, too … Then we covered them with Bible pages until they looked like mummies and lit a match … We buried them alive sixty-nine style, two on two … Death by orgasm … rats in pipes ate out their pussies … We rammed crucifixes up their asses and into their stomachs … Dunked them in acid baths, which skinned them alive … They were selfserving … we tore the fetuses out of their wombs and sprinkled them with salt and ketchup … We nailed them to hayfences by their kneecaps … Of course, we made them all fuck the priest first … Pier Luigi Farnese would’ve felt right at home …

He lost his train of thought, but found another …

—Oh yeah, mite … Next year you’ll be able to go on
Vi i femman
 … What do you think of that?

—I don’t know … do I have to?

—What the! Of course you have to! Don’t you want to show those fancy queers what you can do?

—I’m scared of messing up …

—That’s the last thing you have to worry about! You’ve learned loads from me … for example, you know it was “Race Gunther” and not Dürer who engraved “Knight, Death and the Devil” … How many prepubescent sluts do you think know anything about that?! Be thankful you get to participate!! People don’t trust their ears! Drops in the bucket! My whole life I’ve tried to be an embarrassment to myself and a warning to others … eking out a shitty little existence for you and yours … Charis and metron have beenmy guiding lights … ahimsa and caritas … but this is just plain wretched … what have I done to deserve this … the worst karma in the solarsystem … a child so hardhearted it’d give the Devil himself pause … you’re the new Seydlitz … the biggest bluff since Konrad Kujau … the worst thing to happen to Sweden since Ansgar …

Grandpa finally got tired of this querulation, his thoughts never followed a straightpath … Now the train had left without him and he was lost … he drank and waited for inspiration to strike … It looked like östen and Svante were having a good time … even though they were shitfaced sober …

—I know what we can do … let’s make some prankcalls!

He went into the bedroom and flipped through the phonebook on the nightstand.

—Let’s see … redactors? … nah … refectories … regulators … robots … salt, wholesale … sand, gravel, shingles, macadam … smokehouses … here’s a good one … Tank and Sludge in Skelleftehamn …

He dialed some numbers on the buttercolored telephone …

—Howdy! I’d like to order a sludging! that I’ll forget right away! As soon as possible! My name’s Erling Hardass and I’m stark raving mad! Do you have a penispump! I live in Orrliden! That sounds good! Let’s do that! Bye now!

He threw the phone back onto the receiver.

—All they had was an answeringmachine, the devils! I was thinking about ordering a “total inspection of all unsavoury orifices” for you at the Suck and Swallow beauty salon … Then Grandpa called the priest on duty and told him that he was about to slit hiswrists in a hot bath … The illusionist John Houdi landed himself an engagement for tomorrow evening at the old policecommisioner … Then he threatened to kill a few old ladies … Ordered fifty pizzas from Bel Party service to be delivered to an innocent girl … Time had taken a great leap forward again … it was after ten … Grandpa called emergency …

—Something real bad is about to happen …

He sounded like an auntie who’s afraid she’s got a bunintheoven.

—They’re going on something terrible … they’re going to kill each other … they’re in Dripdrop Street … Yes, my name’s Nagarjuna … and I’m here with Heliogabalus … we’re on our way out … together with Harald and Frank Alexander … but we’ll wait for you … absolutely … see you in a moment …

The next call was to a taxiservice … We stopped to piss in a bucket … Then we went outside and waited … The taxi roared up like a batoutofhell … a couple of cougars appeared from the house next door … They weren’t exactly kittenfresh … dewynew … but they’d done their best to look it … spackled over the flaws … they were sourpussies without a cock to ram them … they needed something hard between their thighs … they were divorced, single … secondhand goods … spavined … petulant … I recognized the woman who’d gotten fucked on the kitchen table, I’d seen her on the back of a milkcarton … she was number thirteen in a series of notorious, neurotic bluelightspecialwhores from Gold Town, which the ill-humored liked to call Skellefteå … she seemed dull and dense. Grandpa went up and introduced us …

—Hi there, I’m Michael Myers and this here is Jason …

The two sluts were insolent, giggly … their labiallips were swollen with wine … When the taxi drove up, Grandpa dumped thepissbucket over their heads … They put up a fuss … made a stink … Their nice evening had been ruined … these were women with oldfashioned morals … each of them had worked whole citydistricts on their backs … they descended on Grandpa, delicate fists swinging … he knocked the two shrews out … then we jumped into the taxi …

—Possibility Square …

We passed a police car … they were too late … The taxi drivers days were numbered … you could see it immediately … he was depressed … unhappiness dripped from every pore … he looked like he’d singlehandedly shouldered the blame for the genocides in Equatorial Guinea, Rwanda, and Burundi … Ropes and knives, bridges and guns send secret signals to guys like that … Grandpa talked about the
Summa Theologica,
asked the driver if he really thought that Socrates blew Alcibiades …

—I don’t know …

—Can you believe that I’m made up of quark-gluon-plasma! I needed
cura
but I got
usural

—Uh-huh …

—Now you’ve wounded me! We gotta make it right …

—Be quiet, you shit …

—Did you just cuss at me?! you devil! How’s that for manners! With that sweet mouth, I bet you’re just a babyfucking homo! Plebian! Cuckold! Cirdejerker! Democrat!

The driver slammed on the brakes, told us to pay and get out …

—What the … don’t you want to kiss and make up … ?

—Pay the damn seventy-eight kroner and get out! You’ve crossed the line!

—I crossed it a long time ago, friend … Fuck me, but you look just like Allende …

The driver glared at Grandpa in the rearview mirror …

—You
are
Allende! Confess it, you devil! You escaped your just deserts! You thought you were safe! But now you’ve met
Los Novios de la Muertel

Just like that the pianowire was around Allende’s throat … in a flash and a gurgle he was dead … We hauled the cadaver out of the car, emptied the cashbox, and then Grandpa burned rubber toward downtown … He forgot to brake at a red light outside of Expolaris … We hit a Renault with an average Joe inside … the cars came together in a tangle of bumpers and trailerhooks … we got out and taught the guy a lesson … then we beat a retreat …

—Let’s go to Scandic and have a beer!

It was nearby … big and fancy and askew and it had a glassceiling … they wouldn’t let us in …

—Come on, Taisto, Grandpa begged, were as good as any of them!

—It’s got nothing to do with that … the boy’s too young and you’re both drunk …

—I’m shitsober! I swear! I just had a beer with my sausage, that’s all!

—No point in arguing … we’ve got our rules …

Grandpa paused a moment …

—Can’t we just come in and get warm … See, I look just like Twiggy! and the boy here is a carboncopy of Genet! I know that gay hairdresser, Moshe Bindefeld! I participated in “Glaube und Schönheit”! We aren’t sybarites, if that’s what you thought! I’ve got pubelocks from both Ulyanov and Jughashvili!

When the bouncer was least expecting it, Grandpa stuck a knife in his belly.

—One side, seacalf!

Grandpa sliced a cyclist across the face, flung himself up on his bike, and peddled away … He made the sign of the cross, so I understood we’d meet at the nearest church … I raced past the Canal School, alongside Nygatan … they were after me … two big boors … Kodiak bears … their legs pumped like pistons … their shoes slapped the pavement … I knew it was a matter of life or death … if they caught me, it was all over … they Parted panting … lagged behind … I picked up the pace … they gave up … I kept running … came to my senses … found my way back to St. Olaf … Grandpa was waiting for me in the dark … I saw his ciggiglow …

—I just knew it, mite … You’re a little Aouita in the rough … now if you could just get rid of those lovehandles …

He pulled me under the streetlight.

—Before we go into Etage, I need to have a look at you …

Sincerely feigned dismay lit his eyes …

—What a sight! The worst I’ve ever seen! It’d make anyone sick just looking at you!

—What is it, Grandpa?

—You probably look like this all the time! But I never look at you this closely! No wonder they wouldn’t let us in! … you’re Elephant Man in the flesh … or maybe the sexhungry monster in Tobe Hooper’s
Funhouse …
we’ve got to do something about this …

We hid behind the churchyard wall … after a little while two blond, nineteen-year-old shebeasts came strolling along … infuckme outfits … chatting like naughty kiddos on the way to a Christmastreeplundering … Grandpa blocked their path …

—Greetings, Judith and Salome …

They stepped into the street, to hell with Grandpa … Resolutely, he grabbed their manes and cracked their skulls together … a few times … there was a squishypopping sound … their eyebrows and lips split open … they fainted … Grandpa drew out his Game Skinner and began to scalp one expertly … with conquistadorian flair he held up a blooddripping blonde wig …

—When you put it on, make sure the blood soaks your hair … that way it’ll stick …

While I did that, he rooted around in the little floozy’s purse for her makeupcase …

—Let’s see, a bit of red and black on your humdrum face and you might reel in a little MS-cock, if you’re lucky …

He fixed me up under the streetlamp’s deadwhite light, and then I caught a glimpse of myself in the case’s little round mirror … I looked damned … in a different way than usual, I mean … I changed into the girl’s black eelskindress, put on her suedejacket, hose, and pumps …

—There you go, now you’re a fullfledged whore …

We made our way into the city … humanity babbled around us … A Sunday evening makes you want to trashtalk your country more than St. Bernhard and St. Goytisolo combined … Grandpa sang “Der Tod sei unser Kampfgenoss, wir sind die schwarzen Scharen!” We passed a fat, ugly statue … stores … Kid and Nervefiber … Blast-Furnace Bazaar … Salamander Optics … Inside a doorway, Lars “Humpy” Holmgren was on his knees, trying to give a pal a blowjob … Rönnmarks … Thylins … Dåmus … around the corner past the Sparkbanken … Etage … Malmia … Into the lobby, which stank of dirty living … ropes formed barriers … we took the lefthand path, as we always do … the bouncers nodded their understanding … Grandpa shelled out two hundred kroner … they let us in … I left my jacket with a humanoid behind the counter … got a little plastic ticket as a reminder … We went downstairs … afrojudaic rhythms were pounding … the light was glaring … people were playing roulette … the room looked promising, it was packed with boys … G andpa recognized a few initiates and winked … he’d brought me to the temple of pleasure and love … It was dark, smoky, warm, and fleshpacked … rotten and raw … idols and progeny … Jungle rhythms thumped … waking vulgar desires … a shething was singing like she was in pain … why don’t you touch me … waa-a-oa-a-a-aaa … A maze of stairs led up and down to the dance floor … We formed a Boar Snout and shouldered our way to the central bar … scooted in next to Tomas Sandström and UfFe Samuelsson, who robustly caressed each others hardused cocks through their stonewashed jeans … Judge Stäglich was in a heated discussion with Mailer, Ärkesnärt was looking on, three Greenlanders, Kennet, Rolf, and Kjell tried to outdo each other in piggishness … Grandpa ordered a drink …