Assisted Living: A Novel

by Nikanor Teratologen

  —What’s that you’ve got, Grandpa? I stammered.

  —A guanobat to plug the ass of a nosybrat! Grandpa howled and forced me to asssmoke a cigar. Then he shoved it up wrong-ways, so the room smelled like burntintestine.

  —That’ll teach you to get cute, you little nervousnelly.

  —Damn, what I wouldn’t give for a fuckhungry toddler about now, Hilding chuckled. My old man, you know, seduced Abd Ur Rama when he was still a giggly young cockteaser and you know as well as I do that he was the devil himself. He was devilishly fond of ramming nails through our balls. < >f course, there wasn’t any point in crying to mommy or hanging on her apron strings. When that happened, the old man would just make a pitchhat from squirrelcunts and wrap it around the pissmakers of us whoresons. When he ripped it off, we’d be smooth as babes between the legs. But it made men of us.

  —I remember how my old Grandpa did it, Grandpa said. If some little mama’s boy started bitching and moaning about this and that, he’d slice their belly open, wrap their intestines around their head and neck, and bite them like Satan himself until the little tyke had learned to keep his fretting to himself.

  —You’re full of shit, you old geezers, Royal declared and took a flask from his partybriefs. This’ll put hair on your tits.

  Grandpa threw his arms around our guests and showed them into the living room. They made themselves comfy on the sofa, and I crouched on the floor like a curdog.

  —A shot of brandy is good for the loving, Grandpa told them, taking a slurp from our homemadedistillery’s mainhose. The Marleners guzzled turpentine and chainsawoil, and I sucked on a ragsoaked in paintthinner. No one said anything for a few minutes, and I started to feel goodlooking and goodforsomething.

  —The boy should be guzzling mongoloidpiss! Royal suddenly shouted, and Grandpa kicked me down to the cellar for the pissbucket.

  —This is premium grade piss, you know—only the best village idiots have been invited to make a contribution, Grandpa bragged. And then he hooted: Bad behavior will earn you a calfweaner!

  I went down on my knees and drank piss until I choked. It tasted like a lovesick girl’s mouth. Then Grandpa took me on his lap and brought me back around.

  —Everything is all good now, he cooed. You know how I hate it when you whine. But its all over.

  He squeezed a gluetube onto my tongue and gave me some ethanol to wash it down with.

  —That’s right, scrub that foul taste right out of your mouth, he said. Go ahead and cry me a river, while I ram your shithole with a candlestick.

  He hummed “with lovely lips you’ll always have a baby in your arms.” Then Hilding struck up a Lappish tune, “The Song of Kuckumaffen,” and Royal whistled “you’ve got your red meat here, you’ve got your meathole there, your red meat, your meathole, right up the fucking asshole …”

  —Now let’s have a bite to eat! Hilding shrieked in falsetto.

  —It’s BYOB, kids, Grandpa declared, he’s always a real scrooge. So what have you brought?

  —Grandpa, you know I’ve had it rough. When I was young, we came in a souppot to make dumplings. We’d bite slivers fromthe inside of our lips for bologna. It was a real feast when Daddy brought home some pubichair. Creepycrawlies made a banquet, indeed. We ate dandruff for desert.

  —You going somewhere with this? Grandpa interrupted him.

  —Your mouth. Anyway, we ran after wagons on their way to buggermass and caught the spitblobs the uppityupps sent flying our way. In winter we wore gasolinebarrels and in summer we dressed in tires. We filled our bellies with stones and sponges. Every year Dad begged for shavings and splinters so we could have Christmas dinner. When someone took a shit, it was dogeatdog for who got to have it. We suckled euch other and ate what we spewed up to get by. But lets be clear about one thing! he yelled and waved Royal out to their old clunker, we’ve brought a whole trashbag just chockfull of goodies!

  Royal struggled in with a trashsack that reeked like the mouth of the Kåge River. Making a show of it, Hilding rooted around in the sack and brought out: earloberinds, burntsausage, outiesandinnies, and psoriasisbroilers. Royal cast about with prinskorvfingers and found: pimplephlegm and dingleberries, livingcandles, some ear-nose-throat runoff, and an Algotseamstress’ torso.

  —I see all that, Grandpa grunted. But you know, Hilding, my lamb, I’m just craving something sweet.

  With a dangerous glint in his eye, Royal drew a flask of Bukuttingismegma out of the skinfold of his inguinal hernia.

  —Fire up the stove for coffee, Grandpa ordered, while I cleanse myself.

  —Don’t you scions of the masterrace have a gasoven? Royal laughed.

  I lit a fire in front of the pneumaticchamber Grandpa had gotten from Uncle Rascher. The pot boiled so fast it gave me blisters along my hairline. In the meantime, Grandpa dug out a yetipastei and a bucket of sheeps wool soaked in lubricatingoil. He opened up his IV bag and emptied everything into the fagragout.

  —Waste not, want not, he declared.

  The pot simmered for a few moments and then Grandpa ladled the mixture out of the Gundestrup cauldron with a toiletbrush until everyone was satisfied. Royal started to look green about the gills. He retched, took a leak, and puked a hairball right onto Hildings burntyellow pants.

  —That’s nasty, Royal, Hilding exclaimed.

  —Do the nasty, Royal shot back.

  —Do it, just do it, when you want to go to it, I babbled, trying to make everyone smile.

  —Shut your yap while you eat, piglet, Grandpa yelped. Stuff your gut today, because tomorrow we’ll skin you raw. Of course, now he probably won’t be good for cleaning up or getting dirty, he complained peevishly.

  —A meal in a million, said Hilding, downing a twittering critter.

  For dessert the Marleners had brought sundried kiddieweewees and a package of Donald Duck cookies. After we’d finished, Hilding patted his pigbelly and Grandpa snorted blood.

  —Now we’ll have a smoke, I said, trying to sound like a Big Boy.

  —Sweetpussy, he’s all grown up, Hilding bleated.

  —Real smooth, fartface, Royal screeched.

  —It is what it is, Grandpa laughed, and now I’m ready for a carton of ciggis.

  We smoked like the rectalrabbis from Wankdorf and Hilding told us about a sanatorium patient in Bure who could take a grown cock in both nostrils at once.

  —Now were going to have ourselves a raw assfuck, Grandpa exclaimed, putting his ciggi out in my nose.

  —Or maybe a fistfuck? he asked, tousling>Royal’s curly, red, scurvy hair.

  —Lets get on with it, then, Hilding said, trying without much success to hide his enthusiasm. Were going Dutch, after all.

  Royal wriggled like a worm on a hook and howled so loud we had to cover our ears, when Grandpa rammed a wrinkled fist up his sphincter. Grandpa gave it to him hard, using his fingernails and his fist. He also kept an eagleeye open for fakeorgasms.

  —Cut the apeshit, Royal, you’re so willing it makes me blush, he crowed. Now go and molest Hilding, Grandpa said to me, and make sure you bump back real hardif he rams your ass. You know how polite and helpful you can be when you let your feelings out. If I remember right, old Hilding’s a hard bugger to milk and he sweats like a pig. He’s easypeasy, but hardtopleasy. Squeeze his tits while you suck his lolly.

  —You’re so sweet I could just eat you up, Hilding said, gnashing his teeth and dragging out his maypole. Then I got ready to do my part.

  —Suck until you drop, Hilding moaned and I could see the whites of his eyes. Time stretched as I massaged his balls with what you might call a publicservant’s devotion. As I was working him, though, I heard something heavy hit the glass. I immediately knew it was those afterbirthmunching suicidebent owls trying to break their short necks against our mirrorwindows. After I’dfinished, there was hardly a drop on top and Hilding didn’t even seem to notice he’d spewed. Grandpa drew his bloody fist out of Royals ass. Royal, for his part, was out cold with a t
humb in his mouth. Then Grandpa took a shot of something, unbuttoned his washedleather pants, pulled down his underwear, and lubricated his hairy asshole with pigfat.

  —I’ll tell you something, Hilding Marlene, and it’s this: I’m a no-good woman, he sobbed. I want you to take me just like Joseph did baby Jesus in the manger in Bethlehem!

  Hildings blotchy, weathered face lit up and his meatsack got all stiff again. Grandpa went down on all fours and stuck his ass up in the air.

  —Good Lord, what big hemorrhoids you have! Hilding laughed.

  —Blood’s the best fucksauce, Grandpa retorted bitterly.

  —You don’t have to feel dirty or nothing, Hilding reassured him.

  With a firm grip on Grandpa’s Biafrahips, he drove his chimneybrush deep into Grandpa’s wildstrawberrygrotto.

  —O-Oh-Ohh! Grandpa panted. Satan, it’s good to have my clock cleaned! Hilding, pound me with that croolcock of yours! make me feel like a flayedbaby!

  Marlene humped him like a naughtygaycentaur.

  —You want to fuck my bones until they crack, don’t you? Grandpa howled.

  Just to be wicked, Hilding put an oldwomanheadscarf on him, but Grandpa didn’t notice. The tempo picked up, Hilding went at it like a murderous troll with Old Testament resolve. Grandpa tossed his head and screeched out loud. It was the worst I’d ever seen, thewhole house was shaking. Hildings cock was like a piston, it was turning blackandblue, and there Grandpa was, begging for more.

  —That’s it, abscessass, Hilding whinnied at last.

  My Grandpa spewed foam and spoke in tongues, it looked like he was in his death throes. Hilding moaned until it hurt, then came so hard it splashed deep into Grandpas gut, shot right through him and dribbled out the corners of his mouth. It was a good while before Hilding was himself again. There was so much lovejuice it terrified me.

  —I think you’ve crippled me, Grandpa finally growled and ripped off the headscarf. But fuck me if we haven’t earned ourselves a cup of coffee.

  While we drank coffee, Hilding sang “Greasy Love” by Snoddas: “Long ago when I was young my dick was big and mean / and all the boys for miles around were jealous of my seed / in every house and every town I had a little friend / who’d use their ass to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze me dry again … Though man and beast may hate me for my stiff one / I’ll rub and love my ogrecock for as long as I’m alive / I’ll laugh and cry, my sperm will fly/straight down the throat of a scabby old goat …”

  Grandpa told us about a failed sixty-nine he’d had with the Stenbergapyromaniac back in the fifties, then he slapped the back of my head for being so giggly. The doorbell rang and I went to get it. Two toddlers were selling gingerbread cookies for the dildomakers in Kräkångersnoret. Both were wideeyed and gullible; at that age they’ll swallow anything. Grandpa wasted no time. He seized them both by their hairtufts and dragged them into the living room. At that, they began to shake and whine.

  —No crying! Grandpa shrieked.

  Then he pounded their milkteeth out with a mortar.

  —Suck on God, he grunted and grabbed the kid with the blondest hair. Here’s a lipstick for you to chew on.

  When he was finished with their mouths, he told me to get him a fistful of steel wool. Then he started playing Open the Locked Door with the first kid. The other one curtsied and bowed to Hilding, but a knee to the face took his breath away. After that, Royal showed him how to smoke Sumatra cigarillos and Hilding forced the kid to kiss him down there.

  —Try it, you might like it, old Auntie Marlene grumbled when the kid wouldn’t open wide.

  —Mind your manners, Royal groaned at the one Grandpa had just released.

  —He’s nothing to write home about himself, Grandpa said, winking meaningfully at the urchin and swallowing a fistful of Oxazepam. I mean, his meat is all rotten, he continued, squeezing Royal’s doughy manhood with a look of disgust.

  —What did you say about my boy? Hilding demanded.

  —The worst thing about you, Hilding, is that you howl when you shit. You don’t even know when it’s over. Get out of my house, asscunt, and take the buggerbitch with you.

  —You’re real pissy all of a sudden, Hilding laughed and fondled himself.

  —Start walking, Grandpa ordered. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass, you old gypsydevil.

  —You know, people talk too much, Hilding said spitefully. And you know what they’ve been saying about you, Grandpa?

  —I don’t give a rat’s ass.

  —They call you and the boy Pimplejuice and Soursprout, and they say your asshole’s so dogeared it wouldn’t sell at the dollar-store, and that your boy’s so ugly he has to suck invalids just so he can afford the next issue of Korak, Son of Tarzanl You’ve sucked your last dick, Grandpageezer, that I can promise you! Hilding went on cockily, grabbing an old rifle out of the trashbag.

  —What the hell are you talking about, Grandpa hiccuped. Have you no sense of decency in you?

  —You’re about to find out, old sport. Get ready for a bullet in the twat! Prepare yourself for your last good pounding!

  I flew at Hilding and started biting his neckrolls.

  —What are you doing, you garbagegrub? he screamed and punched me where it counts.

  In the meantime, Grandpa had knocked Royal out with a piece of firewood. Marlene was what you might call a hardened fighter, but I grabbed his dick and squeezed until he laid down his weapon.

  —Leave off, mite, Grandpa said, clutching his heart, you’ll be the death of me! You know, Hilding Marlene, you’re the worst thing I’ve seen since Olga Korbut and Ida Nudel sang “Dancing in the Streets” in Babi Yar! plus you’re a real balltwiddler when it comes to the old pushandshove!

  —And you’re fucking sick in the head, snapped Hilding.

  —Nah, I just got a foul mouth, but I want you to do something for me, Grandpa told him. I want you to clean my hiney. And then I want you to take it all back.

  —Tell your funboy to drop my rod first, Hilding sulked.

  —As if you’d get off so easy. No, it’s Holmträsk justice for you.

  Hilding proved to be a good asskisser, and Grandpa began to purr with enjoyment. But Marlene was tired and hot and got into trouble when he burst Grandpas favorite boil. It was the one he’d got the Pekka Langer Medal from PRO(c) for.

  —Go get him!

  I went to town on Hilding’s nuts like there was no tomorrow and that stopped him in his tracks. He was too drunk to really feel pain, though. Without a word he dragged Royal out the door, through the empty hall, out the front door, past the trashpile, through the sewerpit, and into their car. Then they wobbled and jerked away.

  —Byebye now, and if more like you turn up, we’ll say byebye to them, too! I yelled after the Marleners.

  —Now, I knew Hilding was a bastard, but I never thought he’d go and make such a fool of himself. He can’t fuck, he can’t fight, what a fucking buggerbeast! But you did good, boy, he told me, giving me a thumb’s up in just the right spot.

  —Let’s kill the kids, I said, mainly because I wanted Grandpa to myself.

  We went in, leaving the starry sky to cast its spell over the ashgray landscape. One kid was already dead, but the other tried to fight back. Grandpa knifed him and let him bleed out.

  —Tomorrow we’ll put them in the trashbag and toss them out with Hilding’s gun.

  Grandpa went around and turned off the lights and then we went to bed. Grandpa washed up with jewfatsoap and gypsyshampoo. I gurgled with ammonia. After that, we were almost ready for bed.

  —Say a prayer to my old Grandpa in hell, Grandpa ordered, pulling a poliosweater over his head.

  —He who knows what a child is, fuck me because I’m small, wherever I go in this world, fill my hands with shit, Satan comes, Satan goes, he loves sheepdick, that’s all, I recited.

  —I don’t have any energy for flirting and fondling, mite, Grandpa said after we’d crept under the pigskin. Stick a cherry-bomb up your ass and ligh
t it.

  I had to do what he asked, because he’s a hard man. Afterward, he licked my sweetspot.

  —Fall nights are like a kid’s ass, always wet, he mumbled before he slept.

  He snored like a hornytoad. Softly, I stroked his beautiful head and dried the tears off his dry, cracked chin. Then I crept as near him as I could, pressed my body close and shook with silent sobs. I hadn’t been this horny since my dad’s mom died.

  __________

  GREVE HAMILTON—Swedish pipe tobacco

  ABD UR RAMA—a fakir who turned up in Skellefteå in the 1930s and liked to stick long, coarse nails through diverse body parts

  PITCHHAT—a gummy leather cap that sticks fast to a child’s scurfy, lice infested skull; when it’s pulled away, it takes both hair and dandruff with it

  WEANER—anti-suckling device used on calves

  METHO—denatured alcohol

  EPILEPTRIC …—literally “prince sausage,” a small Swedish sausage

  BUKUTTINGI—literally “high hill,” one of the largest cities in West Sumatra

  RASCHER—Sigmund: Nazi doctor who carried out altitude and cold experiements with deadly results in the concentration camps

  GUNDESTRUP CAULDRON—Celtic archeological find

  GOSTA “SNODDAS” NORDGREN—Swedish singer and actor

  OLGA KORBUT—Belarusian gymnast

  IDA NUDEL—Soviet-born Israeli activist

  HOLMTRÄSK JUSTICE—the way of the fist

  MEDAL FROM PRO(C)—an award instituted by the breakaway faction of the Public Retiree Organization, PRO-cocksuckers; given to the cock-sucking fogy with the fattest and ripest assboil

  XXIV

  The one thing I remember about living with my dads mom is that she liked to keep an even tone. She had a habit of suppressing laughter … I think Grandma was obese … complex … addicted to smokes … she knew what people were about, gave them all they could stand … she never talked to me, what would be the point of that … not that it made any difference … she took me in so she’d have someone to blame … she was enough and more than enough … she knew a thing or two … folded up toward the finish … she’d have had plenty left to take out on other people, if she hadn’t been so goddamned horny … everyone said so … they were right, though it sounds strange … we had it good, though … I and she … she and I … we just shut each other out … nothing was ever planned in advance … she wrung each day by the neck … sometimes she was sick … nothing to do then but starve … she’d sit with her head under the faucet … running cold water for hours … for days … she never told anyone what was wrong … she had a nose for slaughtersites … good grub to be had there … it was enough … since I received, I kept my mouth shut … she was a midwife once … when people got all upset at her, she just stonewalled them … she didn’t give a fuck … no point in getting your dander up … let them keep on keeping on, if that’s how they wanted to play it … that’s just how she was … I was safe … nothing ever changed … day and night, summer and winter … there was just a kitchen and a Grandma … a silence like outerspace … she did the best she could … it was the way she was made … it was all she’d ever known … she wouldn’t tolerate baloney and hogwash … if things weren’t normal, she made them that way … order and manners never killed anyone … she didn’t want to be a bother … didn’t want to make a fuss … just wanted to keep an even tone …