Nikanor Teratologen - Assisted Living - A Novel

— Laudrup is on his side of the field … against Roberto … Beguiristain … Salinas coming to his aid … Cochones back to Zubi-zarreta … who hammers the ball … signals … kicks … the Dutch defense has gotten organized … van Aerie back to van Breukelen … They’re playing like they’ve got Alzheimer’s, don’t you think?

— They like to feint, especially at the start …

— Yeah, but it’s been about a hundred and thirty minutes!

— They like to gather in a group and keep a close watch on their own goal … the match becomes something like strategic warfare … the most important thing is that your team has the ball … you’ll get your chance …

— Its dullsville! It’s too goddamned slow! At least we had that brutal tackle from behind … we’ll get to see it in slowmo … hooboy! He knew what he was doing … could it be, will it be a meniscus tear?

— It looks like it’s Laudrup …

— Hope his tendons toast!

By this time, the commentators were just about foaming at the mouth.

— He’s out for at least three months!

— Could be a pulled ligament!

— For the love of God, it looks serious … he’s being carried off the field … looks like he’s in pain …

— Here comes the freekick … the perfect setup for Koeman …

— The defense is playing for time … they’ve gained a meter and a half …

The referee waved a yellowcard. The freekick struck the defense’s wall. End of the first half. Grandpa began to boil over, they were all talk and no action. The universe, on the other hand, runs on adrenaline and testosterone.

— Talk about people who have it bad! A single Grandpa with a scamp hanging from my neck and another on the way! Broke and sick and with a mass of freetime on my hands! It’s all downhill from here! It’s too much! Comeoncomeoncomeon! It’s so fucking painful! God, it hurts! Aoouuuuuu!!!

He banged his head on the edge of the table again and again as hard as he could. While he did that, he rubbed his cock, which refused to stand up.

— Moremoremore! Ah — ahhh — oahhhhhhhh! Fuck it hurts! I’m dying! Don’t stop! So fucking good! Harder faster oaahhhhh!

He fell dizzily to the rug. I didn’t give a fuck about the next overtime quarter. I dragged my Grandpa onto the sofa and wiped away the blood. Then I puked up my chips, collapsed onto the Almas fur rug, and dreamed sweet dreams about my murderer.

__________

Plupp, Klas Klättermus — Swedish children’s book characters

Der Sturmer —a weekly Nazi newspaper

Das Schwarze Korps —official newspaper of the SS

Svebil — Olov Svebilius, Archbishop of Uppsala from 1681–1700, who wrote the popular book A Simple Explanation of Martin Luthers Little Catechism

Åsa Lundgren — Swedish author who wrote Långa Lappflicken (The Tall Lap Girl)

Almas — Mongolian for “wild man,” a mythical creature similar to Bigfoot

I was in the process of lathering and shaving Grandpas asshole when the phone rang. He swore so the air sizzled and started groping around for the receiver.

— Reichsführer-SS, he answered weakly and lit a Rothman. Well, hello there, lovey! he chirped next and dug bloody furrows into my skull to make me to stop. Thanks, I’m doing fine, and how are you? … Hunkydory, syphilis, and HIV!? … You’re yanking my chain! … What? … Don’t get all huffy now … I know it’s no fucking joke!

Grandpa was laying on his stomach on the beanbag. He listened in suspense for a long moment. All he said was — Mmm … hrrmm … damn! … but isn’t that just too bad!

Then he started talking.

— You’ve got your work cut out for you. I hear you … Precisely. This business makes me sad as Appomattox! … What the hell’s wrong with people these days! … mmhmm … yeah … mmm … nah … sucking uakari cock’s all he’s good for! … the Jewbeast! … you’re kidding! … bullshit! … just think! … It’s like Pudas’s box! … precisely … No quarter!

He finally shut up, but it cost him. His head nodded and shook incessantly. His nervous tics increased. He began rocking feverishly back and forth, crinkling up his wrinkly brow. When there was finally silence on the other end, he took a deep breath. He didn’t sound as much like a hick when he started talking again.

— What can I say! I’m absolutely dumbfounded! You couldn’t find words to describe it! not if you searched high and low! … Genscher will probably join up … maybe Baker … perhaps Moammar, too … maybe, just maybe Delors … I have my claws in him, you know … yeah … you heard it right here! That only leaves one person! He’s not worth a baht, and that’s no exaggeration! … Getting the truth out of him would be the greatest miracle since Claus Heim massacred 5,000 pigs with two knitting needles and five meat thermometers! It’s sad that it’s to come to this! … that one chromosome can make so much difference … I have some influence over Donner and Schein, they owe me a favor … thunder and lightening will do what they can … Malm is my man … We can count on Nicolin … Markus Wolf and Horst Herold, too … Well get it together! That can’t be allowed to stand! Trust me! You devil … you can thank me with a really sexy Mass, okay? … what? … you’ve misunderstood me! I believe in God! I just think He’s so ashamed that He’s gone and hidden Himself! Our universe is just one among the countless batches of sperm that God in His narcissistic isolation jacked off and spewed out, just so He could put His stain on the Nothingness! Galaxies are sperm, you know! … I know you take a Near Eastern viewpoint on the matter … but we can still be friends, right … hmmm? … well? … that’s it exactly … that’s what we’ll say then … you’ll be hearing from me when I know something … the older you get, the gayer you go … andwhen you’re getting close to death … But you … you, too … take it easy, suck me sleazy … sure, you too … byebye now …

He hung up and gestured for me to continue my barber work. Grandpa’s asshole is huge and grimy and it tastes like sulfur. It’s wrinkled around the edges and unbelievably hairy. It’s ringed in red, so I think it’s infected. I have to shave it every couple of weeks, or it can’t be fucked.

— That was the Pope … he’s afraid the chimney’s about to start smoking … got in over his head with some narcotraffickinggig … Papa Escobar just called him to gloat … The Medellin Cartel are a bunch of fucking crybabies! Milksops! And just like always, I have to make everything right … If only Terre Blanche hadn’t called yesterday! You know what I told him … he wants me to come down there for the action … things are heating up, the orks are getting cocky … Fuck it all, I don’t have the time! Satan’s hairy ass! Khun Sah had a time of it, too! It’s like dancing a jig on crackedheels … like chasing-moonlight … Now I have to talk some sense into Schalck-Golodkowski and Gerrit Et Wolsink … it’ll take care of itself, though …

I finished shaving and greased his ass with babyfat. In the meantime, Grandpa was stuck remembering the past.

— I’ve fought in twenty-seven wars on four continents … I’ve personally assassinated thirteen heads of state and helped start forty-nine coups … I’m an honorary member of every counterin-telligenceoperation, criminalsyndicate, and terroristgroup worth mentioning … I’ve wiped out seventy-one plant and nineteen animalspecies … and two whole races of men … I’ve trashed priceless cultural artifacts … demolished economies … impoverished language …

Grandpa pulled on a Ghillie suit GS 1, which made him look like a compost heap. We were going purschhunting for depressives.