Nikanor Teratologen - Assisted Living - A Novel

—“The fuck you say?!”

—“I swear. I heard about it when I served in” … But wait, is that Jalle driving the bus? He’ll probably make a pass at us. Hurry up, boy, let’s see if he’s hungry …

__________

Bauer and Beskow — John Bauer and Elsa Beskow were Swedish children’s book artists

ostisch and fälisch — East European and Phalian respectively, from Hans F. K. Gunthers studies on race

bwana Namnam — Jesus Christ

Udumus — a beast-man race that Jörg Lanz von Liebenfels identified on the Assyrian King Salmanassar’s black obelisk: hairy, half-stooped

Margot Wallström — former vice-president of the European Commission

My Life’s Novel — Mitt livs novell , literally “The Book of My Life,” a womens magazine in the 1970s that gave sex advice

Dzerzhinsky cough — hacking cough, named for Felix Dzerzhinsky, first director of the Soviet secret police

Kosken — Koskenkorva Viina, a clear Finnish spirit

Explorer — a popular Swedish vodka

Homoslyr — a pesticide

German hair — soft, pliable wooly hair is said to be German, in Sweden

Landrucognac, Kürtenvodka, and Druittgin — Henri Désiré, Peter, and Montagu, respectively: renowned killers of women; Druitt was even suspected of being Jack the Ripper

Tore Hedin — Sweden’s worst mass murderer

Folke Bernadotte — Swedish diplomat and nobleman

I gotta get my hair cut! — said Red Rudi Dutschke, reportedly, after Josef Bachmann sent three bullets into him in 1968

Schuvaloff — commander of a Russian army division that operated in Västerbotten in the war of 1808–1809

The monthly mail had come … which annoyed Grandpa something fierce …

— Bunk and drivel … demands, threats, summons … collections and distraints … preliminary investigations and surcharges … seven thousand in back taxes … Flat-out rejection of my application to be fancyfree … A certificate from NAMBLA … a premature Christmas cards from Leuchter, Swaggart, and Schwarzkopf … and Gudrun Schyman …

He poured more Cheetos onto a Kefir plate and sprinkled them with Ajax. Then he continued ripping open his letters, already disappointed beforehand.

— Norstedts wants me to describe my longsufFering death … two million in advance … then ten thousand kroner a page … Extra bonus for ultraviolence and hypersex … The devils are asking for a “concise backwatter tone” … Who do they think they’re dealing with … Burroughs and Bukowski! Writings like masturbating without fingers … But look, I’m being honored for my article on Baudrillard and Bataille in Merkur and La Quinzaine littéraire … A white flag from the world’s Jews via Mordecai Gottleben … Anoffer of credit, three billion from Dai-Bitching Kangyo Bank … if I stop abusing Japs and Jews, that is … A check for twenty-five thousand, because I’m so sad and lonely … from the Sigrid Visent Memorial Fund for Indigent Bastards … The latest issue of Boy Butcher … Two books: Segev’s Soldiers of Evil, that’s about the worst concentrationcamp commanders, and Tankred Koch’s History of Executioners … Bonniers isn’t interested in my translation of the Bibliomystikon into Lappish … But here’s something nice … Gunnar sent a bunch of newly discovered bugs from the Upper Xingu River … Well look at them later …

Grandpa set the rhombusshaped piece of cardboard aside and sighed.

— An invitation from Michael Aquino and the Temple of Set … They want me to come to Wewelsburg and lead the ceremonies … I guess I could throw something together about the battle of the birch tree or something …AthankyoufromArtosPublishinginSkellefteå … “Without YOUR participation the collected Meister Eckhart sermons wouldn’t have been possible!” … blahblahblah! who the hell cares … They should’ve been nice and sent me a rosycheeked cherub instead … I could’ve played Tiberius and the little fish … that little game Suetonius gossiped about … The cops want my expert expertise on an investigation into sexual attacks on children … An inquiry about whether I want to defend my S&M title … An offer to lead a course called “Trashing the Swedish Language” … The usual private weekly update from Peter Arnett … And last and certainly least, a picture postcard from Astro Lindgren … “I don’t know where I am … life sucks and I’m scared..And here we have the latest diagnosis from the hospital … they’ve called in the bigguns from Jerrold Post’s Center for the Analysis of Personalityand Political Behavior to help them … I really worked up all the psychiatrists they sent to “help” me … They think I’m “an evil, phallic narcissist” with “necrophiliac tendencies” … A “schizophrenic solopsist” filled with “demonic rage, an insane thirst for revenge, and a wild contempt for the entire human race” … They talk about “total alienation,” “paranoid and sociopathic tendencies,” “sexual psychosis,” and “a fetishization of violence” … Poppycock and twaddle! … Up one side and down the other … contradictory bullshit … The only thing wrong with me is that I never got enough beatings or love …

Grandpa lit a Salem, took it out of his mouth, and stuffed in a horde of marzipanpiggies. He seemed apathetic and absent-minded. I slurped up the last of my oatmeal from the shallow bottom of my lucky plate. I’m not allowed to take milk or butter, but there was a little gunoil left, so I smeared it on a piece of sweetbread. Then I drank some Salubrin.

— Every letter, every telephone conversation, every visit, just another nail in my cross, Grandpa said, when he’d finally swallowed. People exist only to be corrupted and killed … I’ve spent my entire life leading the battle against humanity … The humananimal has had his time in the spotlight … Now he’ll have to eat what he’s puked up … He’s done the best he could … haircare and guidance on language usage … charters and therapies … cuntbrains … sisnadevas … orgasmaggregates … I’ll see their backs against the wall, I promise you that, Lustolito …

Grandpa exaggerates, but most of the time there’s something to what he says. Unfortunately, what came next made me want to laugh. Some say he’s fickle, but I don’t buy that … I know his game. He doesn’t always mean what he says.

— Grief, hate, and shame … They’re the pillars of the Krishnan throne … Life’s got three billion years by the scruff of the neck … Our screwball Creator’s great idea … Always the same old song … Kill, fuck, eat, shit … Hate, howl, carcass, fetus … Cum, blood, flesh, death … Struggle, bluff, fear, nausea … How strange we never get fed up … Long to get away … Look for something a little less garish … Life just leaves you hanging …

He smeared grease and snot on a rotting scab, glanced up, and saw that nothing ever changed … All was lost … Blueblack clouds were piling up, the wind shook the grumbling Worldtree. Evening here is always just around the corner. We don’t see the sun until it’s on its way down.

— Nasty looking clouds, I said. Looks like it’s going to be one hell of a folkstorm.

— Evil’s dark spirits, hosts, and principalities infecting the sky! Coming to take away the Philistines and Pharisees …

Grandpa moistened his thumb, gathered up a few golden breadcrumbs, and licked lips that would never be clean. Then he took some dirty swigs from a flask of Polish robberrum.

— Kids should be raised by animals … Jackels and baboons … otherwise, you just end up with crybabies … Sade’s the only writer who knew anything about love … Read, laugh, and enjoy … Laban and Åby are traitors … Piss is good … Hegel’s easy …