Read Online Assisted Living: A Novel by Nikanor Teratologen - Free Book Online
Authors: Nikanor Teratologen
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Grandpa picks up a book, but he instantly gets sick of it. That’s when you get to hear what he thinks about those pussyscribblers … someone shoulddrink them under the table! lightweights! gutless breakwinds, miserable assholes, windbags! Off with their hands and feet! just for the fun of it! like in Karaganda! you write a book! a single sentence! and you’ve waived the right to live! God forgives everything you do to wordwrenchers!
And so on and so forth.
—I’m the one and only consummate Thelemite, because I shit on Crowley’s life and piss on his work!
Grandpa’s bitter he never got to scrap with Aleister … Sometimes he flaunts the dirty letters Stefan George, Proust, and Wittgenstein sent him when he was a strapping young buck …
—Now you can see what they go in for, those Aunties Green, Brown, and Violet. Why, those hoitytoity spinsters have only got cockandass on the brain! Marcel stuck nails in rats and came on his mama’s picture! And Boy George, what a primadonna! “Als sieger dring ich einst in euer hirn, ich der verscharrte …” Hot-damn, that’s for me! A great horny owl in a magpie’s skirt! I’m not even going to tell you the sorts of thing he wrote! No one would believe me! It’s just too, too revolting! And Ludwig! no point in trying to outtalk an idiot or outlumber a calf. Here he writes that he wants to meet me in his nasty Norwegian cottage! I’m supposed to bring two weeks’ worth of shit in my bowels! without a hair on my body! smeared up with resin and covered in horse-hairtufts! then he’ll whip me until I’m just a bloodystain! leave me for the skuas! There you have it! Genius in all its glory! Bighead, smallwit, spread your legs and take a shit! I’m finished with the likes of them! Poppycock and tommyrot! Hefty tomes full of difficult words! A million shittyass viewpoints! Cultures only cock-andbooze! if you just scratch the surface!
But now Grandpa was contorted like a sandflea and sucking for all he was worth; his body shone like lead against the oxbloodcolored sheets. Homemade comfort. Some people call that position thirty-four and a half, since its half a sixty-nine. Grandpas cock is average, just a little thin and worn. It was holding its own, though, that’s for sure. He was sucking so hard his stomach was growling. He has dainty lips, a strong tongue, endless spittle, and his eyeballs rolled behind their greenpainted lids. It seemed to be going good for him, selfmade is wellmade, so I took myself down the stairs and through the hallway to the outer door. I unlocked it and looked out. Standing there was an old man no one had seen before.
—Is the head of the house at home?
He had a voice like Mr. Bean’s, you know: constipated and Biblethumping.
—Yeah, but he’s giving himself a blowjob.
The man didn’t waste any more words, just pushed me aside, rushed in, and yanked off his caracul and galoshes. He showed himself into the living room, plopped down on a rockingchair, and stayed quiet. He looked like a normal guy, just kind of old and serious. Most of them are like that, quiet their whole lives, slaving away, faring ill.
I’d like to be one of those.
__________
Aunties Green, Brown, and Violet —figures from a book by the Swedish author Elsa Beskow
Als sieger dring ich … —From Stefan George’s poem “Der Gehenkte” (The Hanged Man)
XI
I was reading Grandpa the personals from the Västerbotten Volksblad. I made sure to skip the really perverted ones, though, where someone was advertising for a person of the opposite sex. Those’ll make you sick after only a few lines.
“A slightly bitter woman is waiting for you. I’m 19 and have 3 kids. I look 40. It all feels so strange. Why did they do this to me? I’ve done my best, but I simply can’t go on …”
Or: “Skinny white guy, 24 years old, short, with everyday interests, seeks girl with special interests. I don’t think I’ve ever done it, but I’m willing to give it a
And so on and so forth.
—I’m the one and only consummate Thelemite, because I shit on Crowley’s life and piss on his work!
Grandpa’s bitter he never got to scrap with Aleister … Sometimes he flaunts the dirty letters Stefan George, Proust, and Wittgenstein sent him when he was a strapping young buck …
—Now you can see what they go in for, those Aunties Green, Brown, and Violet. Why, those hoitytoity spinsters have only got cockandass on the brain! Marcel stuck nails in rats and came on his mama’s picture! And Boy George, what a primadonna! “Als sieger dring ich einst in euer hirn, ich der verscharrte …” Hot-damn, that’s for me! A great horny owl in a magpie’s skirt! I’m not even going to tell you the sorts of thing he wrote! No one would believe me! It’s just too, too revolting! And Ludwig! no point in trying to outtalk an idiot or outlumber a calf. Here he writes that he wants to meet me in his nasty Norwegian cottage! I’m supposed to bring two weeks’ worth of shit in my bowels! without a hair on my body! smeared up with resin and covered in horse-hairtufts! then he’ll whip me until I’m just a bloodystain! leave me for the skuas! There you have it! Genius in all its glory! Bighead, smallwit, spread your legs and take a shit! I’m finished with the likes of them! Poppycock and tommyrot! Hefty tomes full of difficult words! A million shittyass viewpoints! Cultures only cock-andbooze! if you just scratch the surface!
But now Grandpa was contorted like a sandflea and sucking for all he was worth; his body shone like lead against the oxbloodcolored sheets. Homemade comfort. Some people call that position thirty-four and a half, since its half a sixty-nine. Grandpas cock is average, just a little thin and worn. It was holding its own, though, that’s for sure. He was sucking so hard his stomach was growling. He has dainty lips, a strong tongue, endless spittle, and his eyeballs rolled behind their greenpainted lids. It seemed to be going good for him, selfmade is wellmade, so I took myself down the stairs and through the hallway to the outer door. I unlocked it and looked out. Standing there was an old man no one had seen before.
—Is the head of the house at home?
He had a voice like Mr. Bean’s, you know: constipated and Biblethumping.
—Yeah, but he’s giving himself a blowjob.
The man didn’t waste any more words, just pushed me aside, rushed in, and yanked off his caracul and galoshes. He showed himself into the living room, plopped down on a rockingchair, and stayed quiet. He looked like a normal guy, just kind of old and serious. Most of them are like that, quiet their whole lives, slaving away, faring ill.
I’d like to be one of those.
__________
Aunties Green, Brown, and Violet —figures from a book by the Swedish author Elsa Beskow
Als sieger dring ich … —From Stefan George’s poem “Der Gehenkte” (The Hanged Man)
XI
I was reading Grandpa the personals from the Västerbotten Volksblad. I made sure to skip the really perverted ones, though, where someone was advertising for a person of the opposite sex. Those’ll make you sick after only a few lines.
“A slightly bitter woman is waiting for you. I’m 19 and have 3 kids. I look 40. It all feels so strange. Why did they do this to me? I’ve done my best, but I simply can’t go on …”
Or: “Skinny white guy, 24 years old, short, with everyday interests, seeks girl with special interests. I don’t think I’ve ever done it, but I’m willing to give it a
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