Assisted Living: A Novel

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Authors: Nikanor Teratologen
Tags: Fiction, Literary
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try. I’ve got a pretty secure job and I’m happy to share. Everything we’ve pent up needs to come out. I’m living with Aunt Sigris right now, but am looking for my own place..
    But Grandpa was only interested in the homoads. Unfortunately, all the ones who wrote in to Gay Guy Contact were too far away. Southerners seem to be gayer Nonetheless, the locals did seem to be getting gayer by the hour. Grandpa was lying on the ribbackedsetee and sucking down some Johnny Walker Black Label, and I was reading the ads in the order they were printed.
    —“Shy, incontinent Sävarbugger, who’s usually a wallflower at dances, wants to find a fellow he can snuggle with. You are laid-back, nice and sweet, inmates preferred. I’m bald and nervous and only smoke at parties. I work at a daycare center. Desire is driving me wild. Especially interested in illegal immigrants! Respond to: ‘Got that spring feeling down in Obbola.’”
    —Damn, what a repulsive pig! Onto the next one …
    —“Horny guy, 39 years old, small and dark, looking to find a sex-hungry backseatjockey in a preppy cardigan and berretta. You are 67 years old, deaf and dumb, suffer from psoriasis, and preferably live in Vuollerim. Extra plus if you’re bitter, angry, and have a chronic smoker’s cough Reply to: ‘We two in in the old jalopy, Wilmar.”’
    —Go on …
    —“Crabby sanatorium dweller, 29 years old, with a thin blond mustache wants to be slapped around by a wellhungguy. I have an appetite for most things that make life a party, and I’ve hung out with Etienne Glaser and Hans Werthén, to name a few. Interests include: casualsex, emptyshells, the vermiformappendix. I’ve got AIDS and the guardianship of an autistic child. Respond to: ‘If there’s no time, there’s no time.’”
    Grandpa sighed dejectedly, and I knew what he meant.
    —“Sallow, fat, cowardly man in upper middle age seeks contact with a flexible snugglebunny with huge manboobs. I’m bulimic and want you to cum inside me while I puke. Respond to: ‘Churchwarden who believes in truelove.’”
    —Well cut the dick off that one, Grandpa swore.
    —“I am who I am and I’ve been paid back with interest. It’s good to walk a straightline. How we can meet. Take a car if it’s too far. I live alone. Drink and jack off. Us men should stick together. Like those young guys too shy to try a smokesucksmutyourselfup session in Kusmark. Whats the big deal. That’s all. Respond to: ‘Bertil.’”
    —That must be Hilding Henning up in Sälgdal. He hasn’t fucked anyone in over fifty years. And he isn’t going to fuck me, none of them are …
     
    __________
    Etienne Glaser —actor, producer, and scriptwriter
    Hans Werthén —Swedish industryman

XII
    — Sweden’s only had one writer worth his salt and that was Elfred Berggren from Furuögrund. I’ve read God of Robots over a hundred times. He was the same age as me and Himmler, but died at thirty-two when he was raped by a ringedseal …
    Grandpa poured himself some more smallbeer. He was trying to crush a whole bottle of Veronal into his mug, and he was stirring with the stick normally used for mercykillings. He was wearing a T-shirt with the words “Adolf Hitler European Tour 1939–1945,” a warharness, and Israeli commandoboots with Hushalongs. I was wearing my culturalrevolutionary outfit and a black skimask. We were getting ready to go out. We’d made quick work of newlyhatchingeggs, newbomkoalas, and teutoburgers. For dessert, Ibiza cream and Pat-pong dates. Grandpa had spent the morning reading Deschner’s The Criminal History of Christianity and Villeneuve’s The Torture Museum. Now he was going on and on about the stagparty literaturi.
    —A knife blow to an old woman’s back’s got more culture than anything those scribblescrabbling morons will ever come up with … belleslettresloving cuntlickers … that’s what they are …

XIII
    Yesterday we played games until our eyes bled and our

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