Vivo, wrinkled as a wet ballsack and with a ciggi dangling from each nostril.
—Wherethehell s Pulli and Nyllet? Grandpa demanded.
—Hooked up to respirators. Suicidepact. Tried to suffocate each other with their dicks.
—Ooh, that’s horrible! Grandpa screeched, lighting a ciggibutt, whatever could’ve gotten into them? Nyllet was so fucking sug-arysweet, he had peachfuzz inside of him! And Pulli, Godforbid! he was just made to suck you deep!
—Too true, Vivo smiled.
—How long have you two been married? Grandpa croaked, ashing in Vivos hair.
—Don’t really know. But now it looks like I’m all by my lonesome, she said, scratching her crotch.
—But Vivo, you old bonedry cowcunt, you wouldn’t happen to know if Ditti or Amos would be up for a little harmless flirtation, would you? said Grandpa, warbling like a fucking swingkid.
—I heard Ditti was shitting himself after he let himself be duped into some gang hankypanky with a group of Polacks down by the docks, all for a keg of beer. And Amos just moved in with Björn-motherhexer. As of now, he’s only got eyes for one.
—What about Gammsagge Ahlgren, the organgrinding queer?
—All he wants to do nowadays is pretty up young Mormon boys, cackled Vivo. But you can try it with Tattar-Torsten up in Högsen, I hear he’s like a cat in heat.
—Hell no, I’d rather diddle a woman, Grandpa blasphemed.
—You sweet man, I’ve always said there’s no finer gent in all of Kågedell than old Grandpageezer, Vivo lisped and licked her lips. That got Grandpa shaking in his boots. Just to be safe, he beat her with his cane until she swayed, lost her wig, and collapsed. Then we hauled ass back across the bridge.
—Hell, that Vivo’s nasty as Old Nick, I squeaked.
Grandpa was trembling so bad he’d pissed his snowboots.
—I thought it was all over, mite, he finally stammered. Did you see her eyefucking me? I never thought I’d live to see the day when it was so hard to drum up a little action around here.
—We can hide in the bushes around the kindergarten and snap up a boy or two to fondle, I suggested.
—Nah, I’ve lost the urge, Grandpa sighed. Women—they just make me limp. But pull up a chair and listen here. What say you go and nab us some bacon and old Swissrolls and then we’ll surprise Hilding Dahlgren at the old folk’s home. Oh, and if they’ve got issue twenty-nine of My Life’s Novel, grab it. Meet me at the church afterward, I like to shit in peace! He was still yelling as I made my way to the supermarket to nab what we needed.
I watched out for the girls making faces at me, but then I almost got lost. Behind the parish house a tobaccopug was tonguing a kidneystone buyer from Istermyrliden. At that same moment, a tbs. of people came dripping out of Kågebadets gates and shrieked and laughed at me. A few of them picked up rocks and gave chase. When they caught me, they punched me in the stomach and kicked me in the head.
When I woke up, they were gone. Luckily, the church was close by. I went inside and immediately got hot. Grandpa was sitting on the altar chainsmoking. His pants were down around his knees, those long legs of his were hanging loose, and God’s house was chockfull of his uncleanness. But he was pissy and kept his distance.
—You took your time! he exclaimed, coughing a Dzerzhinsky cough and boxing my ear.
—I had to suck J.O. at the hardware store to get some of this paint thinner, I said defensively.
—Is that right? Grandpa asked, clearing his throat. Now clean me.
I tonguescrubbed his sweetspot until he started to protest.
—Okay, cowboy, enough with the fine tuning!
He pulled up his pants and snuffed his ciggi out on Jesus’s left nipple.
—Now well see what Hilding’s good for, Grandpa declared and spit in a churchwarden’s eye on his way out.
The river murmured in heat. Kåges center spread itself out. There’s no library anymore, instead there’s a video store. They also have a paint
—Wherethehell s Pulli and Nyllet? Grandpa demanded.
—Hooked up to respirators. Suicidepact. Tried to suffocate each other with their dicks.
—Ooh, that’s horrible! Grandpa screeched, lighting a ciggibutt, whatever could’ve gotten into them? Nyllet was so fucking sug-arysweet, he had peachfuzz inside of him! And Pulli, Godforbid! he was just made to suck you deep!
—Too true, Vivo smiled.
—How long have you two been married? Grandpa croaked, ashing in Vivos hair.
—Don’t really know. But now it looks like I’m all by my lonesome, she said, scratching her crotch.
—But Vivo, you old bonedry cowcunt, you wouldn’t happen to know if Ditti or Amos would be up for a little harmless flirtation, would you? said Grandpa, warbling like a fucking swingkid.
—I heard Ditti was shitting himself after he let himself be duped into some gang hankypanky with a group of Polacks down by the docks, all for a keg of beer. And Amos just moved in with Björn-motherhexer. As of now, he’s only got eyes for one.
—What about Gammsagge Ahlgren, the organgrinding queer?
—All he wants to do nowadays is pretty up young Mormon boys, cackled Vivo. But you can try it with Tattar-Torsten up in Högsen, I hear he’s like a cat in heat.
—Hell no, I’d rather diddle a woman, Grandpa blasphemed.
—You sweet man, I’ve always said there’s no finer gent in all of Kågedell than old Grandpageezer, Vivo lisped and licked her lips. That got Grandpa shaking in his boots. Just to be safe, he beat her with his cane until she swayed, lost her wig, and collapsed. Then we hauled ass back across the bridge.
—Hell, that Vivo’s nasty as Old Nick, I squeaked.
Grandpa was trembling so bad he’d pissed his snowboots.
—I thought it was all over, mite, he finally stammered. Did you see her eyefucking me? I never thought I’d live to see the day when it was so hard to drum up a little action around here.
—We can hide in the bushes around the kindergarten and snap up a boy or two to fondle, I suggested.
—Nah, I’ve lost the urge, Grandpa sighed. Women—they just make me limp. But pull up a chair and listen here. What say you go and nab us some bacon and old Swissrolls and then we’ll surprise Hilding Dahlgren at the old folk’s home. Oh, and if they’ve got issue twenty-nine of My Life’s Novel, grab it. Meet me at the church afterward, I like to shit in peace! He was still yelling as I made my way to the supermarket to nab what we needed.
I watched out for the girls making faces at me, but then I almost got lost. Behind the parish house a tobaccopug was tonguing a kidneystone buyer from Istermyrliden. At that same moment, a tbs. of people came dripping out of Kågebadets gates and shrieked and laughed at me. A few of them picked up rocks and gave chase. When they caught me, they punched me in the stomach and kicked me in the head.
When I woke up, they were gone. Luckily, the church was close by. I went inside and immediately got hot. Grandpa was sitting on the altar chainsmoking. His pants were down around his knees, those long legs of his were hanging loose, and God’s house was chockfull of his uncleanness. But he was pissy and kept his distance.
—You took your time! he exclaimed, coughing a Dzerzhinsky cough and boxing my ear.
—I had to suck J.O. at the hardware store to get some of this paint thinner, I said defensively.
—Is that right? Grandpa asked, clearing his throat. Now clean me.
I tonguescrubbed his sweetspot until he started to protest.
—Okay, cowboy, enough with the fine tuning!
He pulled up his pants and snuffed his ciggi out on Jesus’s left nipple.
—Now well see what Hilding’s good for, Grandpa declared and spit in a churchwarden’s eye on his way out.
The river murmured in heat. Kåges center spread itself out. There’s no library anymore, instead there’s a video store. They also have a paint
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