— Good Lord, what big hemorrhoids you have! Hilding laughed.
— Blood’s the best fucksauce, Grandpa retorted bitterly.
— You don’t have to feel dirty or nothing, Hilding reassured him.
With a firm grip on Grandpa’s Biafrahips, he drove his chimneybrush deep into Grandpa’s wildstrawberrygrotto.
— O-Oh-Ohh! Grandpa panted. Satan, it’s good to have my clock cleaned! Hilding, pound me with that croolcock of yours! make me feel like a flayedbaby!
Marlene humped him like a naughtygaycentaur.
— You want to fuck my bones until they crack, don’t you? Grandpa howled.
Just to be wicked, Hilding put an oldwomanheadscarf on him, but Grandpa didn’t notice. The tempo picked up, Hilding went at it like a murderous troll with Old Testament resolve. Grandpa tossed his head and screeched out loud. It was the worst I’d ever seen, thewhole house was shaking. Hildings cock was like a piston, it was turning blackandblue, and there Grandpa was, begging for more.
— That’s it, abscessass, Hilding whinnied at last.
My Grandpa spewed foam and spoke in tongues, it looked like he was in his death throes. Hilding moaned until it hurt, then came so hard it splashed deep into Grandpas gut, shot right through him and dribbled out the corners of his mouth. It was a good while before Hilding was himself again. There was so much lovejuice it terrified me.
— I think you’ve crippled me, Grandpa finally growled and ripped off the headscarf. But fuck me if we haven’t earned ourselves a cup of coffee.
While we drank coffee, Hilding sang “Greasy Love” by Snoddas: “Long ago when I was young my dick was big and mean / and all the boys for miles around were jealous of my seed / in every house and every town I had a little friend / who’d use their ass to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze me dry again … Though man and beast may hate me for my stiff one / I’ll rub and love my ogrecock for as long as I’m alive / I’ll laugh and cry, my sperm will fly/straight down the throat of a scabby old goat …”
Grandpa told us about a failed sixty-nine he’d had with the Stenbergapyromaniac back in the fifties, then he slapped the back of my head for being so giggly. The doorbell rang and I went to get it. Two toddlers were selling gingerbread cookies for the dildomakers in Kräkångersnoret. Both were wideeyed and gullible; at that age they’ll swallow anything. Grandpa wasted no time. He seized them both by their hairtufts and dragged them into the living room. At that, they began to shake and whine.
— No crying! Grandpa shrieked.
Then he pounded their milkteeth out with a mortar.
— Suck on God, he grunted and grabbed the kid with the blondest hair. Here’s a lipstick for you to chew on.
When he was finished with their mouths, he told me to get him a fistful of steel wool. Then he started playing Open the Locked Door with the first kid. The other one curtsied and bowed to Hilding, but a knee to the face took his breath away. After that, Royal showed him how to smoke Sumatra cigarillos and Hilding forced the kid to kiss him down there.
— Try it, you might like it, old Auntie Marlene grumbled when the kid wouldn’t open wide.
— Mind your manners, Royal groaned at the one Grandpa had just released.
— He’s nothing to write home about himself, Grandpa said, winking meaningfully at the urchin and swallowing a fistful of Oxazepam. I mean, his meat is all rotten, he continued, squeezing Royal’s doughy manhood with a look of disgust.
— What did you say about my boy? Hilding demanded.
— The worst thing about you, Hilding, is that you howl when you shit. You don’t even know when it’s over. Get out of my house, asscunt, and take the buggerbitch with you.
— You’re real pissy all of a sudden, Hilding laughed and fondled himself.
— Start walking, Grandpa ordered. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass, you old gypsydevil.
— You know, people talk too much, Hilding said spitefully. And you know what they’ve been saying about you, Grandpa?
— I don’t give a rat’s ass.
— They call you and the boy Pimplejuice and Soursprout, and they say your asshole’s so dogeared it wouldn’t sell at the dollar-store, and that your boy’s so ugly he has to suck invalids just so he can afford the next issue of Korak, Son of Tarzanl You’ve sucked your last dick, Grandpageezer, that I can promise you! Hilding went on cockily, grabbing an old rifle out of the trashbag.
— What the hell are you talking about, Grandpa hiccuped. Have you no sense of decency in you?
— You’re about to find out, old sport. Get ready for a bullet in the twat! Prepare yourself for your last good pounding!
I flew at Hilding and started biting his neckrolls.
— What are you doing, you garbagegrub? he screamed and punched me where it counts.
In the meantime, Grandpa had knocked Royal out with a piece of firewood. Marlene was what you might call a hardened fighter, but I grabbed his dick and squeezed until he laid down his weapon.
— Leave off, mite, Grandpa said, clutching his heart, you’ll be the death of me! You know, Hilding Marlene, you’re the worst thing I’ve seen since Olga Korbut and Ida Nudel sang “Dancing in the Streets” in Babi Yar! plus you’re a real balltwiddler when it comes to the old pushandshove!
— And you’re fucking sick in the head, snapped Hilding.
— Nah, I just got a foul mouth, but I want you to do something for me, Grandpa told him. I want you to clean my hiney. And then I want you to take it all back.
— Tell your funboy to drop my rod first, Hilding sulked.
— As if you’d get off so easy. No, it’s Holmträsk justice for you.
Hilding proved to be a good asskisser, and Grandpa began to purr with enjoyment. But Marlene was tired and hot and got into trouble when he burst Grandpas favorite boil. It was the one he’d got the Pekka Langer Medal from PRO(c) for.
— Go get him!
I went to town on Hilding’s nuts like there was no tomorrow and that stopped him in his tracks. He was too drunk to really feel pain, though. Without a word he dragged Royal out the door, through the empty hall, out the front door, past the trashpile, through the sewerpit, and into their car. Then they wobbled and jerked away.
— Byebye now, and if more like you turn up, we’ll say byebye to them, too! I yelled after the Marleners.
— Now, I knew Hilding was a bastard, but I never thought he’d go and make such a fool of himself. He can’t fuck, he can’t fight, what a fucking buggerbeast! But you did good, boy, he told me, giving me a thumb’s up in just the right spot.
— Let’s kill the kids, I said, mainly because I wanted Grandpa to myself.
We went in, leaving the starry sky to cast its spell over the ashgray landscape. One kid was already dead, but the other tried to fight back. Grandpa knifed him and let him bleed out.
— Tomorrow we’ll put them in the trashbag and toss them out with Hilding’s gun.
Grandpa went around and turned off the lights and then we went to bed. Grandpa washed up with jewfatsoap and gypsyshampoo. I gurgled with ammonia. After that, we were almost ready for bed.
— Say a prayer to my old Grandpa in hell, Grandpa ordered, pulling a poliosweater over his head.
— He who knows what a child is, fuck me because I’m small, wherever I go in this world, fill my hands with shit, Satan comes, Satan goes, he loves sheepdick, that’s all, I recited.
— I don’t have any energy for flirting and fondling, mite, Grandpa said after we’d crept under the pigskin. Stick a cherry-bomb up your ass and light it.
I had to do what he asked, because he’s a hard man. Afterward, he licked my sweetspot.
— Fall nights are like a kid’s ass, always wet, he mumbled before he slept.