The Hitman's Guide to Housecleaning by Hallgrimur Helgason

Author:Hallgrimur Helgason [Helgason, Hallgrimur]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: AmazonEncore

CHAPTER 19

THE AFTERLIFE

05.23.2006

I’m almost crawling as I finally reach the fucking house. Yes, it’s their house. I recognize the silver Land Cruiser. That must mean they’re home. I’m the only one who walks in this country. The bleeding seems to have stopped. But the tooth’s still missing. I must look like I’ve been hanging on a cross for a day or two. I’m out of breath when I ring the bell.

When I ring the fucking church bells.

Sickreader comes to the door and immediately slams it back on my broken nose. More church bells. Goodmoondoor’s face shows itself in the vertical window beside the door. The good old llama head with the long front teeth. As someone who has hitchhiked to the core of his own soul, he’s able to cut through the blood, sweat, and tears. He recognizes me and opens the door. We face each other: the toothbrushed and the toothcrushed.

“What is…What is to see you?” he asks. Must be some local phrase. “What happen to you? You are all in blood.”

“Hih….”

Talking hurts like hell. The tiny word burns my throat and cracks my skull. So I let my eyes do the talking. (They must look like two tiny wells in a mud pit.) I’m so fucking happy to see them! I even lose my balance and fall on my knees at their golden threshold. I reach out for his pants, but he moves back a little, his wife standing behind him. My sore, swollen hand touches his sock-covered toes, and I start wailing like a walrus with a broken fang.

“Goodmooh…” I can’t say more. The pain is too great. I have to put him through to my soul and let it finish for me. Its voice is deep and inaudible, like Barry White speaking under water. I hardly understand it myself, but it sounds something like: “…pleashe helph me.”

This is getting interesting. My soul is counting on good old Llama Face.

I’m almost lying on the hallway floor now, spreading my dirty sins on their white tiles. Take a good look at them, dear pastor. Take a good look at the filthy mess. Take it all and burn it in hell, or bring it to the cleaners in your beloved heaven.

There is some tiptoeing around the matter—I think I hear them whispering above my head—but finally I can sense that Mr. Good reaches out over my head and closes the door. He then helps me to my feet and leads me into the nearby bathroom. I can barely walk.

Sickreader washes my aching head and swollen face. I try not to look in the mirror, but it whispers to me that I look like the Elephant Man. I can hardly see with my left eye. My nose has doubled its size. Must be broken. As is the tooth next to the front teeth, on my left. Upper lip looks African. Still, most of the bleeding has come from the forehead. There is a cut above my left eye, going all the way up to the hairline.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.