Killing Auntie Read Online Free

said calmly. “May I speak to Andrzej, please?”
    When told “Wrong number,” I apologized and thanked the woman sincerely.
    Back on the street I was hit by sharp wind. I thought of my flat and happily turned toward home. Home sweet home. When at last I reached home, still dressed, in my coat and hat, I looked into the kitchen.
    Auntie had not changed, except for the blood around her and on her face, which had dried into a blackish, brown scab. I took my coat off and, smoking a cigarette, I began to devise a plan of action. Without question, I had to remove the corpse from the kitchen and make some lunch. The gas was weak so I decided to light a fire under the kitchen stove and cook myself a proper meal. In the sideboard I found a couple of red cutlets, bread, frankfurters, butter, eggs and potatoes in a basket. There was also tea and even a bottle of Hungarian wine, which Auntie must have hidden there for some special occasion.
    I started peeling the potatoes. I was no good at it. Until now I hardly ever peeled potatoes. Auntie always prepared our meals and I helped only when my manly strength or my manly height was called for. By the second potato I cut my finger. The wound was not big but deep and bled profusely. Clumsily pulling up the shirtsleeve with my other, healthy but dirty hand, I ran to the sink. The tiny wound hit by a stream of cold water began to smart. I put my finger into my mouth and sucked it. The pain abated but every time I took the finger out of my mouth, the pale, barely visible slit began to fill with scarlet blood. I went to the cupboard with the first aid kit and rummaged through it, finding some gauze, bandages and iodine. There was no other disinfectant. It took me a long time before I managed to dress my wound and tie a nice tight knot on the finger.
    I sat at the kitchen table miserable and worn out, nursing my wounded finger in my fist. Hunger and cigarettes pressed on my brain like a heavy gray substance. I had no strength left to finish peeling the potatoes. I’d have frankfurters with scrambled eggs and bread. Absentmindedly I dragged myself to the sideboard to fetch a saucepan. Suddenly something tripped me up. I struggled to keep my balance and, desperately clutching at anything, I banged my head right against the edge of the sideboard.
    â€œFuck!” I cursed, loudly and angrily.
    The object that tripped me up was Auntie’s corpse. Overwhelming pain paralyzed me briefly. Yet hungry and exhausted, I found in me new layers of strength. I was able to refrain from ignobly taking it out on the inanimate object that had caused me pain. The cause of my frustration had to be pacified so that in the future similar accidents could be avoided. I went about it with blunt angry assiduousness. I wrapped my hands under Auntie’s shoulders and lifted her. She was very heavy. As I pulled her along I smelled an unpleasant odor coming out of her open mouth. I turned my face away. Suddenly I felt the body putting up an insurmountable resistance. I pulled with all my strength but it would not budge. It turned out Auntie’s foot was hooked around one of the sideboard’s legs. I had to lay her down and unhook the damn foot. I tried a different hold. I grabbed her by the wrists and began pulling her across the floor. This was not easy either. The hands were stiff, unwieldy and difficult to steer with. Still, I managed to gain some ground. After a while her head hit the threshold. The first part of the job was behind us. Now I raised the head, then the shoulders, and pulled them over the threshold.
    The hallway was narrow and cluttered. The bathroom door was hung in such a way that the body had to be turned around 180 degrees. This required a well thought-out plan and precise execution. First thing to do was remove all possible objects that stood in the way of the body. So I took down the bowl from the small chest standing by the wall, then the box full of wool, and put them