As may be expected given the legion of articles, essays, and doctoral theses about the age and origin of Kimblagarr, it may be considered one of the most remarkable farts from the spring of ancient literature.
now I would like to have a soft-boiled egg one egg or two then raw I would drill a micro-thin hole in the shell and with my nail burst the yolk and suck it gently from within a man is always surprising himself get yourself a soft-boiled egg the miser says I say nothing hesitation hand you the pleasure bag what, do think you I will fatten myself on eggs by mid-morning the day has halfway stretched its claws under the divan and pilfered the eggs from the pleasure bag all these sanctions cussing make you ill do you see Títa how he struggles into the air and itches and coughs now I shall waste I will whip you and limit your egg rations because of the insistence on fattening you will have no hen eggs get yourself a chicken to drill the remaining eggs see to the paltry laying you blow out the egg drink it I’ve never seen such a big scoundrel you do not let the girl play her ballgame in peace
bima bimbam bimbirimbi rimbam
who is beating out a bimbirimbirimbam
it is Tómmas bimbirimbirimbam
when will he discover bimbirimbirimbam
his lovable strumpet
bimbirimbirimbam
let them go in peace
bimbirimbirimbam
you are planning to rush out into the corridor and tell the girl to come here with the ball game my goodness I am going to give you one small square of good Lillu chocolateyou are damned desperate todayI will have to tie you down if you carry on these giant exertions with your nail
dad I want eggs
oh! how the cabin-runt quiets
dad mom I want honey and eggs
Clear off. I do not want you on me.
oarlock is a stumpthe girls have not long been playing the ball game before they all decide to head inside kicking and struggling do you hear them
a little hand stretches abruptly upward and a red ball slips from the palm and slams into the walla yellow ball rising meets a red ball dropping from a stretched hand with fingers in a claw-shaped grasp a red ball swings from an arm thrown behind a back sent almost simultaneously up a green ball a yellow and a green ball whipped remains in the air a yellow ball touches the wall gomp swings from it in an arc meets the green ball rising it is mid-drop rejected by the palm gump as soon as the green ball hits the wall gomp the red ball flies up the yellow sitting still between the fingers the yellow ball must be sent on its speeding journey from the wall gomp and heads on a downward arc the red ball heads into it at violent speed ah zah and the balls kissing wah! in the air gump a low crash and balls scattered on the floor wah-wah always the violent excitement of the ball gamethree balls: yellow, red, green. Three balls jumping gump-gump—gump-on-the-floor. The red ball kisses the yellow ricochets wah-wah swirls around it and the yellow ball pushes the green ball under the radiator bouncing after him and they lie there side by side gump-gump hiding, kissing, and lying stricken by panic, done in.however much you rage you will not get to look through the keyhole until the long extinct volcano Keilir spews again are these perhaps your death spasms the small animation before a demise lava pours down the hills thickly and piles up on a grass-patch beneath the mountainNo, Sigurður I do not believe that he is a widower. He is no more a widower than I am, he is just like all the pensioner-dinersto hear the hullabaloo mocking and moaning in the stones little or less can be heard hahaha lie calmyou little ten-year-old boydo you want to get mixed up in an arrest with the police do you want the house scandalized again so you shall never dare from now on to look into the eyes of any man cut off from work from a conscience that threatens you in your sleep terrible dreams from the pages of a newspaper
Immoral Conduct with Young Girl
Last night a man in his nineties was found guilty of indecent behavior with a ten-year-old girl. It does not appear to have been a direct attempt at sexual relations, and the little girl was absolutely okay except for nosebleeds and a nervous breakdown and talking in a foreign language. She was taken for medical tests. Her attacker has never been found guilty of similar conduct. The case is still under investigation.
do you want Miss Gerður to turn her big eyes to you and say although this is a moral offense these little girls are idiots around old men they do not blab now that makes me angry with you I will slap and torture you yes I will pinch your head Títa scratch at your collar do you want a full reminder I will stab you with a needle tip owowow unfortunately he felt that painful I stabbed you Títa unexpectedly in the eye now it bleeds do you have this the scraping finally Títa collapses down wretched and weak a sense of decency hides inside youa wish I want of which even Sigurður might be ashamedif everyone looked like you in this would the world look differently out from the newspapers no have you returned come to prowl a greater shame stay put a while I’ll call you hottentot how they behave shame does not exist for heathen hottentots not among the blacktail brown and curved and with a black eye on top of everything else I gave my friend a black eye which worsens the girls’ unseemly play they say you are not kind ughugh just scream ughpish in a virgin choir in the laundry room when you gape like a fire hose at the younger and more elegant but now you want to fumble along into the laundry room behind the rope to peek at the underwear and I will show you girls come see how to spank an unruly boy indeed he’s going to bite you all ohwoewoewoe do not let him bite my fingers not a hard bite just you try well he always bites stops to let bite owoewoewoe I’ll let her mother know this you damned Tómas what the hell have you done to the child bit me jeez jeez almighty in the navel gas furies no you dare not bite back near the lair a careful search finds the dregs of a sense of decency in you jeez a jeremías in Jesus’s name
I lie with my ear fixed to the bottom of a glass my arm gone stiff holding it still upside down on the wall severe neck pain I cannot endlessly lie on my back on the divan and listen to the man lecture it is not enough to loiter all day fascinated by the disjointed mutterings of old age
everyday you sleep in but wake on Sundays, when the girls band together in the hallway. I am not unaware how they play their daily ball games while you sleep soundly and dream like any good impressionist about L’après midi d’un faune Sundays and virgins swarm and disorder in the hallway with colorful balls. Youth passes in ballgames: First with one, two, three, and four. Well, your childhood is a little distant. You never long to become one of them, you who have never passed joyful days these sixty years, you who have hung at me with your charm, irritated and troubled, because often I irritated you with rash thoughts, chatted with you in confidence and said: chérie, you are my most intimate friend. Teasing is never uncomplicated. I am lighthearted but have a heavy-hearted element. I have a myopic prick.
I take back the implement box, cover it with my fingers, mentally afraid of the jets of water. I slip into my jacket, sticking the box tightly under my arm after having wrapped it in a towel. The towel I take with me after using it and dry it on the oven. I do not care to have my towel hang in with their towels. People tend to dry their bodies with my towel. I am not paying for their laundry. Isn’t that right, o my penis, o john thomas. Sometimes we get a bit over-excited, don’t we? I will never treat you as badly as you do me—do to yourself, notably. Destructive impulses govern you. I am your husband. Your Pope. You strive to topple me from my chair; I have no option but to issue you a passport, exile you like some tainted substance. I am to you as Tryggvi to me. Pour out the bottle—do so wordlessly. I get true pleasure from admitting the theft and possession of your personal freedom. I get true pleasure from knowing you are being oppressed. My underling. I am honored to know you have a complete right to strike. My unique pleasure lies in suppressing the freedom of movement in your chest. In this we find the impressive image of equal rights. Inside you lives the right to revolt; inside me lives the power to quash it. A unanimously approved equality. Fart. My power over you is your profit. You cannot look after yourself without
my assistance. I cannot make water without you. Herein reigns the spirit of symbiosis. Consider yourself able to live independently, a self-governing state with its own economy. Yes, yes, I know you have your book in the bank. But Títa would eat you. It never occurred to you how often you had engaged in foreign affairs out of pure ignorance, checking your advice on foreign policy without my intervention. Certainly I do not interfere in your private matters, your whims, your inventions, though I pour them in the toilet and sometimes outside the house corner. I follow approved methods of market forces. I said to you immediately, and you had the sense to understand: First a roof over your head, then intercourse. Your policy was, however, a total human fantasy: first intercourse, then a roof, if necessary. Your paths of thought follow the masses: rushing blindly into the unknown without regard for any element except your own desire. You would have immediately put yourself in the company of directionless men, perhaps in dissolute company in more than one case. I am a social being; the justification of all seducers.You are afraid of being orphaned from the company of womankind, says the Qur’an, so marry all the women you like, two or three, or four, but no more.The state here has another law, my god. I know my Sword well, that he would have broken the limit given in Muhammad’s law-book. To me, you are a source of shame and fun. Were you in someone else’s keeping, you could have landed up with Muhammad, and would by now have become a fleck of windblown sand in the deserts of Arabia, or a hen on Sólheimasandur, which Sigurður stole from the chicken farm at Fljótshlíð and threw out the window of the bus, “just because; a prank,” during the employees’ association awayday. Had you landed up with Tryggvi you’d be at this very moment changing wine into water. It would be your one wedding-night miracle. To think this imp should have landed here with me. Change your dwelling. I’ll tell you about your service for the days to come. I’m the real deal. I see the devil in your eyes; you are planning something evil. Go to King Faruk of Egypt, enlist in his service; or Shasta of Persia, he is planning to beat you with his hands or maybe has nothing against having two of you; he does not have much of a prick. Much that is small achieves some big thing. Take the full travel allowance in each country. Here is your passport, you treasonous traitor. Your indulgence.
Vegabréf
PasseportPassportPass
Ísland
IcelandIslandeIsland
Valid for all countries except the Soviet Union and its affiliates
Nr. 1/1967
Fullt nafn vegabréfshafa
Full name of the bearer
Casanova Tómasson, Jón Tómas
Nom du porteur
Voller Name des Inhabers
Þjóðerni
Icelandic, Islandais
Nationalité
Staða
leikfang
Profession
playboytoy
Stellung
Birthplace
-day and –year
Iceland
Born at on
15. 3. 1887
Né(e) à le
Geboren in am
Heimili
Residence
Reykjavík, Iceland
Domicile
Wohnort
Tunga
Íslenksa
Language
Icelandic
Langue
Islandais
Sprache
Isländich
Hæð
Height
18 cm
Taille
Gestalt
Háralitur
grár
Hair
gray
Cheveau
gris
Haare
grau
Augnalitur
rauður
Eyes
red
Yeux
rouge
Augen
rot
Vegabréfið gildir til
This passport expires on
2. 3. 1970
Ce passeport expire le
Dieser Pass ist gültig bis zum
Útgefið
Reykjavík, date 2. 3. 1967
Issued at
other
Délivré a
Lögreglustjórinn
The chief of Police
Tómas Jónsson
Le chef de Police
Der Chef des Polizeiamtes
Gjald:
Fee:
Kr. 250,—
Droits:
Gebühr:
Now choose or reject. This my ultimatum. Surrender. That is not the way. I have written the poison out of you. I do not simply write you out of a sense of duty then stick the paper in consecrated earth. Or dress your wounds with gray strings, like when a man writes away his warts. Hear that. Hereon in there’s no reward for you. In the next life—you will not become the mother of five children in a poor neighborhood god knows where—you will get to stretch out under the palm trees and turn mild, longing eyes to Mecca; your desires will not concern me. You will not return to my service. And if you accept the passport it does not mean returning home to your father’s house once it expires. You are declaring yourself a global citizen or else nationless or else a political refugee. If you prefer to stay here with me you’ll still receive food and shelter, no service required, but you must obey my advice in every respect. You will betray yourself in the forthcoming afterlife; you will be granted such benefits; you will dance and carouse. I reckon you will have difficulty finding a woman as companion.
Now I am going out and will not listen to your whining anymore. It is almost twelve.
there’s no benefit to torturing him further says Katrín
he has nine lives like the cat Títa
You’ve set off for barely 80 years, according to the issued passport. Little notice should be taken of that document. You are in your nineties, whatever the documents say. You have reached retirement
Starf:
Á eftirlaunum
Profession:
Retired
So.
i. Sinn und Ursprung der Yngli, Halle 1875.
ii. Das Kimblagarrproblem, Deutsche Vierteljahrschrift für Literaturvissenschaft und Geistesgeschichte, IV (1930), pages 223-645.
8.
I have a deep affection for Títa. Títa is the warmth in my garden. Títa is my warmth. And Títa is attached to me. This proves that Títa has many good nerves not to be found on the exterior of her body from head all the way to tail. I’m only joking, Títa. So long as Títa can lure someone in she will not be a loner. She is nevertheless eccentric and idiosyncratic. And she gets worked up and savagely rages for periods. She moans a magical, intense cry to lay claim to a home. She shows me her jaw, her claws, her red, thin, but rather short tongue; I’m going to grab it and stick it inside myself. She trots over to me. She looks suspiciously at me with yellow eyes. That’s Títa: suspicious and cautious. You see, Títa suspects me of hiding something.
good morning Ásmundur.
yes good morning
i am utterly disturbed am ill-disposed to the letter þ “thorn”it resembles me in the mirror of the bathroomTíta is being thornyhere comes the little piss-soaked repulsive lord Flotteroy and he hands me a gnawed doll soiled with slobberI suspect this brat is never washedno that was StínaStína was always pisswet. One winter day one of the girls crept out the basement onto the stairs. She sat there, captivated by the trash cans and the rats until her pants froze to her and the steps. A boy tried to force her butt up with a crowbar, because she couldn’t get free. A medical examination revealed that the end of her colon had frozen. She died as a result. (an excerpt from the incomplete biography of Stína Sveinsdóttur which will undoubtedly be widely read by women; it concerns a girl who died because her father’s patriarchy caused her colon to freeze and that led to her death.) The death announcement appeared on television and in newspapers, the obituary of a beloved daughter who was suddenly called away like a sunbeam. In the basement the beam was never to be seen playi
ng around a half-naked child, just a downpour. Had Títa fed from her she would have licked Stína, but Katrín swung her in the crib then took a taxi down to Hotel Borg, having first pulled a herring net tight over the cradle so she could not get out get into the matches.
Tómas Jónsson, Bestseller Page 18