[ WP ] You have a wonderful Grandpa but he is dying and doctors give him three months top.He ask you a favor as his last wish and admit he is the Hannibel Lecter.Btw you are a serial killer.No killing in the story .

`` No, grandad. Do n't die. Please, I'm begging you,'' I said to myself as I looked through the serial killer dating network. I think my pits smell a little. Maybe I should shave before going on that date with Mister Pool. 
 
 `` Cherry. Cherry, come closer,'' my Grandpa gestured at me with a come-hither finger gesture. It was kinda creepy. Super creepy. I do n't think I ever want to have sex again because of that. Congrats grand-pa. I'm going to be a nun for life. 
 
 Serial killing nun, huh. That'd pay well, actually. 
 
 `` Gross,'' I reply and continue fiddling and a diddling on my phone. 
 
 `` Cherry. Hey, Cherry, I need you to do a favor for me,'' Grandpa said to me as he moistened his age-old lips and sucked out of a meat-juice and pumpkin-spice jug with all the strength and vigor of an eighteen-year old white girl. 
 
 I cringed with all the inner turmoil that can be bestowed upon a four-hundred year old ninja-assassin from the mystical land of NorthWesternEastern Korea. I've entered the service of his majesty Kim Jong Illest about four fortnights ago, and frankly the pay's bloody terrible. 
 
 You know I ca n't even kill people? I'm just supposed to intimidate people and follow them around like a serial killer doing nothing but `` being a really cool badass.'' That's stupid. Real stupid. What kinda serial killer does n't kill people. I do n't think that fat ass emperor-god-king-princess or whatever's actually read a decent crime novel. 
 
 You'd think that a 24/7 connected world would let people have access to some decent Kazachkstanian torrent site, but noooooo. Fucking ingrates. 
 
 `` Cherry. Cherry. My favor. I need you to do something,'' said Grandpa. 
 
 `` What is it, you old flipping cunt, mate?'' I replied as kind and considerately as a sweet girl from Arkansas could. 
 
 `` I'm Hannibel Lecter.'' 
 
 `` You mean, Hannibal Lecter?'' I replied. 
 
 `` No,'' said Grandpa. `` Hannibel Lecter.'' 
 
 I stared at him. I stared at him, realizing that this idiot sitting in my house on the toilet is the person I have to look after until he dies. I'd kill him, but apparently I ca n't for some stupid reason. 
 
 I briefly consider murdering myself with a shard of glass, some scotch, some ice cream, some scotch, a toothpick, and maybe some more scotch. But, I digress. At least Grandpa Hannibel's giving me a good inheritance one he's kicked the bucket. 
 
 `` Oh, Cherry,'' Grandpa groans as he unloads a fresh pile on the porcelain throne that all the men of Westeros had fought over since the seven years of irritable bowel syndrome that had plagued the land. 
 
 `` U wot, u feckin' tosser?'' I reply like a good little Granddaughter should. 
 
 `` I'm broke, Cherry. You're not getting an inheritance. Also, I'm not your Grandpa. Your other Grandpa divorced your Grandmother and I'm just her long-term sub. This has been a wonderful roleplaying experience, mind you, and I really appreciate the love and care you all have shown for me for the past few thirty some years.'' 
 
 `` I'm four-hundred years old, Grandpa Weirdo.'' 
 
 He stares at me and watches up as the carbonite chamber surrounds him, trapping him on the porcelain throne. As he walls go up and separate the weirdo from me, he only smiles and says the line. 
 
 `` I know. I know everything, Mister Anderson.'' 
 
 I blink, `` Is that Star Wars?'' 
 
 `` Lord of the Rings, you fucking mudblood.'' 
 
 And now he's frozen. Not dead. But frozen. 
 
 I think that horrible experience just aged me thirty years. Welp, time to go drinking, I guess.
