Dag

He didn't soil his pants, did he?

Fuck!

- Did you try to wake him? - I'm trying since 7AM.

Where are you going?

I'll wake this brat once for all.

What is it?

It's May 18th, and you've soiled your pants.

No, that's just vomit.

I vomited into my pants, because I thought it was a bag.

- OK. - Yeah. Needs some cloth, maybe.

- Yes, please. - Yes, please.

- Simultaneously. - Yeah, you owe me a Coke.

- No, you owe me a Coke. - Listen, I've got a cloth here.

Oh, fuck.

- Sorry. - Fuck.

- Shit, I feel bad. - It smells horrible.

May I... Is there a chance for me to take a shower, maybe?

No, right.

- I'll go home, then. - You should do that.

Thanks a lot.

The murderer, the victim, and the victim's victim.

Malin? Is everything OK?

It's just so terribly sad.

- What? - her leg is destroyed.

And he comes riding, and looks so great.

- Isn't this lovely? - No, it's not.

Later, he dumps her and sleeps with someone else.

Rewrite it. You're the author.

I can't do it.

He has a will of his own.

- Trond Espen Seim? - Yes.

It's like he can't help himself. He collects pussy like others collect stamps.

- Trond Espen Seim? - The Rolls Royce of the Norwegian penises.

The Eiffel Tower of crotches. The cabaret of horniness.

- OK. I'm going in now. - He's in there.

- Not Trond Espen Seim? - No, Ernst.

He looked serious.

- Hi. - Hi.

- Am I disturbing? - No.

I don't have an appointment with you? You know that the therapy...? You're done.

Yes, yes.

Fighting fish. Won't let anyone...

I'm just guessing here, but is something bothering you?

You're not quite your usual, diabolic self.

No, I... You have to look after Benedikt.

I got 4 text messages from him last night. All after 5AM.

Nothing wrong with that, but it's happening more and more the last few years.

The last one read: "I'm making a mess. Looking up at a glass table.

No idea who I am. Hohoho. You should've been here.

Soon all will be quiet."

That's not good, but...

Ten minutes later, he leaves me a message. But he's just crying.

It's my fault.

I never wanted to be a dad. I had a vasectomy at 19.

When I met Benedikt, or his mother... You know his father.

He's utterly, fucking useless.

I told myself that there's a tiny little human.

I'll never lie to him.

And that's how it was.

I became the only role model he ever had.

In the beginning, he tried to be like me, so I'd like him.

So he wouldn't be left again.

He was just this tiny, little human.

He could have been anything.

And then he became the worst in me.

Benedikt is hardly the worst in you. Far from it.

If you're going to feel sorry for yourself, then go somewhere else.

Call him, if you're so worried.

Call? He won't listen to me.

I'm everything he hates in himself.

Thanks for your help.

- Hi. - Hi. New?

Just something I picked up.

You didn't have to come. Daddy's here.

Where are you going?

Me? I'm going to have sex. Lots, I hope.

- With whom? - Tom something, from Lillestrom.

Or 2Tom4, as he calls himself online.

- Was there anything else, Benedikt? - Why are you...? I thought...

- What? - Really, Mia.

You can't sleep with strangers you meet online. Nobody does that.

I can't believe you just said that.

I know a little bit about him. More than you usually do.

For one thing, he's not a short, -

- disheveled asshole in a tarp. He's 21, -

- a competitive swimmer. Loves having sex for a long time.

- Mia, please. - Don't.

Perfect.

I changed the lock, by the way.

Mia...

- You're leaving? - Sure.

How did it go in there? He looked a little sad.

Let's talk about it another time. Maybe never.

By the way, I've canceled all appointments, rescheduled them to next week.

- But that's my job. - Yes.

So, what did you tell them?

I said, my secretary disappeared in a perverted Jane Austen world.

Sure, you said that.

You did?

There, you can come out now.

- Thanks. - Thanks a lot.

You smoke? Shit, you can't smoke in here.

The room's on my name.

- Satisfied? - Is something wrong?

Not at all. Why?

I don't know... you just seemed to be a little sore.

- Thanks. - Nice to have met you.

- You're good. - Do you think so? Yeah.

Thanks. So...

- I don't think so. - What do you mean?

It was very nice in several aspects, but that's all.

- We could... - No, we can't.

- Thank you, Tom. Drive carefully. - I ride my bicycle, so...

Take care.

- Crank up the volume. - Yeah.

It's damn good music. Where's the downbeat in this?

- Downbeat? - The downbeat. In the music.

Is it...? One-two-three-one-two...

Heyyy.

- Why did you do that? - It's not the first time I drive people here.

You won't come in there with this bottle.

But I do. I know the management.

Papa, I'm coming home!

- Is this Benedikt? - Yes.

- Is this where the party is? - Are you checking in, -

- or is this a party? - The latter.

Come to papa.

- Look. Want some? - Swedish hooch?

Swedish booze. You start out like this, -

- you're reducing the drug to a drug.

Come on, Benedikt. Pedal the metal.

Rum.

- Jamaica. Cognac. - France.

If we're gonna party, let's do it for real.

- I love geography. Say "stop." - Stop!

- Good choice! Columbia. - Yeah!

Excellent choice.