Part 8 - Little Man Lost

Christian: Mommy is here. Mommy is here. Nothing bad will happen,

              Mommy is here. Ups. Grandpa is here. Grandpa is here.

              Musn't breath too loudly now Grandpa is here...

Mary:      Hunny-bunny, what's you thinking there, widdle man? Sitting so pretty

              next to Mommy-Poo, holding her hand. You are Mommy's little man.

              Yes, you are. Who needs an attentive husband when I'm the only love

              of the Future King of Denmark!

Henrik:     Mary! Stop shouting!

Mary:       Eh...what? Where am I? Where's the crown? I mean...what's you thinking

               Baby Boy?

Christian:  The dog?

Mary:        What dog, Little Man? Is Ziggy here? I thought I left her tied to your 

                father?

Christian:   The dog in the painting?

Mary:        What painting, Precious One?

Henrik:      The painting your son just unveiled? The whole purpose he and I are 

                here? The only reason we took you with us in the car, after you refused 

                to get up from the road? Remember, you were crying, claiming you were 

                starved for culture?

Mary:         Oh, that painting...Was there a dog on it? Why is your face turning purple,

                 Henry?

Henrik:       Ahhh! Salope! Vous avez le cerveau d'un sandwich au fromage!

Mary:        Well, thank you ever so! You french people just can't let a pretty face 

                pass by, now can you? No, don't stop. I'm flattered. Christian, Darling, 

                move a little so Mommy can play footsie with Grandpa.

Henrik:       Putain de merde!

Mary:        Stop, stop, Henry. Making me blush here...

Christian:   Yes a dog! And and and it touched the little boy with it's disgusting wet 

                nose and then he killed it. First he cut the nose of, then he took the 

                biggest hunting knife and cut its throat so blood poured out. It covered 

                the floor and splattered all over the boy's mother. Giggle.

Mary:        Oh-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. What an imagination My Prince has. Did you hear 

                you grandson, Henry? He is so advanced. In so many, many ways. I take 

                full credit of course. The hours I used drilling waving and smiling and 

                walking into him.

Henrik:       Imbecile.

Mary:         Don't mention it, Hank. Oh, Christian, Mommy's Rock, look at the pretty 

                 little girls dancing! There. There. There. There. Don't you wanna dance 

                 with the sweet little girls?

Christian:    No!

Mary:         But sweet little nougat lump, why not?

Christian:    I hate them. I hate girls. I want to slaughter them. Kill them. 

                Open their stomachs with Daddy's big knife and see if they have 

                the same long grey sausages inside like the deers had!

Mary:         Noooo. You don't hate girls. You love girls. Little boys adore girls. 

                 It is only big girls like Mommy who are allowed to hate other girls.

Christian:    But Daddy hates girls too!

Mary:         Your Daddy does not hate girls...much. What gave you that idea?

Christian:    Daddy said girls ruin everything. When they come into your life, all 

                 that is left is a slow agonizing march towards death. Then he threw 

                 your weddingphoto on the ground and started to cry.

Mary:         Oh-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Daddy was just teasing you, Butterball. Your 

                 Daddy and I are the happiest married couple in the world. In fact 

                 if there ever were a goldmedal for being insanely happy, against

                 all better reason, your father and I would win it. Mommy always 

                 smiles. Daddy always smiles. Now why would we be smiling if we 

                 weren't so gosh darn happy?

Christian:    Bella never smiles?

Mary:         Well, Girl is a special child. Your grandpa John accidentally switched 

                 wires in her head when he modified her hatred towards me. It made 

                 her hug me but unfortunately it also makes her lick glass. But that's

                 just her way of showing she is insanely happy too.

Christian:    So when you smile, you are happy?

Mary:         Absolutely, Babyface. Lets smile to your grandpa and make him smile 

                 back. Makes a great photo up. Smile! Oy, Henry? Henry? Henrik? 

                 Where's he going?

Part 7 - "Christmas - Or Tale of Two Cities"

Schackenborg, Sønderjylland December the 24th 2010

Joachim:   The first thing I learned as a child was, don't feel sorry for yourself!
               They sat me down on the cold floor as a baby and when I started 
               to cry, they all laughed and laughed. It taught me a valuable lesson.
               We are on A and B - teams by the way. Frederik and Mor are the 
               A-team, meaning their words is our law and they are Mini-Gods in 
               our Olympia, the predators in our jungle, ...well you get my drift.
               I belong to the B-team together with my father and I was always 
               fine with this. My father had a few problems with his status but 
               let us not step through that French daisy field of exploding 
               landmines. Hear no evil, see no evil. Being on the B-team means 
               that if things go hay-wire we take the fall. I have always known 
               this and am fine with it.

               Then I married Alex and had two sons. Nikolai and Felix made me 
               question what I always took for granted; the idea that I was 
               second best. When two pairs of eyes look at you like you are 
               the beginning and the end to them, it is uncomfortable to crawl 
               into the role the family carved out for you as a spare. Why should 
               I be a second class citizen in our universe? Why should I let my 
               boys be the punchingbag to Frederik's horrid gargoyles?
             
               Look at little Henrik as he tries to walk. His little cupid face and 
               giraffe eyes looking up at you. Could I sacrifice this unspoiled child 
               on the family's altar and see him turn cynical and somber as he
               slowly realizes his position in life? Like Nikolai is beginning to. 
               He knows too much already now. Will he respect me in the future 
               or will he get his mother's eyes when she realized I had chosen 
               the part as scapegoat over my family?

Marie:      I am finally in a perfectly happy family. Ever since my mama and 
              papa were divorced I have missed having a family and now I have it. 
              A huge, happy, uncomplicated family. Just look at them, Joachim 
              with his worrylines. Mother in law smiling blissfully. Henrik Sr. playing 
              hide and go seek with the boys. I love my boys. Of course...
              if Frederik, Mary and the petit enfants had been here, it might not 
              have so peaceful. I don't know why, but whenever Mary's in the 
              room I feel this numbing cramp between my shoulderblades. I also 
              get a cramp in my jaw from smiling when she never smiles back. 
              I guess it is my fault all along. After all everyone else seems to love 
              her. Especially the media. Well, oh la la. We might be bosom friends 
              one day and wont I feel silly then thinking like this!

Margrethe: I guess death could be postponed a few days? It is pretty here, 
               at the end of the world. Though the countryside is as flat as 
               a pancake, it is picturesque. The frozen grass straws thaw slowly, 
               warmed by the frail winter sun, reflecting its light in the tiny melting 
               drops. It is said that when mist floats alongside the surface of the 
               fields, Mosekonen, the woman of the bog, is brewing in her big black 
               pot. She is an ugly woman with foul manners but still manages 
               to lure pretty young men to her bed. 

               I wonder what Mary is up to right now? Probably worshiping a brown 
               stick devoid of any color or religious symbols. I should never have 
               allowed a pietist in the family. My bad.

Henrik Sr:   This jungle is fascinating to explore if only the pygmees weren't so 
                darn cheeky. There they are again! Three of them. Away with you 
                tiny beasts, I fear you not! You will not have my jug of wine. 
                I made this myself. It is the nectar of the gods, the true milk of 
                human kindness. To prove it you can take a sip. Only we royals 
                can drink it. To everyone else the taste turn to vinegar in your 
                mouth.
           
Henrik Jr.    Grand-pa! Don't run away! (Giggles)

Felix:         I love Schackenborg. I love chasing the ghost of Count Schack 
                most of all. He runs from me whenever he sees me, but I'll catch 
                him and throw him out. This castle's mine!

Nikolai:      It's a different Christmas than two years ago. No pale children 
                biting my ankles. No phony armwrestling I'm forced to lose so 
                Christian can build up selfesteem. No firebreathing wildeyed 
               auntie lighting the Christmas candles wiith her mouth. Strange. 
               It's warm and cozy and fun and nice here. Just like home.


Amalienborg, Copenhagen December the 24th, 2010.

John D.:   Aye, the plan to colonize the western hemisphere with pale scottish 
              gnomes are going along nicely. Four seeds planted so far in the 
              european soil and much more to come. And they thought the 
              Scottish nation was beaten! Brew-ha-ha-ha! Eh cough. In twenty 
              years there will be John Donaldson-clones in every royal house and 
              finally the picts will be vindicated! 

Susan:     Where am I? Whom am I? Why does my head go from side to side? 
              Does true love exist? Do I have my thumbs screwed on right? Why 
              do I hear crickets chirping? Why is it that no one understands me 
              but Martha Louise?
                         
Frederik:  It seemed like a good idea at the start. Be your own man. Sever 
             all ties to Joachim and the family and be a Donaldson through and 
             through. But...I thought it would be different somehow. Warmer. 
             Nicer. I wonder what Joachim is doing right now?

Isabella: 3 years and 6 months. That leaves 14 years and 6 months. That will 
            be...5164 days in this beige hell! My tongue feels numb and dry just 
            thinking of that. Water. I need water.

                 
Christian: I asked Santa for a bazooka to kill Grandpa John. It wont miss his 
             belly. Or perhaps I'll fire a rocket up under his kilt? I'll use a big 
             kitchen knife on Daddy's throat just like I saw him do to that rabbit 
             and Susan I'll drown in the bathtub after I've filled it with sugarwater. 
                          
             Isabella? Hm. I'm still considering...I always wanted to see what color 
             her blood was, red or blue, but perhaps I should keep her alive 
             to take the blame for me...that is, the only one in the world who 
             could stop me is my grandmother and she would never take sides 
             against her own family, no matter who we kill. 
                          
             Mommy? I thought I would let her live but lately she acts like she 
             has the right to bully me, so I'll cut off her head with an axe, if 
             I can find one. Oh, there's a beige colored gift with my name on it. 
             It says: From Mommy to Christian with love. An machete! 
             Thank you Santa! I'll take out Mommy first. And to all a good night!

Mary:     I am now nine months pregnant and my stomach is huge! It's the size 
            of a tennis ball! Take that jealous bitches bullying me on the internet!
            I just finished dancing my usual reindeer poll dance, antlers and all,
            wrapping my legs 'round the high tech stainless steel chrissietree and 
            everyone loved it. Daddy let me sit on his lap while I unwrapped his 
            special pressie for me, a new pair of fishnet tights. He called me his 
            little bit on the side and Susan laughed and laughed until we had 
            to put a bag over her head.
                          
            I finally had to take Frederik's cell phone from him, since he kept 
            trying to call Joachim. I mean, how pathetic is that? You should think 
            they were twins or some-ink. He has me! What possible relationship 
            could he have with Joachim? They've been together over fourty years, 
            enough already! What's there left to talk about? I mean, I only speak 
            to my siblings a few seconds, before they hand the phone to someone 
            else. That's normal. The other thing's just sick! 

            Daddy? Can Mary-wary sit on your wap again? Why is Susan pulling 
            him away from me? Daddy? Daddy!

Part 6 - Going Yachting

No. Just give her to me. Give her to me, I said! No, sorry boys, she can't stay. 
Even Swedes have a limit on hospitality.

God, how can a skinny broad be this heavy. We might have to bring the jaws 
of life. Heave-ho! Heave-ho!

Daniel:   Giggle. Han sager "ho" Vicky-lilla! 

Victoria: Daniel! She'll hear you!

Willem:   Ehem...strange. Her skin is cold but sweaty. My fingers are tingling 
            and starting to itch. Is that scales? Help! Her skin is leaching on to 
            my hand. I can't get free. Somebody? Anybody? Haakon?

Daniel:   Heard the same happened to Frederik's chest. 
            Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha...eh, cough. 

Victoria: Try to remember for once that you are among royals! Not your 
            peasant friends at the gym. Hell, you are with me, now lower your 
            voice!

Daniel:   Awww. Is Vicky sour. Vicky needs a puss. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.

Victoria: Just you wait till I get you home in the doghouse. Now how long 
            to get Bloody Mary here onto the shore?

Haakon: If I stand still without moving, without blinking she might not notice 
            me. She might think I'm a servant and ignore me.

Mary:    Oy! Haakon! I see you mate, can't escape your destiny. I'm omnipo...
            omnipo...I'm everywhere! Oh! Oh, yes, thank you, that hit the spot. 
            Me drunk? Slnot at all...Just had a few dozen glasses of champagne...
            and a shot of vodka too. Now I'm in Russia it would be rude to say no! 
            What's that? We're in Sweden? But then we have to have snaps...
            and krebs...and snaps! it would be rude to say no and I don't want 
            the bitches on that internet forum to accuse me of bad manners. Burp.

Victoria:  She's going back! No, someone stop her! Don't let her return to 
             the boat. Ahem, I mean...goodnight Mary!

Mary:     Funny I seem to be moving my feet but not going anywhere? 
             Whoa, the sea is rough tonight. No, I would love a hand. In fact 
             I would love several hands. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Ahhh. To be handled again. 
              
             Oy? What do you think you are doing with that mitten, mate? 
             Playing airguitar with my breast? No, I'm not complaining, do it again! 
             It's raining men, hallelujah! Wait a minute! I was with my mates. 
             Vicks? Danny? Willy? Haaky? Where did they go?