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?
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