Bengtelin allowed the farm to dilapidate. Dilapitate is a good word that I have found on the Internet. There are many good Internet services. Like spam. I don’t like spam. But since I am not a vegetarian I’ll eat it if it is served. He said it would be all right. He would instead of farming start manufacturing great fireworks that he would sell on the town square. Or on the carpark outside the Police Station.He said that the Godless of Fortnum – he ment the Godess of Fortune – smiled towards him and showed him mercy. He said that she would give him happiness in many many months.
”If that is the case”, his father said,” then we will be forced to shoot her and then kill, slaughter and butcher her. And then we will have to eat her my son, since we will have a shortage of food in this house, my beloved son, if you continue to lazy about in this way”.
For they speak in this way on the farms outside of Maersta. At least they did there and then.
And the father of Rune Bengthelin cried. He cried 27 litres full of tears. That is a lot even for those who are not familiar with the metric system. Think of it as a lot. And then add a little more. The father then looked up, wiped his tears, and cried another 14 litres. It was so much that they could have bottled the tears and sold them as a potion for mental healing. But alas, they did not think that far.
This may seem a bit humorous to those not present, but believe me it was not in any way humorous. This is a tragedy, not a burlesque farce.
[bloggar] humor, humour, satir, satire, märsta, tomas ahlbeck [/bloggar]