All I want for Easter is-- screw Easter, pass the goddamn Akvavit

[danskannabis]

Who: The Danish Inquisition
When: Saturday Evening, March 19th
Where: Søren and Kai's apartment
What: Easter time draws near, and some very important letters are now a month or greater late. Also, it's time to get “that purple shit” out of someone's hair, and what better time than this to issue a 1-800-brotalk about the boundaries of trust.

Comments

[axkingforit]

"I'm going to beat you with a broken lawn chair if you don't stop shrieking like a clubbed baby seal," Søren retorted sourly, being tasked with both stripping the obnoxious purple from his cousin's hair and practically writing his gækkebrev for him. "Besides, you know that's not how gækkebrev go, idiot. They have to fucking rhyme. Just...use the traditional one for Bedstemor. You know she's nearly blind anyhow."

Søren stared blankly at the bottle of peroxide in his hand and the amount of purple mocking him from Kai's head. Not even nearly enough. Probably.

"You remember how it goes, right? 'En vintergaek, en sommernar, en fugl foruden ringer'...uh...then it's... 'En lille ven, som har dig kær, en kærlig hilsen bringer'. I think. Sounds good anyway, ja? Hurry up and don't forget to put the signature poem too."

This family asked too much of him sometimes. He was ready to demand a salary.

[danskannabis]

"Like fuck if I remember how the gækkebrev goes, I usually write this shit when I'm higher than a kite on Pooh's blustery day," Kai retorted, as though the adventures of a stuffed bear and his pig companion gave any validity or strength to his argument. "I'm pretty sure last year all I did for bedstemor was scribble legit squiggly lines and draw a smiley face, and she loved it

[axkingforit]

"Our favourite time of the day. It is time for SCIENCE, little cousin!" Søren crowed, brandishing a bottle of peroxide from the veritable pile they'd gotten from the store.

...they'd need every last drop to strip the violent purple from Kai's hair to make it "family" appropriate for the Easter reunion.

"Are you ready and prepared and lubed up for quasi-asphyxiation?"

[danskannabis]

"No. But--" He made the effort for the dramatic pause to linger on as long as necessary before continuing, his face crossed with mixed emotion, somewhere on the teetering ledge of hating life and wanting to throw up. "-- I'll do it so mom doesn't shove a stick up my ass and parade me around for all of Århus to see."

And at that he bowed his head forward in shame, in resignation, in acceptance of his fate to lead a mere few weeks of relative normalcy. "To the bathroom, I guess."