It's a night like many nights before (not recently though). Harry, Mark, and John are out, as in: not here. But let's pretend we're with them and can listen to what they have to say. That is, if they have, wait: if anybody actually really has to say something anyway.
Was that too much? If so, I'm sorry. So, here's the deal. The boys have just been to a movie, something foreign, subtitled. Not the cool kind, nothing Asian. Something European. Danish!
The scene: post-movie drinks at a shady, basement kindof place. Illegal activities likely to be going on nearby. One of the guys, could've been Harry... but I don't remember, recommended the place. The other two are somewhat pissed off about the place, but since alcohol is mandatory, its source and environment in which it is consumed are secondary at best.
"You guys, you know what?" (stupid question, indeed) Mark asks, while John gulped down what was left of his badly mixed cocktail. He didn't seem to listen and given the circumstances, listening to Mark's forthcoming little speech about ...whatever didn't seem too necessary, or promising, or... anything.
Mark: "I think Danish film, in general, all this not-really-funny-still-you're-supposed-to-laugh-stuff-- is awfully overrated." At this point, realizing his not so high expectations fulfilled John puts down his glass to leave for the men's room, without another word. Harry, in need of a refill, is looking around for the barkeeper who is busy at the other end of the bar.
"Harry! Come on! You know I'm right. After all, the most famous Danish director is now making American movies... with mixed European casts, but still American movies..."
"Dude, I could not care less. What I want now is Dutch beer. Not Danish film."
Was that too much? If so, I'm sorry. So, here's the deal. The boys have just been to a movie, something foreign, subtitled. Not the cool kind, nothing Asian. Something European. Danish!
The scene: post-movie drinks at a shady, basement kindof place. Illegal activities likely to be going on nearby. One of the guys, could've been Harry... but I don't remember, recommended the place. The other two are somewhat pissed off about the place, but since alcohol is mandatory, its source and environment in which it is consumed are secondary at best.
"You guys, you know what?" (stupid question, indeed) Mark asks, while John gulped down what was left of his badly mixed cocktail. He didn't seem to listen and given the circumstances, listening to Mark's forthcoming little speech about ...whatever didn't seem too necessary, or promising, or... anything.
Mark: "I think Danish film, in general, all this not-really-funny-still-you're-supposed-to-laugh-stuff-- is awfully overrated." At this point, realizing his not so high expectations fulfilled John puts down his glass to leave for the men's room, without another word. Harry, in need of a refill, is looking around for the barkeeper who is busy at the other end of the bar.
"Harry! Come on! You know I'm right. After all, the most famous Danish director is now making American movies... with mixed European casts, but still American movies..."
"Dude, I could not care less. What I want now is Dutch beer. Not Danish film."
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