Finsterworld Page #5

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- Ah well, never mind.

- Forget it.

Did you know that of all people, it's

the Germans who spend most on travel?

Because it's so ugly here.

Crowded with impolite... rude people.

Bombed out city centers

smothered with concrete.

Stuttgart or Berlin.

Stuttgart is so ugly, nobody would

notice if it were completely torn down.

And when you're abroad,

you're ashamed to be German.

- You don't identify with this country.

- Interesting that you would say that.

There are no role models in Germany.

No cartoon characters like Mickey Mouse.

Something everyone identifies with,

everyone knows,

- even abroad.

- I can't think of anything just now.

- Fix and Foxi are German, aren't they?

- Yes, but nobody knows them.

The only really

famous German character is

Adolf Hitler

Dot, dot, comma, dash, Hitler moustache,

and instant recognition

- the world over.

- Interesting theory.

Yeah, but there's another problem:

the German flag.

- God, yes. It is so incredibly ugly.

- Gruesome!

An aesthetic catastrophe.

Black and red is okay, but the yellow.

- Exactly. And I believe that's

intentional. - Ah?

Well, in the Third Reich,

everyone looked quite smart and sharp.

Talking about design here, of course.

The uniforms, for example,

they were extremely well cut.

And the flag wasn't too bad either.

- Don't know about that.

- No, no, he's right.

And for such a thing

to never happen again in Germany,

everything had to be made

super repulsive. Really ugly.

Nothing was supposed to look good

any longer. Not even the flag.

That's why nobody identifies

with this country.

Only with perfect German technologies:

with poison gas,

fast cars that are so safe that

you can survive a head-on collision

at 200 km an hour.

The gentrified houses with

glass elevators to transport people

to their roof maisonettes.

The recycling system that

transports our trash to Africa.

It is the very language

that is used in the research and

development departments of Mercedes.

Otis, Otis, Otis!

And this is why millions of Jews

were murdered in the first place.

Nobody talks about that any longer.

Nor God.

He too doesn't exist any more.

Yes.

I wish there were a God.

Tom?

Come here!

I'm sorry.

Tom?

Is that you?

Tom, now stop it. Say something.

Tom, please don't scare me.

Are you in there?

Tom?

Oh my God!

Please don't hurt me! Please!

It's me, Tom.

- This was what I was trying to tell you

the whole time. - No!

- I like putting this on sometimes.

- What do you mean? At home?

Yeah, and outside, with others.

- What?

- I hoped so much that would also...

I can't Tom, I just can't. Please stop.

- It's harmless. Just feel how soft

it is. - I don't want to touch it!

- Go away!

- It's really soft, completely harmless.

- It's harmless.

- Get out! I don't want to touch you.

Franziska, just feel it.

Out!

Franziska, I didn't mean to hurt you.

Natalie.

Calm down.

Don't touch me!

What are you doing?

Natalie...

Don't touch her.

Excuse me.

Did you say Sandberg

on the phone just now?

Sandberg.

Do you know someone

called Maximilian Sandberg?

How come...?

That's our son.

You don't particularly like my son,

do you?

A spoiled brat.

Become a vegetarian, perhaps...

Pardon?

Graffiti instead of sports.

Or torch ATMs.

Go to California.

Apologize to someone.

Yes.

Don't fall asleep with your eyes open.

No.

Now I know.

Natalie.

Thank you.

I always thought of Nickel

as a decent guy.

He was a good teacher.

Didn't you ever ask yourself why

you only got As in his class?

Because I was good.

Good?

If you ask me,

you were always rather insolent.

Older men like that,

it drives them crazy.

I just can't believe it.

You have to believe it, though.

You don't have to be afraid anymore.

And Nickel... he's all alone now.

And you're not.

- Is this the room of Maria Sandberg?

- Yes.

Well, this used to be her room.

And who are you, if I may ask?

- I'm her son.

- Right.

I didn't know she had relatives.

Well...

this... used to be her room.

What do you mean, used to be?

It's a little awkward

that you don't know, but...

she's no longer with us.

Well... she'll be missed.

Perhaps you'd like to take her things,

if you're her son, I mean.

I...

- What, Inga?

- Darling, I'm so sorry.

- I'm too late.

- I'm...

Too late.

My parents, how very touching.

Well, pap?

Everything is going to be okay, Dad.

You two are such a pair of bigots.

- You didn't give a sh*t about

the old hag. - Excuse me?

- Like you don't give a sh*t about me.

- Maximilian, go wait outside.

Have you ever hugged me?

Can you please leave?

I can't remember a single day

when you cooked something for me.

Others can say:
this tastes like home,

and I have no f***ing clue

- what home tastes like.

- Alright. Out.

Jesus.

You're a pathetic excuse for a mother.

Hi, Claude.

Wouldn't it be much better,

if there were no people on the planet?

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