At Home with the Fritzls

Her: Josef, you’ve been spending a lot of time in the basement.
Him: I told you, I only go down there to think about how much I love you.
Her: Wow, you must love me a lot. It’s just that, I’ve been hearing noises.
Him: That’s mice.
Her: Sounds bigger than mice.
Him: I also have a pet monkey.
Her: You have a monkey in the basement?
Him: Yes.

Her: Can I see it?
Him: Out of the question.
Her: Why?
Him: He has rabies.
Her: Isn’t that dangerous?
Him: I imagine it would be. Which is to say, yes, it is.

Her: Ok, but the noises sound like voices.
Him: The monkey sometimes turns on the radio. And I have a parrot too, I think.
Her: You think you have a parrot?
Him: Ok then, no. Just the first thing. The monkey turns on the radio.
Her: No parrot?
Him: No, just a monkey.
Her: Why did you say you had a parrot then?
Him: I was thinking of the monkey. It came out wrong.

Her: Well, is all the food for the monkey? You take sacks full down.
Him: I eat it.
Her: All of it?
Him: Yes.
Her: But you put on no weight?
Him: I eat it and then throw up later.
Her: So you’re bulimic?
Him: Apparently.
Her: That’s terrible. Why did you never tell me?
Him: It’s literally hard to say.

Her: But what about all the furniture? You’ve brought down tables, chairs…
Him: Furniture? You’re crazy.
Her: I’m sure you have. And a cooker, a fridge, a sink. A whole kitchen really.
Him: Ok psycho, if you say so.
Her: And a toilet, and a shower.
Him: Cuckoo, Cuckoo.

Her: I’m just trying to understand…
Him: Ok, I’ll come clean. I’ve enslaved our daughter and a bunch of kids down there.
Her: Now you’re making fun of me.
Him: Jesus woman, what do you want from me?
Her: The truth.
Him: You want the truth?
Her: Yes, and don’t tell me I can’t handle the truth.
Him: I don’t get the reference. This is 1991, and A Few Good Men won’t be out for another year.
Her: What?
Him: What?

Her: You were about to tell me the truth?
Him: Fine. Truth is…truth is, I’m dying Rosemarie.
Her: Oh my God, are you Ok?
Him: What are you deaf? No I’m not Ok, I’m dying.
Her: Dying of what?
Him: A very rare disease.
Her: What has this got to do with the basement?
Him: You see…the disease, it…it…ah to hell with this. STAY OUT OF THAT BASEMENT WOMAN, OR SO HELP ME, I’LL TEAR YOU A NEW ARSE.

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Rant by is licensed under a Creative Commons License. Copyright © 2009 Flann O'Coonassa