Ciao Bella Page #2

It may hurt, but it's not dangerous.

Can we do it

on some other day than Friday?

Don't you want to have this over with

as quickly as possible?

Maybe you want to

give this some more thought?

She's made up her mind, but that's

when we're going to Gothia Club.

This is an important decision that

Linnea has to make on her own.

-You can party later.

-I've made up my mind. Really.

Okay. Here are the pills.

We'll leave and give Linnea

some privacy.

That's me in the

swimming trunks with skulls.

That's the hotel. You can't see it,

but there's our balcony.

That's the restaurant. On the beach.

Some fat German

stepped in front of the camera.

This sweaty little mafioso

stared at Carro every day.

-But no luck. Or?

-Funny.

-And look here, this is Linnea.

-Your girlfriend?

No, that's my daughter.

-How did it go?

-Are we going home?

Sure. I'm just showing

our vacation pictures.

-We're having a video night in.

-Come on! I've started to abort!

I've bought Raclette cheese!

You know what? I think that people

keep getting their priorities wrong.

Like poker. It looks easy,

but there's no luck involved.

It's really only about one thing:

risk assessment.

People are so damned stupid.

No one reads books any more.

Why don't you tell me about

you and Mom instead?

Come on... I've told you that one

a thousand times.

Alright...

It was one of those

one in a million things...

It was a regular evening. We were

going out to do some dancing...

But first we went to the kiosk.

How the hell can you eat something

that has parents?

What? A cucumber might

have a dad, after all.

Oh, honey...

Is it that guy?

It's all for the better. Were you

going to commute to Italy?

No, I could have moved there,

you moron.

Linnea, that's not being realistic.

-Besides, he was just sixteen.

-That's rich, coming from you.

So what are we going to do

with the Raclette cheese?

I wonder if you'd think,

"I'm f***ing Madonna right now"-

-if you were to f*** Madonna.

-Shhh...

-Shh!

-Shh!

-Shhh...

-Schlong.

-That's real mature.

Mustafa! Did you bring the pictures

of the Norwegian girls? Because...

Gentlemen. Time to go to sleep.

Okay, okay. Let's sleep.

-Hi.

-Welcome to my home.

-Do you want some tea?

-Yes, please.

So Jocke's not an engineer?

He's not even employed?

He does work. On his tan.

He said that he

worked as a model on the side.

-Breast shots. And some back shots.

-Nice.

They must have had you very young.

Not really. Mom was

sixteen or seventeen. Dad too.

-Oh my.

-There were special circumstances.

Mom had been told she couldn't get

pregnant. So I was a golden egg.

She's very pretty.

Does she live here in Gothenburg?

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