De kleine blonde dood Page #4

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Here, at the bottom of the page.

It's what we agreed upon with

what your lawyer added...

the payment terms, delivery dates.

Rights and obligations.

Jesus, you're crazy.

An opportunity like that.

Crazy's the wrong word.

You're a coward. You're scared.

I thought you studied law,

not psychology.

Afraid to honour your obligations.

A**hole.

How old are you?

Do you want to go on like this for ever?

Did I put in all that effort for this?

Never mind.

Dear Harold, I don't want to translate.

I want to be translated.

I suddenly realised that.

As if you've written that much,

these last years.

You're one of the few people

who don't change at all.

And I don't mean that as

a compliment.

You're content with what you

achieved years ago.

The illusion of the brilliant poet.

Dope, inspiration, sex, poetry.

The Valentijn Boecke gimmick.

May I?

I already know that gimmick.

You're too scared to make

a commitment.

Whether it's translation work or

a relationship.

Never mind.

- No, continue, it's interesting.

Maybe I can do something at your

lawyer's office.

A real commitment, I mean.

Don't you have parties with the

personnel?

Right. Bye.

My lunch break's over.

Can you pay?

Harold, wait.

Yes, here's your money. Go pay.

It's Micky's birthday tomorrow

and I don't have a cent.

Can I borrow a 100 bucks

from you?

A 100 bucks?

Come on.

For the good cause.

Loser.

I hope you can get early

retirement.

Or else you'll be working there

until you're 65. Sucker.

Happy birthday...

Micky's in bed.

Is he sick?

- Yes.

What's wrong with him?

- Nothing, he's just sick.

The flu. Nothing serious.

Just go. I didn't tell him

it's his birthday.

What kind of nonsense is that?

You've got balloons.

Valentijn, please get lost.

You're never that worried about him.

Well celebrate some other time.

He's got candy and everything.

It's his birthday.

You can't do that to him.

To bed you.

Act the nice daddy next week.

What happened?

- Get lost.

You hit him.

Let go off me.

- Did you hit Micky?

I asked you something.

- It was an accident.

He had chocolate on his fingers.

I pushed him.

What is it to you?

Open up!

Open up, damnit.

Show me.

Does it hurt?

- A bit.

We're going to celebrate your birthday.

And we'll get your things.

Come.

Open up!

Let me in!

Flip-flops.

Micky's staying with me for

a while.

Come, kid.

You're good at pretending.

A**hole!

Micky, I love you!

Micky!

Do you have a real father,

Valentijn?

He...

Is he dead?

- Not as far as I know.

Oh, you've had an argument.

I wish I had a real father too.

- I am a real father.

Then why can I never call you

daddy, always Valentijn?

Well?

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