Honig im Kopf

---

HEAD FULL OF HONEY

Everything I know about Grandpa's illness

I learned from my doctor, Dr. Ehlers.

Grandpa has Alzheimer's.

People with Alzheimer's forget lots.

I mean, it's true that I often forget

what homework I have to do,

or to brush my teeth,

but with Grandpa it's different.

My parents wanted to put him in a home.

That's basically why

I've had to take things into my own hands.

We're heading to Venice.

He remembers loads about Venice,

although it's been 40 years

since he proposed to Grandma there.

People with Alzheimer's

might keep brushing their teeth

because they forget they just did it,

but they remember things like

that they flossed 25 years ago.

I never remember stuff like that.

Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.

I hope you guys are okay.

Don't worry about us.

We're sitting on a train, as you see.

And we had breakfast.

Chips, because they're so healthy.

- Grandpa, want to say something?

- What?

- To who?

- Mom and Dad.

Hello?

Hello?

They're gone.

Well, in any case, I love you.

See you tomorrow.

Or the day after. Bye!

Where are you going?

Toilet can.

Oh sh*t!

Grandpa!

Hey, was that you?

Stop. police!

Grandpa!

Grandpa!

That's us. Grandpa Amandus and me.

I now understand

why Grandpa is the way that he is.

But I don't think I'll ever figure out

why my parents are the way they are.

Why do people change as they get older?

Like, all my parents talk about

is what happened last week

or what will happen.

I mean, Grandpa has no idea

what'Il happen tomorrow

or what happened last week.

And I sometimes think

that's not such a bad thing.

Actually, it all started

when Grandma died.

One might say that she brought

a hint of glamour to our village.

She wanted to discover the world...

- Do you think they'll burn her?

- Who?

- Your grandma.

- Are you crazy?

Then she'll just be eaten up by worms.

But Grandma's in a coffin.

They can get through that.

Can we change the subject?

Okay.

As long as a person

lives on in our memories,

she is never forgotten.

What do you engrave

on an atheist's tombstone?

Don't know.

- All dressed up and nowhere to go.

- Very funny.

My dear Amandus,

the last time we spoke

you said you wished to say

a few words about your wonderful wife.

Margarethe was...

simply wonderful.

And, above all, she had

a big heart and was warm and giving.

I'm not talking about her big breasts.

I know you all know them.

Can you say that when someone just died?

Margarethe always laughed at my jokes.

In return, up to the very end,

I always ate her apple pie.

The one with a pastry lid

and canned whipped cream.

She hadn't made that in years.

I could hardly even stand

the smell of it anymore.

But I always ate it when she made it.

Because, ultimately,

people are just creatures...

creatures of habit.

I'd have loved something different.

Like plum cake, perhaps.

Or maybe an apricot tart or...

Oh, that one... What's it called again?

Marzipan cake. Or... Oh, yes!

Cream puffs. I do love cream puffs.

They make the best marzipan cake at...

At that place.

Now what is it called again?

The one at the intersection,

where that house is,

the one they thingamajigged.

- Oh, stuff it up your ass!

- Grandma!

But I'd give anything

for a slice of your apple pie now.

My dear Elisabeth!

- Elisabeth?

- His mother.

What on earth will I do without you?

Niko, I just hope one day

you too can find a woman

who is as wonderful to you

as your mother was to me.

Till soon, my love.

After the funeral, Dad asked Grandpa

to come and live with us.

Grandpa didn't want to.

He said he couldn't leave Grandma alone.

Dad drove me to Grandpa's some weekends.

We'd always walk to Grandma's grave

to put fresh flowers on it.

I was alone at home a lot anyway.

I'm a latchkey kid, you see.

Plus, my parents often argue at home.

Because Dad had sex with this woman,

then Mom did the same

with her boss at the Christmas party.

Dad was really angry.

But Grandpa said, "if the cockerel

can play, then the hens can too."

Grandpa used to be a vet, you see.

Dad always says farmers

would pretend their cows were sick

Dad always says farmers

would pretend their cows were sick

because they loved

having Grandpa visit them.

When Dad told me things like that

I could tell how proud he was of Grandpa.

Then one day he called us up

and said he had forgotten

how to get to the cemetery.

Grandpa!

- Grandpa!

- Hello?

- The police just called.

- Why?

- They have your dad.

- Where?

- At the station.

- Why?

- You may want to sit down.

- Stop babbling. What's up?

I'm not,

I'm telling you about your dad.

Out with it!

He's filing a missing person's report.

- For your mother.

- He's not...

Go get him.

They'll keep him till you arrive.

- What's up?

- Come on. We're going to pick up Grandpa.

- Hello.

- I'm Mr. Rosenbach.

I'm here to get my father,

Amandus Rosenbach.

Ah, the elderly man

who reported his dead wife missing.

Here.

He left this here.

- Do you know who she is?

- My mother.

- When she was young.

- He brought it as a search photo.

- Where is he?

- We took him home.

Why?

- Why didn't you keep him?

- He insisted.

He'd never ridden in a police car.

Tilda!

My little principessa!

Look.

I'm sure I know him from somewhere too.

Come in.

It's nice you came to visit me.

Here, come in and have a seat.

- Would you like a cookie?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes