Better Call Paul – Your Favorite Norwegian


On the middle of the Øresund’s bridge we meet Stig-Helmer again.

Stuck in a traffic jam his temper is slowly starting to take over.

“Fucking move you imbeciles!! Can you not drive a car?!”

Slowly. Taking. over.

Stig-Helmer proceeds to slam his forehead into the car horn repeatedly as the lady in the car next to him covers her child’s eyes with her hands.

Stig-Helmer, as ever both attentive to the smallest details and also a very gallant man, flips the mother off before staring at the kid in the passenger seat before mouthing the word, “Du är en lite jävla skit!” his gaze burning itself into the kid’s memory for ever.

As he is about to flip the kid off a bald, tattooed beast of a man leans in from behind the kid and stares back.

Stig-Helmer, needing a second or two to process what is happening, quickly adapts and starts to smile broadly, waving and winking as he is sending thumbs up.

The man’s eyes go dark as the lady screams at him and points towards Stig-Helmer. Pointing directly at Stig-Helmer’s face.

She was probably just mentioning how lovely a car that Volvo V40 is and that they should get one too.

Meanwhile Stig-Helmer had already bolted from his car.

Sneaking below the radar he crawled past car after car, frantically pulling out his phone.

*phone ringing beeps*

“Yes hello, hello yes.” A Norwegian man replies.

“Didn’t I tell you specifically never to answer the phone like that when I call you..”

“You did.”

“Okay,” a winded Stig-Helmer sighed, “now what did I teach you?”

“… Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

A heavy sigh from the man, a soft cry, before he breaks the silence.

“Better Call Paul, the Paul you need to call when a court order you need to stall – Paul speaking.”

“There we go!”

“I.. I feel ridiculous! I feel.. pathetic, yes that’s the word!”

“You are pathetic, Paul. You’re Norwegian.” Stig-Helmer scoffs.

“My wife left me, did you know that Stig?”

“Yes. I was the one who told you.” Stig-Helmer’s voice filled with lust, “I called you while we were doing it.”

“Stop -I’ve been trying to forget it!” Paul cried.

“I filmed it – it was a video call, remember? I showed you all the details.”

Now you might be wondering what about the bald man? Well, speak of the devil, eh?

“Ah forget about it, that’s not why I called.” Stig-Helmer zig-zagged between cars as the bald man was in pursuit of him. “You see, Paul, something happened in Sweden.”

Now hiding behind a large van Stig-Helmer breathes a sigh of relief, “Okay, Paul, listen.. Let’s say an operation went wrong. What would happen to the surgeon then?”

“Well, what happened to the patient? Mistakes can happen like that one time you told me to hold a nail for you so you could hang up that picture of the person in the hospital bed. He looked very happy. But then you hit my hand 5 times in a row and-”

“Yes yes I know! But let’s say an operation went wrong, and then the patient got very sick after. That wouldn’t be so bad, right?”

“No, I mean that happens I imagine. Like that time you locked me outside your house even though you had broken my thumb, and it was -12 degrees celsius and I was only in my boxers and-“

“Yes yes that’s fine! Now, Paul, what now if we say the operation goes wrong and you know-the patient might have gotten seriously harmed, like mildly seriously harmed. That’s surely okay?”

Stig-Helmer ignores Paul’s answer as his head peeks out from the side of the van.

The big bald man standing next to Stig-Helmer’s car scratching his big, bald head.

“..and then on the way home you came driving back after me, and I thought you were going to pick me up, but then you honked at me and laughed as you poured cold water on me from the window before speeding off and I was-“

“Yes, I remember vividly, Paul. But let’s forget the good times for a moment, and let’s say the operation was.. not succesful, and the surgeon made a..” Stig-Helmer bit his tongue, trying to hold back, “mistake.. Jävla..”

“Well, if you messed up, Stig-“

“I DID NOT MESS UP. But what if, said surgeon, during the operation that went wrong made a not ideal decision and perhaps took out the patients brain which was unnecessary. What then?”

“Did you-“

“NOT ME. It was a drunk guy.. on a.. recording I saw once. But what now if we change the situation slightly. You still listening Paul?”

“Yes.” Paul’s voice was determined like never before.

“Wh-what’s wrong, Paul?”

“I’m just trying to pee, but ever since that one time where you asked me to unzip, and you were standing with the hedge sheers I-“

“Jävla! You pee while talking with me?”

“Well, I was pooping a minute ago..and then you know how it is, a little while after you need to pee.”

“amen till helvetet! I don’t care what you do! Just listen to me! Listen to me Paul! Can you understand that!”

The cars on the bridge had started moving again during Stig-Helmer’s rage, and the van had similarly disappeared.

Something that Stig-Helmer became painfully aware of. Feeling as if he was standing buck-naked on the bridge he slowly turned his face towards his car where the bald man was before.

“Ah, tremendous” he sighed of relief as he spotted the bald man was gone.

“AMEN FOR HELVETET!”

And so was his nice Volvo V40.

Instead was left the red Fiat Multipla that the bald man and his family had driven.

The red color was worn down, the tires semi-flat. Bumper was pushed in, and the seats were in the same state as the rest of the car.

Keys still in the ignition.

“Jävla.” he said as he stepped into the car.

“Okay, Paul, listen here. Lets say an operation went wrong and the surgeon made a not ideal decision and took out the brain as part of impressing some hookers and when the brain was placed back in the patient suddenly things were not working out as intended and the patient is now not getting better and there is nothing the surgeon can do and the surgeon might get sued and the surgeon is panicking and wants to hear about his options now that things are looking quite bad and the surgeon is not fully, completely comfortable with this situation that will ruin his reputation and everything he has worked to create in his 40 year long career.”

Paul was silent for what seemed an eternity.

“And, what if that surgeon was also highly intoxicated, singing helan går while blowing kisses to the prostitutes he had brought into the surgery room himself. Would that make things worse?

“Stig-Helmer was this you?”

“NO! How could you suggest such drivel! …But, what if it was, what would you recommend me to do?”

“Stig..” I would drive, and I wouldn’t stop driving until there was no more gas in the tank.”

“Jävla.” Stig-Helmer sighed.

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