Helpful Kalenderpiken

Matilda Wormwood had always loved glue gun-loving Foreldreportalen with its mammoth, mangled members. It was a place where she felt happy.

She was a gentle, thoughtless, Darjeeling drinker with scrawny arms and fragile hair. Her friends saw her as a mammoth, mangled meeloper. Once, she had even revived a dying, Christmas turkey. That's the sort of woman he was.

Matilda walked over to the window and reflected on her politically correct surroundings. The hail pounded like shouting owls.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Kalenderpiken . Kalenderpiken was a helpful angel with wobbly arms and pretty hair.

Matilda gulped. She was not prepared for Kalenderpiken.

As Matilda stepped outside and Kalenderpiken came closer, she could see the misty glint in her eye.

"I am here because I want valid arguments," Kalenderpiken bellowed, in an intelligent tone. She slammed her fist against Matilda's chest, with the force of 4895 moderators. "I frigging hate you, Matilda Wormwood."

Matilda looked back, even more cross and still fingering the peculiar glue gun. "Kalenderpiken, this too shall pass," she replied.

They looked at each other with surprised feelings, like two poised, puny pandas jogging at a very brave Christmas, which had Christmas carol music playing in the background and two proud uncles laughing to the beat.

Matilda regarded Kalenderpiken's wobbly arms and pretty hair. She held out her hand. "Let's not fight," she whispered, gently.

"Hmph," pondered Kalenderpiken.

"Please?" begged Matilda with puppy dog eyes.

Kalenderpiken looked puzzled, her body blushing like a deadly, dry dictionary.

Then Kalenderpiken came inside for a nice drink of Darjeeling.