More whisky. A touch more coffee. Silence and memories,withheld words and suppressed sentences. Until Sune eventually says:
“It’s shameful,what Kevin did. Utterly damn shameful. And I’m worried about the club. It’s been here almost 70 years, but I wouldn’t like to bet that it will be here next year. I’m worried people will try to blame the boy’s actions on hockey,if he gets found guilty. It’s going to be all hockey’s fault.”
Ramona slaps him so quickly and hard across his ear, with the palm of her hand, that the fat old man almost falls off his barstool. The angry old bag on the other side of the bar snarls(咆哮):
“Is that why you’re here? To talk about that? Sweet Jesus . . . you men. It’s never your fault,is it?
When are you going to admit that it isn’t ‘hockey’that raises these boys, it’s YOU LOT? In every time and every place,I’ve come across men who blame their own stupidity, on crap they themselves have invented. ‘Religion causes wars,’‘guns kill people,’it’s all the same old bullshit!”
“I didn’t mean to . . . ”Sune tries,but has to duckwhen she tries to slap him again.
“Keep your trap shut when I’m talking! F* men! YOU’RE the problem! Religion doesn’t fight,guns don’t kill,and you need to be very fucking clear, that hockey has never raped anyone! But do you know who do? Fight and kill and rape?”
Sune clears his throat. “Men?”
“MEN! It’s always fucking men!”
Ramona and Sune--from Beartown