The Valet, aka The Adventures of Will Ferrell and the Scandinavian

And, Mary points to the dead man, Will Ferrell, then says, “His real name is David Ferrell? “No, no, no. “David! “Yes; the only name on his birth certificate, one name, as some people only have one name.” *** And Mary points to one of his slippers, with a considerable snag, and major pajama snag, then up, a number of building floors, to that broken Manhattan window, torn flickering cloth on the window’s edge, and says, “So, he likely tripped, on something, a carpet edge, and that chain of events, stumbled, then fell out that Manhattan apartment window and landed on this woman, Erika Segersäll Unræd, also known as persona non grata. “However, some people, there, and there, and there, call her by various names, “Estima, Aestimare, Aesta, Mathematica,” yet as if an artist, author, or auctor of Scandinavian culture finally, fully reemerges; or Mathematica as if a typical fresh, cool Scandinavian breeze? “And that fall, seems to have killed her.” And again, she points to David, in torn 100 percent comfy, cotton pajamas, bottoms loosely fitted, string waist, and shirt that boldly says, “I Love Scandinavia,” front and back, overlaid with different pictures, and each picture has nation-state flags of Denmark, Norway, Sweden, then for some reason, it has Finland and Iceland … … all the Nordic countries … … then Norwegian islands of Svalbard and Jan Mayen, Greenland, the Faroe Islands, and other islands. That, all in all, to some people seem as if a political stretch, aspiration, or endgame. *** And Mary says, “This impact by David, caused Erika Segersäll Unræd, the Scandinavian epic metaphysical poet, to fall on her back and drop this unusual heavily ornate, fully inscribed, in great detail, as if a universal translator, yet birch-bark drink container filled with a morning liquid breakfast concoction, of myrtle, cranberry, honey, and medicinal ingredients?” *** Then Mary smells the contents of that container, and again, then shares with the local police. Then, all agree no alcohol. Yet a crowd member, then another, that knows her quite well, mumbles otherwise. *** However, and again, a careful whiff finds no alcohol.