Coming Up With A Concrete Plan

(I’m walking with my mum and my dad in Drøbak, a beautiful city that has cozy wooden houses with well-kept gardens and, in the middle of it all, the ugliest concrete building we’ve ever seen.)

Dad: “How many years do you get behind bars for designing that thing? Two? Three?”

Me: “Yeah. They didn’t even try.”

(My mum and I turn to look inside an art gallery.)

Dad: *still staring at the building and muttering to himself* “Concrete… You can’t set fire to it, either.”