"Also, how does someone manage to learn Norwegian in under a day, Paul?" Brian asked, tapping his foot.

"Vel, jeg vet ikke, spor dom. Jeg var tilsynelatende bevisstlos mesteparten av tiden." (I don't know, ask them. I was apperently unconscious most of the time.)

"That's true. Um, now if you must excuse me, we ladies really must go." Cynthia said, getting her things together, along with Jane, Pattie, and Maureen.

"You can speak Norwegian, too, Cynthia?"

"Oh, yes, but I've known it much longer than Paul- now if you'll excuse us." The four girls left quietly and quietly. They didn't want anything to do with this. Well, Jane wanted to stay with Paul,  but she didn't want to seem suspicious that something happened to Paul.

"Does Paul's speaking Norwegian have anything to do with that ridiculous bandage around his head?" Brian pointed at the large white bandage overlapping Paul's mop top.

"Vel, jeg antar du kan si at." (Well, I guess you could say that.)

"Well, I guess you could say that." George said, eating his sandwich. Paul looked at George, almost saying, "Thank you, George." or even, "Takk, George." if you will.

"And what would that mean?" Brian asked, raising his serious brow. Everyone shrunk down slightly.

"Do you really want to know that?"

"Yes. Tell. Me. Now."

"Um, well you see, Paul accidentally got hit by a wall, and-" John started.

" 'Hit by a wall'? How does someone get hit by a wall?"

"Pa samme mate som noen laer norsk pa under en dag, antar jeg." (The same way someone learns Norwegian in under a day, I suppose.)

"Anyway, he started mixing up everything, so we called a doctor who put that bandage 'round his head, then Paul went to sleep, then everything was fine, until he tripped over the table and now he can only speak Norwegian."

"WHAT!?!? HOW ON EARTH-"