Never raising the Danish flag after sunset or forgetting to take it down, as it’s said to invite the Devil

Setting: A cozy apartment in Aarhus, Denmark. It’s late evening. The two friends, Mikkel (superstitious) and Jonas (rational thinker), are sipping coffee and chatting after dinner.

---

Mikkel: (suddenly glancing out the window)
Oh no! Jonas, you didn’t take the flag down from your balcony!

Jonas: (nonchalantly)
Relax, Mikkel. It’s just a flag. It’s not like the Devil’s checking who’s got fabric fluttering past sunset.

Mikkel: (genuinely alarmed)
Don’t joke about that! You know what they say—if the Dannebrog is left flying after dark, it invites dark spirits. My grandmother swore she saw shadows moving outside her house the one time she forgot. And her cat hissed at thin air for hours!

Jonas: (laughs)
Come on, Mikkel. Cats hiss at their own reflections. You know how dramatic they are. I once saw my niece’s kitten have a full-blown panic attack over a cucumber.

Mikkel: (serious)
But it’s not just cats. There are rules, Jonas. Even the old neighbors—remember Mr. Lindegaard? He’d march up to your door if your flag was still up at 8 p.m. in summer.

Jonas:
Yes, and he also believed rubbing garlic on your chest kept colds away. Which, to be fair, probably did keep people away. But that’s not exactly scientific proof.

Mikkel:
It’s tradition! It’s about respect. The flag symbolizes the nation. Letting it flap around after dark is like wearing your underpants on your head during a royal dinner.

Jonas:
Colorful metaphor. But tradition isn’t the same as evidence. Look—if leaving the flag up really summoned evil, we’d have demons chilling in every campground after midsummer festivals. You know how many people forget?

Mikkel:
Maybe that explains the weird vibes in that Roskilde port-a-potty last year.

Jonas: (grinning)
That was just because someone tried to flush a glow stick, not a hellhound emerging through the plumbing.

Mikkel:
Alright, Mr. Rational. So why is the flag taken down before sunset if not to avoid ghostly consequences?

Jonas:
It’s a matter of etiquette and visibility. The Dannebrog is a national symbol, and tradition holds that it should only be flown in proper light. That’s why, if you do fly it at night, it should be lit properly. No devil, just decorum.

Mikkel:
So you’re saying it’s about lighting and manners, not portals to the underworld?

Jonas:
Exactly. Think of it like not wearing muddy boots indoors. It’s polite, not supernatural.

Mikkel: (thoughtfully)
Okay… but what about the time I left the flag up during a storm and my internet went out?

Jonas:
Mikkel, that was a thunderstorm. Half of Aarhus lost signal. Unless you think the Devil was downloading Netflix through your router?

Mikkel: (chuckles)
I mean, “Lucifer” was trending that week.

Jonas: (laughing)
Touché. Look, I get the comfort of tradition. I really do. But maybe instead of fearing the Devil, we just honor the flag by following the rules because we choose to respect it—not because we’re scared of invisible forces.

Mikkel:
Hmm. So it’s not about fear, but respect?

Jonas:
Exactly. And hey, if it makes you feel better, I’ll go take it down now. But not because I’m scared of your grandma’s ghost.

Mikkel: (smiling)
She would haunt you with passive-aggressive baking. You’d wake up to a full tray of æbleskiver and guilt.

Jonas:
Now that is truly terrifying.

---

[End Scene]