[Setting: New Year’s Day morning, in front of Lars’s apartment door, which is littered with broken plates and cups. Mikkel approaches with a reusable coffee cup in hand.]
Mikkel: (raising an eyebrow) Lars… what happened here? Did a ceramic apocalypse hit your doorstep?
Lars: (beaming) Happy New Year, Mikkel! Isn’t it beautiful? So many people love me!
Mikkel: Love you? This looks more like revenge from someone you owe money to.
Lars: (laughs) No, no! You know it’s the tradition—throwing broken dishes at friends’ doors for good luck. The more shards, the more friends and the more luck!
Mikkel: Right, the Danish plate-smashing ritual. I still don’t get why people think breaking dinnerware equals good fortune. IKEA must be behind this.
Lars: Ha! That’s just what a skeptic would say. But it’s about symbolism. Breaking old things to welcome the new. Out with the bad vibes, in with the good ones.
Mikkel: But Lars, have you ever actually measured your luck after a dish avalanche? Like, did you get a promotion or win the lottery after your door got bombarded?
Lars: Well… last year I got a free muffin at the bakery the next day.
Mikkel: That’s hardly a statistically significant result. Maybe they just had extras.
Lars: Still counts! And two years ago, I met Emma on New Year’s Day. She was walking past and tripped over the broken plates. That’s how we started talking.
Mikkel: So you’re telling me your love life is based on accidental ceramic assault?
Lars: Fate works in mysterious ways, my friend. You can’t argue with destiny.
Mikkel: I’m not arguing with destiny. I’m arguing with the idea that shattering plates has a causal effect on your romantic future. Correlation is not causation, Lars.
Lars: Spoken like a true scientist. But tell me this—aren’t traditions part of what makes life magical? Not everything needs a scientific explanation.
Mikkel: Sure, I’m all for traditions… like baking æbleskiver or singing around the tree. But encouraging people to trash each other’s front steps in the name of luck? You’re lucky no one’s sued you for property damage.
Lars: That’s why we use the ugly plates! No one sacrifices Royal Copenhagen for this.
Mikkel: (laughs) Well, thank heavens for that. But seriously—what if instead of throwing plates, people just… wrote nice notes or brought cookies? Wouldn’t that spread more goodwill and fewer shards?
Lars: Cookies don’t clatter dramatically on the doorstep, Mikkel. Where’s the fun in that?
Mikkel: Fine. But next year, can I bring biodegradable confetti instead? It’s festive and doesn’t require a broom.
Lars: You can throw whatever you want—as long as it’s loud, slightly chaotic, and full of love.
Mikkel: Deal. But if you find a cracked coffee mug in your mailbox next year, you’ll know it’s me—bringing you “measured luck.”
Lars: And I’ll be waiting, broom in hand, grinning like a lunatic.
[They laugh together, stepping carefully over the ceramic battlefield.]
Mikkel: You know, I still think it’s nonsense, but I appreciate how seriously you take nonsense.
Lars: And I appreciate how seriously you try to ruin nonsense with logic. Balance, my friend.
Mikkel: Like yin and yang—except with dishes.
Science Vs Superstition 
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