Setting: A cozy kitchen in Aarhus, Denmark. The aroma of roast goose fills the air. Two friends, Lars (superstitious) and Mikkel (rational), are sitting at the table with a few candles flickering, enjoying a glass of red wine.
Lars: (grinning while carving the goose)
See, Mikkel? Nothing beats a proper roast goose on Mortensaften. Warm, crispy skin… and no bad luck for the rest of the year. You’re welcome.
Mikkel: (chuckling)
Thanks for the meal, Lars. It’s delicious, no doubt. But don’t tell me you actually believe your luck depends on whether or not you eat a bird tonight.
Lars:
Of course, I do! It’s tradition for a reason. Haven’t you ever noticed how every year we skip Mortensaften, something awful happens? Like last year, I didn’t have goose—and the week after, my bike got stolen!
Mikkel: (raising an eyebrow)
You left your bike unlocked outside a bar for six hours, Lars. That’s not bad luck—that’s physics meeting poor decisions.
Lars:
Still! Coincidence or not, I’m not taking chances. St. Martin warned people, right? And they tried to keep him quiet by roasting geese. Ever since, we roast them in his honor. It keeps the misfortune away.
Mikkel:
You’re quoting a 1600-year-old story where geese supposedly “betrayed” a bishop by honking too much. Doesn’t that sound like the plot of a children’s book more than a real cause-and-effect relationship?
Lars:
Okay, but even my morfar swore by it. He never missed a Mortensaften meal. And he lived till 97! Only ever broke one bone—fell off a ladder at 85 while picking apples. Still didn’t blame the goose.
Mikkel:
That sounds more like good genes and questionable hobbies. Look, I love tradition. I even brought the wine, didn’t I? But believing the universe punishes you for skipping poultry one night a year is a stretch.
Lars: (smirking)
You’re forgetting the year YOU skipped Mortensaften, and you got food poisoning the next day. Remember that kebab place?
Mikkel: (laughs)
Yes, but that wasn’t cosmic retribution—it was a dodgy shawarma and ignoring the “C” hygiene rating on the window. Honestly, I should’ve brought my own microscope.
Lars:
But don’t you think traditions carry… energy? Not in a scientific way, but a kind of rhythm. Like, the universe likes it when we follow rituals. It’s comforting. Protective.
Mikkel:
I get the comfort. Rituals give us structure and connect us to people and the past. That’s beautiful. But the danger is when you start thinking it controls your fate. That’s giving roast goose way too much power.
Lars:
So you’re saying I should just eat goose because it tastes good?
Mikkel:
Exactly! And because I didn’t come all the way here for tofu. But let’s call it what it is—an awesome tradition, not a magic spell.
Lars:
Fine. Maybe you’re right. But if I don’t eat it next year and something bad happens, I’m blaming you.
Mikkel: (smiling)
Deal. And if I do eat it and something bad happens, I’m blaming your cooking.
Lars: (pretending to be offended)
Then I hope you enjoy the bad luck from dry goose. Bon appétit, Mr. Scientist.
[They clink their glasses, the room filled with laughter and the warm glow of Mortensaften.]
Science Vs Superstition 
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