Opening an umbrella indoors is considered unlucky

[Scene: A cozy living room in Bergen. It’s raining heavily outside. Erik has just come in, soaked, with a colorful umbrella. He opens it indoors to let it dry.]

Lars (sipping coffee):
Whoa, Erik! You’re really gonna open that thing in here?

Erik (horrified, quickly closes it):
Lars! For the love of Odin, do you want to curse my entire apartment?

Lars (grinning):
Pretty sure Odin never had an opinion on umbrellas, mate.

Erik (dead serious):
You never open an umbrella indoors. It’s bad luck. Everyone knows that.

Lars (setting down his mug):
Okay, okay. But… why exactly is it bad luck?

Erik (gesturing wildly):
It just is! When I was ten, my cousin Anna opened an umbrella in the hallway. Two days later, she broke her arm roller-skating. Coincidence? I think not.

Lars:
…You don’t think maybe the roller skates had something to do with it?

Erik (raising a brow):
You mock, but I’ve seen it happen too many times. Umbrella goes up inside → disaster strikes. It’s like the Norwegian version of Final Destination.

Lars (laughing):
Look, I love you, man, but this sounds like classic confirmation bias. You remember the times something bad happened after the umbrella, but you forget the hundreds of times people opened one and nothing happened.

Erik:
That’s what the umbrella demons want you to think.

Lars (playfully nudging him):
I’m going to need a peer-reviewed study on umbrella demons.

Erik (dramatic sigh):
Lars, not everything can be “peer-reviewed.” Some things are felt. Like vibes. Or inherited doom.

Lars (grinning):
But think about it—this superstition probably started because back in the day, umbrellas had big metal spokes. If you opened one indoors, you could knock over a lamp or jab someone in the eye. So people said “it’s unlucky” to stop kids from doing it. Safety, not sorcery.

Erik (pausing):
Hmm… so it’s like when my grandma said if I didn’t chew 32 times, my stomach would explode?

Lars:
Exactly. Not literally true, but meant to keep you from choking like a goose.

Erik (musing):
So… it’s not technically bad luck, but maybe practical advice wrapped in drama?

Lars:
Precisely. Humans are great at inventing stories to explain stuff before science catches up.

Erik (thoughtfully):
Still… when I see someone open one inside, I feel a disturbance in the Force.

Lars (laughs):
You’re not a Jedi, Erik.

Erik (smirking):
Yet.

[They both laugh. Erik slowly, cautiously opens the umbrella again and looks at Lars.]

Erik:
Okay. For science. But if I stub my toe tomorrow, I’m blaming you.

Lars (grinning):
Deal. But if nothing bad happens, you owe me a cinnamon bun from that bakery down the street.

Erik:
Fine. But if a raven perches on my windowsill tonight, I’m moving to Finland.

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[Scene fades with the two friends sipping coffee, umbrella awkwardly propped open beside the radiator, and the rain tapping on the windows like it’s in on the joke.]