So. Festival of love. All the brides arrived today. Went to meet them at the local flight terminal. I assumed that they’d be arriving at different times on different carriers–a critical miscalculation on my part. Not only did they arrive on the *same* transport, they had spent the trip comparing notes. Each had thought she was my only paramour. By the time they arrived, they had all decided that “Loki Liesmith” was the source and summit of all evil. I was attacked on all sides by irate females wielding hand luggage, pointy shoes, and bouquets of plant matter with thorns. I was strangled by a veil, jabbed with hat pins, and smacked with rolled up bridal magazines. Not since I suffered at the hand of that pernicious green Hulk have I taken such a pounding.

Midgardians swear by the application of frozen legumes to one’s injuries (though why they should be more efficacious than any other vegetable escapes me.) Lacking access to peas-only products, I’m making do with what I have…

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