I have been doing a lot of thinking. Mostly about that lovely maiden I saw yesterday. I went out again this morning but failed to see her. Surely I did not imagine her? Surely I will see her again and will make her mine? I am not used to not getting what I want. I will not say I am prone to tantrums, but let us say that whenever I am displeased, someone suffers.
I have also been thinking about my destiny to rule Earth. It occurs to me that perhaps, before I subjugate the entire realm of Midgard, I ought to work on conquering part of it. A black-leather-booted foot in the door, so to speak.
With that in mind, I have decided to begin by claiming the human female’s workspace. I have already made my presence felt in her "office." I have scrambled the weather, fouled up student registrations, increased the level of flimsy student excuses, disarranged important orders, mislaid papers, and tampered with steam supplies, door locks, and computer directories. The Midgardians who are aware of my presence are nearly at the point of making sacrifices to me, which is quite gratifying. I shall demand jewels, weapons, furs, and cookies, of which I have become quite fond. (Why do we not have cookies in Asgard? Ale. We have ale. And boasting. And facial hair.)
Now to expand and claim the entire A&M campus. The timing is good, as they are currently looking for a new President. I would make a great president. A small army comes with the position. I could easily rouse the Corps of Cadets to carry out my every command. Then I would divert all the money, materials, and manpower from the many campus construction projects and begin building a palace fit for a god. Surely that is more important that football or parking?
I must become more familiar with the campus so that I may decide where best to place my palace. I am visiting the Academic Building, which occupies a central location. It is not the first building on this site. Since a previous structure burned to the ground, no one would mind if this one too were to be replaced.
Hmm. I notice that even though A&M’s colors are supposedly maroon and white, the floor tiling in this edifice is executed in black and green. Black and green! I approve! I shall allow this building to remain and continue my campus tour.
I saw that thrice-blasted horse again this morning. To be more accurate, I saw a small herd of horses. There were four white ones, and from a distance I couldn’t be sure which beast was the miserable wretch who savaged my hand. I’m sure, though, that I would recognize that foul nag if I could look him in the beady, bloodshot eye.
I kept my distance and cloaked myself with a concealing glamour, however. Not out of cowardice, you understand, but because tending the horses was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. The early sun on her chestnut hair and lovely features quite dazzled me.
I have always scoffed at those who prate about love at first sight, but I begin to understand now. I, Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim, god, warrior, and mighty magician, found myself utterly at a loss.
I might have only one chance to win her, and I suspect my usual tactic of ordering people to kneel and submit might not be the best approach. What in the name of Odin’s eyepatch should I do??
Most of the Midgardians are caught up in watching something called the “Olympics.” I approve–this large assemblage of warriors of both sexes competing in all manner of events is a noble thing. I am having difficulty parsing the “hockey,” though. Why do the players not simply arm themselves with axes and swords rather than those feeble sticks? The object is clearly to annihilate one’s opponent. I do hate to see things done inefficiently.
I have been pondering which sports I might compete in. As a Frost Giant, I have a natural affinity for snow and ice. Skiing looks like fun, and the ski jump like flying. Do not tell that oaf, Thor, but I have always rather envied his ability to fly. Although, it must be admitted that Thor does not so much *fly* as lob Mjolnir and hang on for dear life, squealing like a little girl. (They edit that bit out in the movies, you can be sure.)
The ice skating is intriguing. I am lithe, nimble, and powerful– I would do well. But I would never be caught dead in such complicated, ostentatious, and impractical clothing. Oh, wait…
Perhaps the summer games would be a better fit. I am a natural gymnast, jumper, and sprinter. And, despite recent evidence to the contrary, I am quite good with horses— perhaps equestrian events? I understand that the games also include several forms of unarmed combat. I must look into this “judo” and determine whether it involves knives, with which I am quite proficient.
I have excellent hearing as well, so I heard the human female just now when she said, “Aaaand in lane four, it’s Loki of Sassgard, expected to medal in the 500 meter snark.” Laugh it up, wench. You will find wasabi in your yogurt tomorrow…
I am feeling mostly recovered from the drubbing I took the other day. The weather is nice, so I took my definitely single self for a walk. The Midgardians reckon this a lucky plant and say one can make wishes with it. I wish for no more female entanglements!
I felt well enough to play some hide and seek. Somehow, when I’m not using magic, I always get found. I don’t get it.
I climbed a tree. My beefy (and beefy-headed) brother Thor can uproot and bend oak trees. But I am faster and more nimble at climbing them. I always used to beat him to the top, and I bet I still could.
I shimmied down and had a nice lie-in in a patch of tiny purple
flowers. The bees wouldn’t dare tangle with me. Would they?
(The human female garbled out the Latin name for this plant, but I never listen when she starts talking botany.)
This vine, on the other hand, I should like to know more about.
Look at the prickles! I can think of all sorts of uses for it.
There is a lot to do on a walk. I had to poke this lichen. I don’t trust it.
I tried on a new hat. Hmmm. It fits well, don’t you think? Or is it too much like a tam-o-shanter? I wouldn’t want to be mistaken for a Scotsman. Scotsmen wear skirts. The rightful King of Asgard does not. (Not usually, anyway.)
I chose a nice moss cushion in the shade for a picnic spot. (The human female says moss is underappreciated. Or, at least, I think that’s what she said. I was distracted.) I found a tasty berry for lunch. It’s important to know how to live off the land, just in case circumstances ever dictate.
Later, the berry and I had a slight disagreement. Note to self : Pay attention when the female rattles on about plants…
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…
The Midgardians are whipping themselves into a frenzy in preparation for the upcoming festival of “love” and “romance.” In my experience, lavish expenditures for flowers, sweetmeats, and entertainment are not necessary. (Asgardian poetry runs to battles and gore and does not generally appeal to females, unless they are minded like Sif.) I am used to getting what I want either by direct methods or by guile, not bribery. In order to secure companionship for the festival, I have stolen the human’s credit chit and have opted for the straightforward approach.