The riding did not go well. Benno kept falling off, Muffy’s horse couldn’t be budged from grazing, and Arnold developed a spectacular allergy to bovine dander. Therefore, we have opted to tour the farm on a hayride, sans cows. Rocket has the tractor running, so everyone load up!
No, Fisi! Bad hyena! Stop biting the tires!
Drive, Rocket! Drive!
Ugh. I am dusty and sore from bouncing around in the back of a hard and overcrowded cart. Note to self: hayrides are only romantic if there is a minimal number of occupants and a great deal more hay for padding. Thank goodness we are nearly back at the farmhouse! Sigyn, I don’t know about you, but I could do with a shower and some lunch.
By the Norns! I believe we have unexpected company!
“Thor! Man of Iron–what are you doing here?”
“Brother! Is it not fortuitous? Sigyn’s friend’s acquaintance’s cousin’s brother’s sister-in-law’s uncle is none other than Clint Barton, who has mysteriously acquired this farm! He bade us visit whenever we like.”
“Yeah, Reindeer Games. Pull up a chair or a hay bale or something, pop open a beer, and chill out. Totoro, move your scruffy butt so Sigyn can come and sit by me.”
Sigh. Sigyn, you and I are going to have a long talk about full disclosure when we get home…