Naughty Loki

A Little Somethin’ Extra

The humans have been out and about tonight.  Now it’s late, they’re tired, and they’re hungry.  By Volstagg’s beard crumbs, whatever shall they do?!

Chef Cao to the rescue.  One order of orange shrimp and one of tofu with vegetables coming right up!  The humans always ask them not to put in any of those little soy sauce packets.  That stuff is nasty.

Sigyn, let’s see how well they followed instructions tonight.

Not very well, apparently.


But at least there are only five packets.  Once they put in ELEVEN!  Watching the humans fish them out of the bag was like watching clowns get out of a tiny car at the circus.



We do like to get the fortune cookies, though.  Even when the fortune is silly, the cookie is usually good.  Ready, my love?


Let us rend it asunder and see what our fate is!


Splendid!   Can I invent one without the human female in it?

>|: [


‘Tis the Season for Mysterious Packages

Yuletide is certainly the time for mysterious packages and parcels.  Everyone loves surprises, right?  I know I do–when I’m arranging them for other people.  For instance, take this box that the human male received at work just the other day.


Oooo!  Priority Overnight!  Fed-up and Exhausted can be very speedy!


When it arrived, though, he was flummoxed.  He couldn’t imagine what was in it.  He hadn’t ordered any copier toner waste receptacles recently.

A look at the packing slip cleared things up.



The events of the dim past slid up from the depths of his memory.  Back in February, he had ordered a number of these copier accessories and asked that one of them be shipped most expeditiously.

That’s this one.

Of course, it didn’t help that it got addressed to the Geography Department…


…with two different room numbers.

>|: [



All of this larking about in the “downy feather-flakes from the woolly welkin” has made us all cold and hungry–and disinclined to cook.  We have, therefore, taken ourselves off to a local eatery.

The human female has selected a Rubik’s Sandwich.  I presume that means that it comes all nicely sorted out and the eater’s task is to disassemble and reassemble it  as quickly as can be.

I believe this dish is meant to have past rami in it, which is a dark pink sort of meat.  I guess that stuff is aged.  This meat is light pink, so it must be newer—i.e., I give you present rami.  


Who knows what future rami looks like.

(poke, poke, poke)  There is also melted cheese, of which I approve.  The final layer is some sort of old, sour cabbage…stuff.


Eeeeww!   She’s eating it!  Or, rather inhaling it.  The human male does not like this cabbagey stuff, so she is getting  it while the getting is good.  The human male is suitably appalled.

But because I cannot allow a joy of hers to remain unalloyed with disappointment, I have caused the sandwich-maker to interpret “very easy on the mustard” to mean “slather that stuff on with a bricklayer’s trowel.”  The human female is now busy scraping it off.

Sigyn, ever the dainty one, is pleased with this healthy side of steamed vegetables.  The human female had her choice of these or chips or fruit and is disgustingly smug.


Ehehehehe!  The joke’s on her, though, because I saw to it that the kitchen staff gave her the piece of broccoli with all the dirt left on.


Builds character.

>|: [

A Cold, White Surprise

Midgardian weather is rather dull.  In this part of the planet, this season usually brings a bit of relief from the scorching of summer.  A respite, if you will, between triple-digit temperatures and the few crisp, clear days that herald winter at this latitude.  Still, one day is much like the next, and it is BORING.

Day before yesterday, it was gray and dreary all day and we had a little bit of rain.  Not that unusual for a December day.

Yesterday, it rained or drizzled ALL Day.  Still not that unusual for this point on the planet’s path around the sun.

Today dawned damp and gray again.   The weathermen said it was going to be cold and cloudy, with a chance of “wintry mix” late in the afternoon.  What on Midgard is “wintry mix”? That could be everything from a sleet/snow concoction to randomized seasonal tunes on the radio to that vile brown powder that purportedly turns into “cocoa” when  you add water.

By mid-morning, this part of the realm was under a broad swath of light rain that extended for hundreds of miles to the west, where temperatures were lower and actual snow was falling.  The human female’s mother e-mailed just to gloat.  I wondered about that until the human female explained that, this far south, snow is so rare a phenomenon that everyone hopes for it, much to the utter bafflement of citizens who live in places with strange names like Buffalo, Missoula, and Schenectady.

Clearly, they have never spent much time in Jotunheim, or they might have a different opinion of frozen precipitation.

The humans and Sigyn have somewhere to go after work tonight.  I am teasing them on the way with a few little, sleety balls mixed into the rain, my meterological way of saying, “Neener neener neener.”


They have come out again, to the sight of half a thousand young Midgardians losing their tiny minds over this:


Some of them have never seen snow before.  Even the human female, who hails from a part of the state where snow is a possibility once or twice a winter, is fairly giddy with delight.

I must admit, it is rather picturesque.


I had planned on just a few brief flurries, which is more than sufficient to snarl traffic in these parts, but it turns out that my beloved is a huge fan of crystalized dihydrogen oxide particles.

So I am getting my Frost Giant on and making it start to snow harder and, what is more important, to stick.


A quarter hour later, and it is up to our knees, as you can see.  (Apparently, the human female’s phone camera does not like “dark with tiny moving objects.”)

It is snowing so hard that when Sigyn tried to make a snow angel, her precious little divot filled in almost as soon as she climbed out of it.


I am too dignified to lie down in this stuff.


I have not let it get cold enough for this to stick on the roads, which means we should make it home safely, but all bets are off for tomorrow morning, when all this wet stuff should be ice.

Bonus image:


>|: [

Yule Marketing, Part II: More Festive Findings and Holiday Hazards

You will doubtless be relieved to know that, thanks to my quick thinking and my magic, we escaped becoming Tyrannosaurus Chow.  We are quite recovered now and back to poking among the imported oddments.

Well, now, this is interesting.


It would come in very handy at boring Midgardian dinner parties.  I’m sure that, with a few sorcerous tweaks, I can have this little beauty spewing actual lava

Where’s Sigyn?!  Oh, no!  Did she run afoul of more lizards—or more glassware?

Ah, no.  I should have known.  She has merely fallen under the spell of pure-buttery goodness.


We had tiny doggies the last two times, my love, do you recall?  Perhaps it is the year for a  more silvicultural repast.

What do you have there, Sigyn?   Sigyn?  Uh, oh.  Sigyn has become mesmerized, dazzled into tonic immobility by the prospect of a full pound of sugar, glucose, red dye and cherry flavoring…


I wonder how far that beast would s  t  r  e  t  c  h?  I’m thinking about four feet, if the atmospheric conditions were right and the pullers were motivated by a promised reward of chunks of ursine goo..

>|: [

Quiz Time! Frost Giant or Feline? BONUS question!

Observe, if you will, this piece of paper take-out napkin upon the living room floor.


It lies next to an equally shredded piece of ribbon or strapping or fabric or shoelace or… something.   I don’t know what it is.  The humans have a lot of junk.

Now, given that I think it’s funny to leave bits of cruft and recyclables out for the humans to have to bend over and pick up, and that the Terror Twins have a penchant for leaving their playthings strewn about —and paper is most definitely a plaything — tell me:  FROST GIANT or FELINE?

Ehehehehehehe!  Actually, this is a TRICK QUESTION because who am I kidding?

I have recruited these two and they work for me now.


The humans’ new excuse for the state of the house is, “Sorry.  We were the victims of a Cat Two hurricane.”

>|: [    +      =^ ..^=       =     = : – O

Quiz Time! Frost Giant or Feline? (Part II)

Our quiz continues today, with more evidence of foul play in the humans’ household.  For each question, your job is to decide —FROST GIANT or FELINES?  Keep in mind that all the suspects are sly, nimble, and hell-bent on mischief.

Question 5:  A Place for Everything and Everything All Over the Place


Sharpie permanent markers are infinitely useful.  Having a few handy in several spots is just good home management.  However, under the cat tree is not their usual habitat.  Given that I like to see the human female frustrated when it comes time to label containers of leftovers or address packages and that anything not nailed down is a cat toy — FROST GIANT or FELINES?   

Question 6:  Very Probably Not Long for This World


The human female is quite fond of African violets.  She has some that have passed their quarter-century mark!  This one is not doing very well.  it seems that its decorative cache pot had no drainage holes and the poor thing was standing in water for quite some time.  Since the symptoms of overwatering are much like those of underwatering, the human female kept giving it “drinkies.”  The horrid pot is gone now, but this little fellow also looks a little sat-upon and may never recover.  Given that I have helped with home horticulture before and that kitties are fond of sunny windowsills — FROST GIANT or FELINES?

Question 7:  A Protective Covering Doing Its Job


The humans have so many books that some of them are in piles on the floor or leaning up against pieces of furniture.  This splendid two-volume set about the glories of Venice came in a decorative slipcase.  As we all know, the purpose of a slipcase is to protect the tomes within, and this one looks to be adhering to those parameters.  Given my distaste for Byzantine architecture and the Taffy’s predilection for sharpening her talons on any available surface — FROST GIANT or FELINES?

So– How did you do?  Did you determine how to apportion blame in this household?  Who deserves the longer time out, me or the furry felons?   Is there any chance the human female will survive all this mayhem with her sanity intact?

(More to the point, why do the humans have a single-volume version of that Venice book if they also have the two-volume??  That’s just nuts.)

>|: [