Naughty Loki

Branching Out to Annoy Other Members of the Family

I think obnoxiousness must run in the family.  The human female’s mother is fine, but her sister has done nothing but insult me this trip.  According to her, I “pick on the human female too much.”  Ha! As if I give the human female even a tenth of the trouble she gives me!

At any rate, I think I may have to focus some of my attention on the sister, just to teach her a little respect.

At the moment, the human female and her sister are playing a game.  There are colorful wooden tiles involved, and the object appears to be to get six of one shape or one color in a row.  What happens if I stick in an extra one?

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What, did I mess up the game?  How do you know it’s not this orange one causing all the trouble?  Or maybe it’s the purple one?

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The human female has now won a couple of games, so the two of them are just fooling about with the tiles.  The sister is adamant that they be laid out in an orderly manner. You could say it’s a compulsion.

I am happy to oblige with green ones.

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Sigyn, of course, has volunteered to handle the red ones.  The sisters are making some sort of giant array.

What happens, I wonder, if I do just a tiny bit of meddling?  How about one tile?  Is that irksome?

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Eehehehehe! The sister’s eye is starting to twitch.  Apparently this one small deviation from the pattern is enough to make her profoundly uncomfortable.

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Too bad for you, mortal.  My dearest is happy to see this see this red star right here, so you are just going to have to learn to like it…

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Protecting You From the Most Important Meal of the Day

I stand amazed.  The human female has broken with the time-hallowed Inn Breakfast Ritual, thrown tradition to the winds, and passed up both the large round breakfast maker AND the Texas-shaped breakfast maker!  There will be no cakey little cubby holes to fill with butter and syrup this morning!

No, she has elected to go the protein route, filling her flimsy plate with eggs and bacon.

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Sigyn is enthused.  And the Norns know I do like a good strip of crisp bacon.  But really, human, I am just looking out for you.  That is far too much bacon for one person.   Here, let me save you from some calories.

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Oh, and I’ve heard orange juice is just loaded with sugar, and you could wreck your whole day by downing a glass.  Let me fix that.

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You’ll thank me later.

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Another Journey, Another Inn

I can’t believe I let myself be talked into this.  Again.  You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now, but apparently not.

The humans have loaded two duffel bags, an ice chest, two bags of board games, a bag of stitchery, a backpack, two laptops, an unconscionable amount of snacks, and assorted other clutter into the car and pointed its nose west to go visit the human’s mother (whom I actually like) and her sister and the sister’s spouse.

That is a lot of humans and a LOT of driving.

It looks as if it is also going to be a lot of weather.  They’re predicting rain tomorrow.  Oh, joy.

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We are breaking our journey in an inn.  One Midgardian inn is much like another.  Beds, televisions, minuscule refrigerator, ugly decor, and a cake next to the sink.  I’ve lost count of the times that I’ve tried to explain to Sigyn that sink cakes are NOT actual-for-eating cakes, but she has not given up hope that somewhere, some day, she is going to find one she can nom.

STOP! 

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She’s all excited because this one is sitting in a puddle of goo, just like a good tres leches cake should.  Sweetie, I wouldn’t taste that if I were you.

Yes, all in all, this seems to be a typical inn.  And as one should, I am examining the premises to ensure I know the exit plan should an emergency arise.  I can always teleport Sigyn and myself to safety—I just want to know where to misdirect the humans if the alarms go off in the middle of the night.

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Interesting…

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According to this map, I am standing in the parking lot, watching the inn burn.

I like it.

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With Malus Aforethought

I think I know how to make the human female’s love of apples bear fruit. (Snerk!)

She really does keep track of all the different varieties she eats.  She even photographs them:

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That’s just a sample.  And look!  She’s even had one of those ‘Winter Banana’ ones!

She keeps her tasting notes in a little book.  Actually, make that “books.”  She’s filled one completely up and is a good way into another.

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She records their lineage, their appearance, and their taste. Her favorites get a little star by their name.

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Looks like her hundredth variety was a good one.  I’ve made sure she hasn’t found any since.

She has no compunction about lambasting varieties she finds less than stellar:

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These little books are like scripture for her.  Her memory’s not so good, so she really relies on them to help her remember which varieties she’d like to eat again and which ones to skip.  No one’s allowed to meddle with them.

Pffft!  Rules.  Let’s see if she notices my little addition…

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There Has To Be a Way To Use This…

As I’ve noted, the human female considers herself an apple “aficionado,” and she brings home any and all strays to evaluate and eat them.

She has all sorts of (large, heavy) books devoted to the subject.  Take this one, for example:

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The names are funny.  “Ashmead’s Kernel.”  Who made that one up?  And read the description :  “Pick in October, but don’t eat until Christmas, unless pain is your thing.”  And the descriptions!  “Honeyed nuttiness, crisply sweet, not sugar sweet, but the succulence of a well-devilled marrow bone.”  I don’t know about anyone else, but— Marrow?!  bleargh!

Some of the books, I will admit, do have attractive illustrations.  This one has a few plates of well-executed watercolors.

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She came home from the library positively giddy the other day, because she discovered that those illustrations were just a tiny sample of the pictures from a larger, monumental work on all the apples of this realm and the one to the north.

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AND THERE ARE SIX MORE VOLUMES!  Really.  It’s riveting reading.

Not.

It’s page after page of dubiously-linked references, put together by a small cadre of pomaceous geeks who toiled for decades to compile the definitive list of apple cultivars.

I think they just made up the names.  Look at this one:

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‘Winter Banana?!’  Either this is one colossal prank, or the mortals are stupider than I estimated them to be.  Who names an apple after a BANANA?

But apparently, it’s a real variety.

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The amount of fruit nerdery is just staggering.  There has to be a way to turn the human female’s interest in the subject into mischief—or at least get some amusement out of it.

I shall have to think about this…

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Weeeeeep! Alert! Alert! Beeeeeep! (I Got Bored)

The fire alarms in the human female’s workplace have just gone off.

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Like good little lemmings, the building’s occupants have all trooped down the stairs, the fire doors slamming shut behind them.  Now they’ve scattered.  They’re all supposed to gather on the lawn across the street, but it looks like quite a few are milling about down the street.

The staff are hard at work, defending the perimeter against hapless passers-by who, eyes glued to phones, insist on wandering through the evacuation zone.

We’ve been out here for a while now, and I’m having a hard time deciding what my favorite part of this prank is.  Is it that:

A.  No one seems to know what’s going on.  Are we in imminent danger of immolation?  Supposedly a drill was scheduled for today, but we had the brief “this is a test, you don’t need to evacuate” alarm earlier today.  The voice on this recent alarm didn’t say anything about a drill, so…

B.  The human female didn’t have time to snatch her all-precious USB drive out of her computer before she left.  Her *life* is on that drive.  It’d be a real delight if it managed to burn up, wouldn’t it?

C.  As the staff were checking that all the rooms on the human female’s floor were empty, they discovered that about half of the red “everyone’s out of this room” door tags were mysteriously missing.

D.  This is the third evacuation this week.  I made an fire alarm trifecta!

Ehehehehehe!  It’s E—All of the above!

Ah.  They’ve finally figured out that it is a drill, but they want us all outside anyway.  Hey, at least it isn’t cold and raining, like it was yesterday when everyone was standing around out here!

What’s the record for most evacuations in a semester?  I think I can beat that.

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