I don't trust it

More Adventures in the Room of Skulls

I was able to rescue Sigyn from the clutches of that murderous deer.  Horrible creatures, deer, really.  I prefer to think of them as merely the larval stage of roast venison.

There are more skulls here, and they are drawing a lot of attention.  The human female and her minions are showing them off to anyone who wanders by.

Sigyn is investigating the pronounced sagittal crest on this opossum.

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The human female says that is where all the jaw muscles are attached.  It certainly looks capable of eating anything it finds.  Opossums are strange creatures–tails like rats, huge rafs of babies which they tote about in pouches or on their backs, fur that always looks like they’ve been washed in the washer on the wrong cycle, and a predilection for rummaging about in compost heaps.

I am more impressed by the dentition of this male vervet monkey.

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This fellow looks quite up to the task of perforating anyone who tried to put him in a funny outfit or make him do silly tricks.  And the overall effect is of a toothy little human.

Great Frigga’s hairpins!  Look who has turned up!  Marty, that goggle-eyed menace, has dropped by to ogle the chicken skull.

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I don’t want to think about what Marty’s skull might look like.  Not much room for a brain, that’s for certain.

Oh, and here is Fisi, trying to sneak in a nibble on the oppossum.

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Shoo!  Bad hyena!  No biscuit!

Sweet Tony Stark on the half shell!  What sort of alien mutant nightmare beast does this one come from?!

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Don’t get too close, Sigyn.  I don’t trust this thing at all.

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poke, poke, poke.

No sirree. I do not trust this thing at all, at all.  Nor can I figure out its modus operandi.  No proper teeth to speak of, but what about these long pincer-like things up front?  What IS it?  Where does it live?  What does it eat?  What does the rest of it look like??

Oh, I am going to have bad dreams and flashbacks about this one, I can tell you.

(Reads label.)  Huh.  I never, ever would have guessed.  Log your guesses in the comments, folks, and we’ll see if anyone comes close.

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A Bit of the Booty (In Which Sigyn Misbehaves Just a Little Bit)

Sigyn was so cute in her swashbuckling outfit that she made out like a bandit true pirate.  There was the usual haul of wrapped candy sweets but, down at the bottom of the bag, there was also…this.

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Dearest, what in Midgard IS this?  It is sparkly enough to be a Yule ornament, but it doesn’t have a hanger.  Is it food?  A decoration?  I’m not sure I trust it.

Open it up and see…

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Ah.  It is, according to Sigyn, a very highly decorated sugar cookie in the shape of a pumpkin.  Really?  No pumpkin I ever saw was those colors—and none of them sparkled.

But how does it taste?  Quite often, fancy cookies are all about the decorations and, underneath all the frosting and furbelows, taste like glorified cardboard.

Great Frigga’s corset!  It must have been delicious because there is not a crumb left.  Tasted of vanilla and lemon, you say?  Good to know, though you couldn’t prove it by me.

Thank you, Sigyn.  Thank you for sharing.

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Sadly, Not Actually Banished…

It’s still hotter than Muspelheim outdoors, the humans are working hard and often get out of the office late, and neither of them feels like cooking.  It’s no surprise then, that “out” is often on the menu.  With the students gone now, between semesters, it’s a good time to try one of the new eateries in town.  I am enthusiastic, because I overheard the female utter the words, “Ban me.”  I have good hopes that the proprietors will take one look at her ugly haircut, her unfortunate visage, and her table “manners” and I’ll get to see them toss her out of their establishment.

It’s a smallish cafe with a limited menu.  Sandwiches feature prominently.  The human male has chosen one that seems to involve meatballs.

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Poke, poke, poke.  Not sure what the green stuff is.

Sigyn says the female’s has “lemongrassy beef, pickled veggies, and ‘nummy’  pâté .”

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That sounds…odd, but the bread is good.  Nice and crusty.

This place is big on cold drinks, too, which is almost more important than food this time of year.   The human female has selected a pineapple slushie.

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The male has a mango smoothie.  Not sure why the lid says “tea time”…

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Some of the other drinks have what looks like a good handful of little balls in the bottom.  Tiny grapes?  Bubblegum?  Ball bearing tea?  I have no idea.  I don’t trust it.

Well, the humans and Sigyn seem to be enjoying the food, but this has been a bust for me.  No one has made any move to eject the human female.

One final note:  the decor here is minimal.  A colorful blackboard wall.  A plant or two.  An old-timey lantern.  I’ve seen enough.  Come on, Sigyn, let’s g—

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Sigh.  Hang on, sweetie, Loki’s coming.  And then let’s leave, before we ALL get thrown out.

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Loki Takes New York, Day 7: The Human Female Has Gone Walkabout

The human male’s knee is bothering him even more today, because he didn’t take it as easy as he should yesterday.  The human female, who I suspect has NO nurturing instincts whatsoever, rather than stay at the hotel to take care of him, has gotten it into her head to explore some of the outer reaches of the city on her own.  Apparently she wants to look at places in some book she read.

As hare-brained as that notion is, I actually like this plan.  Divide and conquer.  If I tag along, I can annoy her without the human male interfering.  And maybe I can get her good and lost.  That would be fun!

So here we are, on the 7 train headed for one of the eastern bouroughs.  Sign has joined us because she heard the female talking about a garden.  “Garden” is the magic Sigyn word.  It works even better than “please.”

We have arrived.  But where are we?  Mortal, are you sure we are in the right city?  And not in some foreign country?  I can’t read any of the signs!  (Well, all right.  That one down there says, “pharmacy,” but what about the others?!)

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There are a number of fruit sellers, and on this blazing hot day, their succulent wares are quite tempting, but again, I can’t read what anything is.  Those look like watermelons, but who knows what’s inside?

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I think the human really may be lost.  She has been standing on the street for a quarter of an hour now, alternately checking the map on her phone, the file of landmarks on her phone, and the “you are here” signpost on the sidewalk.  (Of course, it doesn’t help that I magicked the sign on the post so that it has north at the bottom.)  It’s gonna take her a while to figure it all out.

Rats and hurrah!   She has discovered my little trick and correctly oriented herself (boo!), but she has achieved her destination and Sigyn is happy.

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This place is rather pretty for a site that used to be an ash and slag heap.  You see what can be done with a little effort, mortal?  This should fire you up and go home and do something with that disgrace you call a “garden.”

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There is a quaint little bridge over a tiny waterfall.  It feels very good to be in the shade after traipsing about and riding the subway all day.

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The calendar is suspended somewhere between spring and summer.  Sigyn calls this “spiraea-dangling season.”

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And if you can’t find spiraea, fringe-tree will do.

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I cannot decide which is more photogenic, this pale-flowered sweet shrub…

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… or my beloved Sigyn.

Sigyn is wishing that peonies would grow back in Texas.

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Sorry, beloved, there are some things even my magic cannot achieve.

We might be able to do something about roses, though.  This is an inspiring collection.

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Well, how rude!  Some group of wealthy mortals has rented out a good portion of this garden for a private party!  The temporary “no entry” signs are almost as annoying as their loud rap “music.”  For depriving my sweetie of the opportunity to enjoy the entirety of this place, I think they will now find that the wedding cake is actually frosted styrofoam and the punch has salt instead of sugar

(later)  After much walking and more time spent on the subway (which is not actually subterranean this far from city center) and some more walking, we have now reached one of the other places the human female has read about.

The International Night Market springs up each Saturday evening like a toadstool after rain.

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No one gets in ahead of official opening time when this gorgon is on guard duty!

At last it is time to wander in.  Various morsels and concoctions are filling the air with delicious aromas.  We could, if we chose, dine on octopus balls or shark sandwiches.

Sigyn has elected to try this arepa instead, apparently because she thinks the word is fun to say.  “Arepa.”  “Arrepa.”  “Arrrrepa!”   Good for r-rolling practice, if nothing else.

Sigyn, what even is this?!  poke, poke, poke.  I don’t trust it. 

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(nibble.)  Ah.  It is a corn griddle cake of some sort, topped with a crumbly, tangy cheese.  Not bad, but not very satisfying if one has a craving for meat.  I think I saw a grilled steak booth in the last row…  I shall return.

We have now looked at all the food booths and browsed in the wares that are for sale.  We are hot, tired, and ready for a cool shower.  Sigyn, let us teleport back to the inn and leave the human female to slog her way back to the train station, endure a lengthy cross-town ride, and then slog from the train station back to the room.

Then, when she does some of the accumulated laundry in the inn’s washroom, I’ll see to it that the dryer stops after five minutes and eats up aaaall her quarters…

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Loki Takes New York, Day 2: In Which I Am Grudgingly Impressed

This is our first full day in the Big Pear  (Banana?  Some fruit or other.  I can’t be bothered to keep track of botany. That’s the human female’s thing.)

Our first order of business is an early lunch (we are getting a bit of late start today.)  One block over and two blocks down, the humans have located an eatery named “Tabouleh.”  That sounds uncomfortably close to “taboo.”  Perhaps some of the items on the menu are forbidden to certain people?  Illicit foodstuffs.  Sounds intriguing.

Sounds risky.

The human female has ordered something called “chicken shwarma.”  Shwarma… I seem to recall sitting chained to a lightpost a few blocks over from here, with nothing but bread and water while my stupid brother and his friends ate “shwarma.”

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The human female says it is delicious.  I don’t trust it.

The human male has chosen today’s activity.  On the west side of this island is a mostly-floating museum.  One part of it consists of a small, very cramped submersible ship, intriguingly named “The Growler,” which we have just toured.

I had not realized before today just how un-fond I am of narrow, metal, green-painted surroundings.

Sigyn thought it was “cozy.”

A second part of the museum consists of a broad plaza which houses this sleek and pointy aircraft.

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They tell me it could fly several times the speed of sound.  I suppose if one cannot teleport that might come in handy.  When I come to rule this realm, I shall have a fleet of such airships, because I refuse to waste good magic on minions and whatnot.

A building at the end of the plaza houses an aircraft which the human male says was the prototype for a fleet which used to routinely fly to space and back.  That sounds (as they say) “hinky” to me.  The whole galaxy knows that Midgardians have scarce made it off this rock.

The remainder of the collection is actually housed on board an enormous ship the size of a small town.  All sorts of flying vessels line the deck.

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I like this one.  It looks wickedly efficient.  The skull-and-crossbones flag is a nice touch, though if I…appropriate this craft I will need to replace it with something a little more “Loki.”

No! Wait.  This one!

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Sleek, black, and stealthy as my heart.   Come to Loki, you sweet thing.

Inside the ship/museum, there are many other exhibits, including a helicopter cockpit in which one can sit.

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Somehow, it does not seem to have been designed for someone of my kingly stature.

(later)  It is now after nightfall.  We appear to be strolling aimlessly about.  The human female calls it “getting a feel for the neighborhood.”

I call it “getting lost.”

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I gather that it is possible to ascend to the top of this imposing edifice–for a price. The humans intend to do just that, so that they can have a view of this whole metropolis at once.  Tickets are pricey and difficult to obtain.  I will have to see what I can do…

…to thwart them.

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Play With the Food/Eat the Toys—What’s the Diff?

The human female’s tall, somewhat spooky nephew…

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…who, from this getup, looks like he might be employed in the nearest local steampunk abattoir, actually has a job in a cute little sweet shop.  In the spirit of familial playfulness, and considering certain important people’s color preferences, he has brought home a selection of red and green delectables.

These remind me of something, but for the life of me, I can’t think what…

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I have constructed for myself a regal throne.

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It’s a bit knobbly to sit on, but it has the advantage of being nommable if you get a bit peckish while you’re reigning.

Sigyn, on the other hand, likes animals so much that she’s made herself a zebra.

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Or maybe it’s a llama.  Or a horsey.  Or, since it is Yule-colored, I guess  even “reindeer” is not out of the question.

This candy’s neither red nor green.  It’s a suspicious shade of brown.

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Great Frigga’s corset, Sigyn!   Don’t lick it!  You don’t know what it is or where it’s been!

You managed to eat your way through to the middle already?!  That was fast.

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Sigyn says it tastes just like banana bread inside.  Interesting.

Ah. Gummi bears.   Everyone likes gummi bears.

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Your little bears are very cute, my dear, but look at this one!

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Rawr!!!  Now that’s a bear!

Sweet glittering Bifrost!  This one’s even BIGGER!  

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I just hope we can outrun it if it decides to be fierce!

Luckily, it appears to be a gentle giant.

Sigyn, where did you get the itsy-bitsy bears?  Now you can tell the Story of Four Bears–Papa Bear, Mama Bear (who appears to be having a bit of a nap), Wee Tiny Baby Bear, and Baby Bear’s Even Tinier Sister.

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Now one fine day, the morning breakfast was too hot.  “This porridge is too hot,” said Papa Bear.  “This porridge is too hot,” said Mama Bear.  “This porridge is too hot,” said Baby Bear.  “Ah babababa goo!” said Tiniest Bear, who couldn’t talk yet.

So all four bears went for a walk in the forest while the porridge cooled.  They had just turned for home, when suddenly…

…a big Giant came down and made Mrs. Bear into a widow!

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Wow, that went to a dark place in a hurry…

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I Require Sustenance!

All of this museuming and fabric-fondling (not to mention Sigyn-rescuing) has given me an appetite.  I demand to be fed!

Well, that worked better than I hoped.  We are going out to dinner!  The human female’s sister insists that that was always the plan. Suuuure it was.

We are now seated in a place called Haji’s.  It is a smallish place, part store, part cafe. The menu seems to feature cuisine from some other part of the planet.

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Falafil.  Shawerma.  Tabooooli.  I have no real idea what these are.  Some of the words are just fun to say.

Mmm.  It certainly smells good.  What do you think, Sigyn?  Chicken grilled on a skewer and some salady bits?

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The human female’s mother has ordered a mixed plate of nibbly things–stuffed grape leaves, some of the falafil balls, some beige stuff, and some green stuff.

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(poke, poke, poke)  I don’t trust it.

The food has all come with a shaker of spice to sprinkle over the top.

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Sigyn dearly wants to climb inside to have a taste and no doubt need rescuing, but in this case, the screw top is a powerful barrier.  No rescuing needed!  We can enjoy our feast in peace.

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