purveyor of pens

These Trips Get Shorter and Shorter, Part II: Finally, Some Merchandise to Fit My Needs

As I suspected, our first stop in the Big City to the South is the Purveyor of Pens.  This is where the humans and their bachelor friend will spend an interminable amount of time sampling inks, trying out pens they can afford, trying out pens they can’t afford and shouldn’t be messing with, and abandoning Sigyn and me to entertain ourselves while they dither and dawdle.  Come on, people!  How many scribing tools does one mortal need?

Hmmm.  I have discovered something on one counter which, while not pen-related and not actually for sale, is certainly something I could use.

I really, really like this sign.

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No, wait!  I want this one!  When I take over Midgard, I will have this sitting, front and center, on my enormous desk, right near where supplicants must stand.

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Right over the trap door into the dungeon…

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Sigyn and the Tiny Shinies

Our second stop in the Big City to the South is Spice Shop Number Two.  We have managed to secure a parking spot right in front of the establishment!

Which appears to have been de-establishedSo sorry, human male!  Looks like you will have to order your urfa chilies online from now on.  You will have to console yourself with a trip to the Purveyor of Pens, which is fortuitously just in the next block.

Sigyn and the human female are taking this opportunity to have a good snoop in the bead shop which is next door to the defunct spicery.

Now, keep in mind the human female does not need any more beads.  She has bags and boxes and jars and strings and hanks of beads.  She and Sigyn must be part magpie, though, because it has taken them approximately ten seconds to dive into the broken- strand bin and start swimming.



Though I saw to it that they did not emerge with the bronze-colored jump rings the human female initially entered the store for, they have emerged with quite a haul.  There are three strands of faceted beads with the matching larger beads that they had to sift the loose beads for.


I heard the human female counting to fifty and muttering something about “decades”.  I can only assume that that is how long it’s going to take her to actually finish the project.

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Of Pens, Panic, and Noodles

No visit to the Big City to the South would be complete without a visit to the Purveyor of Pens.  The human male and his friend (who has accompanied us on this jaunt) are busy debating the merits of various inks and pens.  I’m not terribly interested in such and am amusing myself by mixing up all the jars of pre-filled pens so that each has three or four different kinds, none of which correspond to the label.

Sigyn is enjoying the fresh flowers that the proprietors tend to have.


Now she has wandered toward the uncharted territory that is the back of the store.  Looks like she is making some new friends.


Not sure what those bearded geezers are doing in a pen shop.  Perhaps they are hear to buy nibs.

(Later:)  The humans have finally finished buying more scribing supplies than anyone could possibly need.  Since it is lunchtime, they have decided that we should check out the eating establishment across the street.  Looks like we can easily place our orders and get a table and


Now the brainless female has run back to the pen store and searched by the flowers and has not found her–and is panicking, and rightfully so!  If my beloved has been kidnapped is in any other way harmed in the slightest, I will make the human female’s short, miserable, mortal life even shorter and much more miserable.

The human female has returned, despondent, to the noodle house.  Luckily, one of the party at our table has a brain.   All it takes is my pointing out to the female that she has, in fact, got a photo of Sigyn talking to those skeezy pixies.  Back she runs, and yes, there Sigyn is, singing little songs with them and not at all aware that she has sent three mortals and one Jotun into heart failure.

I think we all need some hot noodles as a restorative.


Ah, here’s our order.  Lemongrass chicken vermicelli bowl.  Looks good.


Fun fact:  The word “vermicelli” is based on a root meaning “worms.”  Watch me change the human female’s vermicelli into the real thing mid-mouthful.

Now that’s a face.

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The Mini-est of Breaks, Part III: Pens and Pastry

You would think that the humans had eaten as much as they possibly could, but no! The human female and the blue-haired god-daughter have decided to take advantage of this rare trip to the Big City to the South to try out a highly-touted pastry shop.  Let us join them, Sigyn.  There is always room for puff pastry.

It’s a very fancy, Frenchy bakery.  Even the little buildings on the tray have teeny little French signs.


The human female, while tempted by the almond cake with apricots or pears, has opted for something she calls “stroodle.”  That sounds like plumbing backing up!

Oh, I see.  It’s just fancy apple pie.  Sigyn, you’ll like that.  (I am over being jealous of apple cake and apple-cake makers.  Mostly.)


The blue-haired god-daughter is endeavoring to eat a cream puff roughly the size of her fist.  It’s very squishy.


I don’t know whether to help her eat it or to just flop on it and have a bit of a postprandial nap.

The human male and the friends have ended up down the street in the premises of the Purveyor of Pens and we have now joined them. The human male is looking for inks and the female is just poking.

I am still looking for the perfect green ink.


Sigyn, of course, wants red.


Ehehehehehe!   Some of the ink and pen-cleaner labels are miniature works of art.


Volstagg’s triple chin!  Look!  The friendly proprietors have set out pizza, cake, and some wildly decorated doughnuts!


The females could have skipped the pastry and had their sugar fix here!  (But breakfast cereal on a doughnut?!  Who does that?)

Ehehehehe–the human female has tried a cute little fountain pen–and I made it leak on her!  Yes, we’ve been here before, and yes, the human female has come away with inky fingers before, but it still makes me giggle every time.

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