Fighting Words




“Where is Sigyn? What have you done with her? If you’ve harmed one hair on her precious head—”

“Your paramour is quite intact. And she can stay that way. It’s up to you.”

“Say what you mean, you inferior copy!”


“Ah, ah, ah. Do you really want to insult the one who is holding your sweetheart and all the cards? You really are incredibly stupid. No wonder you’ve failed so spectacularly at taking over this realm. From what I can tell, you’ve spent all your time playing piddling parlor tricks on the humans and mooning after your girlfriend. Well, you’ve had your chance. It’s my turn now. Midgard is mine. I’ve got what it takes to rule. If you kneel to me and abandon your plans, you can have your precious Sigyn back. If not, the only way to her is through me. That is my bargain.”

“Send your army away. This is between you and me.”

“And have your rag-tag followers free Sigyn while we play patty-cake? Not a chance.”

“Have it your way. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Good, that will make this more fun.”


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Mischief update

I’ve been fairly busy. Nothing major, you understand. Just enough to let the human female and her cohorts know that I’m not to be trifled with. Mischief level 6.

The Great Temperature Wars at the workplace rage on. I’m still knocking out the heating and/or cooling at least once per week. This week, I took the chillers off-line, so things got very warm. When the Fixers came to Fix things, whatever they did made some sort of unsettling burning-electrics smell. Such odors make the building’s occupants more than slightly skittish, so this is how we spent the last hour of the workday:


The human female, officious wench that she is, derived a great deal of pleasure from telling passersby that they could not go down the sidewalk because there was a Fire Emergency of indeterminate origin in the building.

On another day, I may have dropped a whisper in a student”s ear that this simple item of lab equipment:


When introduced into an electrical socket, produces an exciting noise and a lovely light show. They ALWAYS end up trying it, resulting in more unsettling burning-electrics smells.

This was not my doing:–296337441.html–296337441.html. However, as irate as the faculty are and as much trouble as they are having with little things like filing income taxes and combating identity theft, I think I may have to brush up on my hacking skills, as the Return on Investment, mischief-wise, appears to be very great for this sort of thing.

But I was responsible for some domestic trouble. This morning, I induced the feline to hop up on the coffee table (strictly forbidden) and leave something more than a cat-bum-print upon a freshly written letter to the humans’ friend in a foreign realm. Her after-hours howling is going very well, too.

I have sown weeds in the front lawn, helped one of the human female’s favorite houseplants to that great compost bin in the sky, and altered the contents of two library books so that what looked like an interesting read in the library turned out to be–what’s the term the human female uses?– ah, yes: “drek.”

It is the season for “floppies,” large, awkwardly-flapping insects which blunder in and bounce around each evening. They can get in through any open door or window, and I do like to be hospitable. The feline finds them fun to chase, and I am often rewarded with the pounce-gobble-barf sequence that annoys the humans most.

That’s about it. I think I’ll go buy something inappropriate from an online auction using her ID and password. I’m thinking bright green, sequins, and a death metal band logo…

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