Distracted Vikings
As Tomas
sat in the back of the boat working on a crossword puzzle, he didn’t feel much
like a Viking. The week before the team
leader, Blargo, had made them all stand in front of a full-length mirror,
everyone dressed in full Norse raiding party attire, hold aloft their weapon
(either a broadsword or an axe), and shout, “Elifi kar Bligeldgarn!” Tomas liked the way the horns on his helmet
diminished the relative size of his ears, but otherwise he felt stupid. He glanced up from trying to figure out a
nine-letter word whose clue was, “homosexual rapist of note,” and wondered how
much longer it would be until they reached the shore where the monastery was
located.
“Come on,
guys,” Blargo encouraged the team, “In the old days the Vikings would spend a
couple of weeks at sea sometimes, eating miserable food and sleeping in their
seats, all for the chance at plunder and glory!”
“I’m still
waiting to see a sea monster!” Phil, who had taken time off from his job as a
barber for this trip, called out.
“You will!”
Blargo promised. “Let’s try to keep up
the motivation here!”
Phil turned
his gaze to the horizon. He had to “go
to the bathroom” again, as he still euphemistically phrased it. But he was trying to hold out. He was tired of hanging his naked backside
over the edge of the boat.
Tomas shut
his crossword puzzle book with a deep sigh.
What was the point, he asked himself.
Without a firm belief in the existence of Valhalla ,
how could he be expected to die for the cause?
.
