Thursday, September 16, 2010

Mangled Myths (a division of Fractured Fairy Tales)

A little nonsense now and then ...

The last winged horse, the kind that could fly one directly to heaven, had to be put down after breaking a leg in a stakes race on Mt. Olympus in 823 A.D.   They tried to splint the thing, but horses being what they are, it wouldn't stay off its feet, and they sent it to the celestial glue factory. Tragic really.

Since then all the Valkyrie have taken to riding mountain bikes.  It’s really got them in shape too.  Traditionally they carried a lot of body mass, but now they all have flat stomachs, legs like gymnasts and shoulders like Olympic swimmers. They can’t go anywhere without being hit on by unwed demigods, (male and female alike who can still live up to their ancient reputations if you know what I mean).

Sadly though, when they lost the weight, they lost their famous upper vocal range.  They just can't quite hit the high notes of Wagner anymore.  Now when they ride down Bifrost singing wildly, its usually some soul or Motown tune—Aretha Franklin mostly—which they bring off quite well.   They tried ABBA once, and while the Scandinavian angle seemed like a good fit at first, it just didn’t work out.  Nobody, and I mean nobody wanted to be born aloft in glory from the battlefield to Dancing Queen.

In spite of their new found fitness, the braided maidens really missed their horses.  Out of sympathy the Aasgard dwarves tricked out their bikes with these amazing Gotterdammerung and Ragnarok paint jobs that burst into billowing smoke and fire when they ride.  They undid their braids to let their golden hair stream behind their helms, and they wear dark Oakley wrap-arounds.   Its no longer opera and noble steeds across the Rainbow Bridge, but they get their point across.  When a warrior falls in battle, they bear him home: a swarm of stunning, frenzied bike couriers.

Out of your league dude, trust me

Every Valkyrie used to wear a gilded breastplate that was at least a DD-cup, but after trimming down most aren’t more than a “C” these days.  Once some sexist old deity tried to get cute about it with that "more than a mouthful is wasted darlings" wisecrack, but the buff heralds of Woden all carry much heavier spears and shields than in the old days. They opened a can of whup-ass on him like you never saw, all the while singing What you want, baby I got it, and You-better-think-(THINK!)-think-about-what-your-tryin-to-do-to-me.  Somehow word of it reached humanity, and this German philosopher Fred Nishy (I think that was the name) reported the deity didn’t survive.  Not so.  He’s just in rehab with his jaw wired shut, living on a diet of burnt-offering smoothies--totally sworn off women.  He tries to say, “I am the LORD thy GOD”, but it comes out “Hy-uma-HOR-eye-GAH”.  Its hard to take him seriously, especially if he's just made that slurping sound with his straw in an empty cup.  Since then the Valkyrie get R-E-S-P-E-C-T, and plenty of it...even from the demigods.

1 comment:

  1. We want Antonia! We want Antonia! We want Antonia! (Although we DID enjoy your Fractured Fairy Tale....)