Sunday, December 30, 2012

The... aftermath.

If you’ve never seen the Minnesota Vikings play, they like all professional sports teams have game day traditions.  As soon as the Viking horn played the trolls changed.
That sound seemed to mesmerize them. Before the echo left the dome, they stood shoulder to shoulder at attention, silent, eyes wet with tears.

“Home…,” Venn murmured. Viking horn audio

I couldn’t believe it. The Packers took the field along with the purple wearing Vikings.

“Vikings,” they all said in unison.

“Okay, so the Vikings are in purple and Packers are in yellow,” I explained, attempting to make them understand, but they couldn’t tell the difference. In their old world  troll minds,  all the armor wearing humans were fierce Viking warriors.

Kickoff, and the players flew down the field straight at each other until POW. Bodies pounded in to each other, play over.  Still nothing from the trolls. I started to worry.

Slowly Oton broke ranks and walked up to the screen.  His held his grubby hand out until making contact, “Ugh, cold.”

“It’s called Television,” I said.

Quickly he walked around the back looking for the players I assumed.

“What magic is this? Rebecca, you have entrapped hundreds of Vikings in your bright shiny box.”

Uh oh. “No, it’s a picture. These humans are hundreds of miles from here. This magic box is a window into that far away building.”

“Ohhhhhh,” they said.

The novelty of the TV gone, Oton stepped back with the others. It didn’t take long before they were all deeply involved in the battle unfolding before the Sorceress Rebecca.

 I have to admit I kinda like my new title.

I quickly introduced them to my favorite warrior, Clay Matthews, and they all easily agreed he did indeed bear a striking resemblance to a Nordic God.  The rules of the game were out the door. They simply didn’t understand, and frankly with the game going badly for the Packers, I rather enjoyed their version of events.

By the time it was over, they were tired, and happy. Everything was going great until the commentator said the same two teams will meet next week in Green Bay (since my beloved Pack failed to seal a first round by in the playoffs).

Last thing I heard as I dropped them off at the river was “see you next week, we’ll bring the rat.”

Oh, goodie.
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