Vikings lack tune and love corn. Fuck 'em allSubmitted by w_t_a_y_s_t_r_m at 2009-08-24 12:34:24 EDT
Rating: 1.61 on 35 ratings (35 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
Part One: http://www.ubersite.com/m/123113
My mind was yelling at me to turn and run away, to get away from danger. At the same time my sense of false bravado wouldn’t let me. When I finally realised that I’m a complete pussy when face with a leader of one of the fiercest race of warriors in history I slowly turned to return to my desk.
I was faced by the eager eyes of the remaining members of staff, all looking at me with a new found respect. Unfamiliar at being looked at in such a way (I was more familiar with disdain, contempt and sometimes confused lust) I gave a confident smile, nodded and then winked at Lucy. I instantly regretted picking her, but she was the first female I saw. After another quick scan I saw about 15 more attractive and less desperate women.
Lucy, on the other hand, was a beast of a girl. Not just large or unattractive, but large and unattractive and boring and annoying and loud and pretty much easy, if only someone would stoop so low. Poor bitch, but I do fucking hate her. She’s so annoying. And I had just made her think she was the most attractive woman in the office.
“Maybe now’s a good time to die, after all” I thought to myself, turning back around and walking carefully up to the leader of the Vikings.
“Are you lady or man?” He asked.
“What the fuck?” Instinct had taken over for a split second which ended in absolute fear.
“The chin be that of a woman.” He said, slightly puzzled. “And the hair be that of a woman. But the body be that of a man. Which are you?”
“Man!” I protested. “I’ve just had a shave for a change.” I could feel the rage boiling inside, while the fear was yelling at it to shut the fuck up and run away. “And you all have long hair!”
“Aye!” The leader yelled, raising his clay mug of ale. “But it is not lady like.” He shook his head violently; head butting the blade of his axe like it was nothing. His rug of knotted, matted and dirty hair rocked around, dirt flying off it in all directions like a dust bunny exploding. Behind him all his men did the same around the fire.
“Obviously you’ve never heard of Jim Morrison.” I said with pride. He tilted his head to the side, more confusion.
“Any of you men heard of this one...?” He turned back to me.
“Jim Morrison.” I reminded him. By now the pride had slipped, the rage had completely disappeared and all I was left with was proper, piss-yourself levels of absolute fear.
“Aye, Jim Morrison?” He was greeted by blank looks from all his people. After a few seconds he turned back to me. “None of us appear to know of this Jim Morrison.”
I spent the next few minutes trying to convince him that my hair was more rock star than woman, using Jim Morrison as an example. I spent the following few minutes trying to explain what a rock star was. This eventually turned into a conversation about all modern types of music, which was just exhausting as they didn’t seem able to grasp the idea.
“Surely you people must have some sort of music? Songs? Tunes? Anything?”
“Songs!” He turned back to his men, putting a massive arm around my shoulders and dragging me with him.
Taking the spot I was forced into, I sat next to him around the fire as he and his men suddenly burst into song. I didn’t understand the language, they were completely out of tune and it sounded fucking terrible. It went on for at least five minutes, and when they finished (which was after a two minute cheer and chug of ale) the leader turned back to me.
“So?” He sounded so happy with himself. “Better than rock?”
“Sure.” I lied as quickly as I could. “What was it about? Raping? Pillaging?”
“Of course not. There’s no time for singing during the rape and the pillage! It was about corn!” There was a great cheer from all around.
“Seriously?” I asked. “Corn?”
The following few moments were a blur. It started with me laughing at the concept of singing about corn. My girlfriend can attest that when I get told to stop laughing at something it just makes me worse. Eventually I was uncontrollable, tears streaming from my eyes.
Something that was never taught in school was how seriously Vikings take their corn. But maybe I learnt the best way, in a way that I would never forget. The sharp end of an axe is probably the best teacher I’ve ever had. Thanks to my quick thinking and ability to fall of a stool better than anyone I’ve ever met I managed to survive.
This was followed by a desperate scrabble back to my half of the office with roars and battle cries close behind me. My hands had just crossed the line when I saw out of the corner of my eye one of the smaller Vikings swinging a sword high above me, about to bring it down into my skull.
At the last second I felt a hard pull on my hands, dragging me back to my own side of the office. I looked up to thank my saviour and looked straight into the eyes of Lucy. She slowly pulled me to my feet and put her hands on my shoulders.
“Yuck!” I screamed in her face. I actually meant to say thanks, but after the trauma I’d just gone through I couldn’t keep proper control.
“Asshole!” Lucy yelled at me through her disgusting face, and then threw the lump of her body at me to try and push me back over the threshold where the row of Vikings were stood yelling for me.
With a smooth sidestep I dodged Lucy, whose own momentum took across the line. Instantly she was grabbed by all the waiting men and dragged away screaming. The leader stayed in his spot, toes next to the line.
“Ever cross into this office again...” He said, menacingly under his breath. “Or I ever see again, you will be destroyed.”
“If you keep Lucy, we’ll call it a deal.”