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Second Floor Common Room, Early Monday Evening

Jono and Alice had decided to tempt fate, which was not generally seen as a good idea by those who are completely sane and rational.

This might explain why ~~Jono and Alice~~ Olaf and Brunhilda were standing in the second floor common room, in full Viking regalia, singing what might (if one were tone deaf and generous) pass for a rendition of some form of opera. Possibly something Wagnerian.

"Hojotoho! Hojotoho! Heiaha! Heiaha!"

Someday, they would reach the roof! And from there, sail to Valhalla! But for now, they needed to stand here and sing for a few more acts!

(Jono modded with permission! Open as CRs are! Opera done badly while you wait!)

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Well, technically, ~~Jono~~ Olaf wasn't singing. He was doing something that seemed suspiciously like a psychic war yodel, waving around a crude cardboard cutout that was supposed to resemble a sword.

It did, more or less.

And see, Ben? That Thor helmet that you made him has finally come in handy for something.

//To WIKTORY, Brunhilda!//

"And to wiktory in war!" she chorused proudly. "We war, we war to Valhalla, and to Valhalla we fight war!"

Did opera really need sensible lyrics? That was not really the point of opera to begin with.

"Heiaha! Heiaha! Hojotoho!"

It was nice that her metallic valkyrie girdle was on over her regular clothes. She was still rather Victorian to be showing all of that cleavage.

A Victorian Viking and a goth one. What was the world coming to?

//Heiaha! Heiaha! Hojotoho! Have oxen been hitched to pillaging cart, Brunhilda?!//

One must never forget one's oxen and pillaging cart when one is about to wage war, after all.

"Ohhhhhhhh, my Olaf!" Brunhilda sang mournly. "Whyyyyyyyyyyyy must you pillage? Why must you war? Our baby should know his faaaaaaaaaaaaather!"

Hopefully, Didi would not find out about Brunhilda's immaculate conception. Perhaps the pregnancy mood swings were to blame for Brunhilda's sudden pacifist stance?

//No, Brunhilda!// Olaf's sword waved about in the air somewhat, gleaming and true. And a little floppily. It was cardboard, after all. //It is for baby that I must! For baby, and for Valhalla!//

And for Odin! And for the proud name of OLAF!

//And for SPAM!//

"For baaaaaaaaaaaaaby!" Brunhilda declared, her hands over her heart as she looked up towards the sky. Or, really, the common room ceiling. "For Val-haaaaaaaaaaal-la! Und for spaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam!"

Any minute now, Brunhilda would run out of breath, and spare everyone from the ear-splitting tragedy that was her failure to hit that note.

Jono was going to be listening to very, very soft classical music tomorrow at work in order to nurse the headache, quite likely.

Olaf, however, was going to do his damnedest to contribute to that headache.

By leaping dramatically onto the couch, where he was going to stand, putting one foot up on the armrest and continuing to aim that sword ahead of himself, pointing without question in the direction of victory! Victory for baby and Valhalla and Olaf and Spam!

//Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, lovely Spam! Wonderful Spam!//

Olaf was getting Monty Python in his Wagner. He did not seem too terribly concerned.

"Leeeeeeeap tooooooooo the couch!" Brunhilda insisted, waving her hands with flourishment. "Declaaaaaaaaaare your love for spam! Spaaaaaaaaaaam shall be our baby's name but only for a boy!"

Naming a girl Spam? That was just silly.

And at that, the music in Olaf's head ground to a screeching halt for a moment.

//Of course baby is boy, Brunhilda. Baby will be strong like Olaf, and will pillage and destroy many helpless villages on his quest to become a fine warrior! Like Olaf!//

"I want girl!" Brunhilda announced with a decided pout. "Name her Olga! Put pretty braids in her hair! She will tend the oxen and milk the cows! Baby will stay with Brunhilda while Olaf goes off to war again!"

Were those cracks showing, in the perfect marriage of Brunhilda and Olaf? THE DRAMA!

//Olaf has spoken, Brunhilda!// And there went Olaf, putting his foot down on the deck of his fierce Viking warship-couch. It sank to his ankle between the cushions. He paid it no notice. //Olaf will have son! To come to war with Olaf and carry on strong family name!//

Olafson. Strong and proud Spam Olafson, son of Olaf. And Brunhilda.

"No!" Brunhilda announced, stamping her foot on the carpeting in the common room. "Brunhilda will not give Olaf a son! Brunhilda does not care what Olaf wants! Olaf never cares what Brunhilda wants! Olaf doesn't appreciate Brunhilda!"

Their glorious wiktory was going to be temporarily derailed by a marital spat.

You could tell Olaf was completely flabbergasted by this accusation by the way he waved his floppy cardboard sword madly through the air.

//VAS? Brunhilda think Olaf not care? Olaf is begging to differ! Olaf spend many long nights pillaging and plundering for Brunhilda! Brings home much good grog, strong oxen, beautiful virgins!//

Wait. Those were for Olaf, not for Brunhilda.

No matter!

//Olaf think it is Brunhilda who does not appreciate trouble Olaf goes through for her! Only the finest spoils of war for my Bunhilda! Son is not much to ask for this!//

"Brunhilda was beautiful virgin once," Brunhilda sniffed. "Now Brunhilda is fat with Olaf's baby, and Olaf tosses Brunhilda aside for grog and virgins, pillaging and plundering."

Brunhillda needed to sit down and get a good, proper mope started.

"Olaf not deserve son."

//Olaf did not want to spend life pillaging and plundering for Brunhilda's comfort!//

Olaf was going to cross his arms over his chest, rather brutally demolishing his trusty sword in the gesture.

//Olaf is warrior and plunderer because it provides best life there is for Brunhilda! Olaf has made sacrifices, so that Brunhilda can have finest spoils of war, and strongest, most woolly yak!//

Brunhilda wasn't the only one who could work up a good sulk, here.

//Olaf wanted to be accountant instead.//

Brunhilda looked at her husband, with wide, shining eyes.

"Brunhilda would love Olaf even if Olaf was accountant," Brunhilda promised. "Olaf could stay home, work on taxes, raise proud son to carry on financial name."

Olaf seemed swayed by this gracious outpouring of heartfelt something-or-other. His eyes seemed to glisten slightly, but no, no, that could only have been the lighting.

//Or daughter,// Olaf replied. //Olaf would raise daughter to be relentless warrior of stock market. Would bring crushing blows to enemies on Wall Street with both financial savvy and priceless heirloom family battle-axe. In mornings, Brunhilda could braid daughter's hair and help her get into high heels and steel breastplate.//

Edited 2010-02-16 02:55 (UTC)

"Olafina," Brunhilda said proudly. "Olafina, proud fighter of warships and wiktory. Leveraging her investments against the fluctuations of the market. Wielding the mighty axe of hostile takeovers. Olafina, and Brunhildagarde, and Brunolaf, and Hilda. Olaf and Brunhilda have many children! Each with own mutual fund!"

Something very DEFINITELY Wagnerian peered into the common room, drawn by the bad singing. "Was ist das?" Kurt asked, softly.

"Bravely, bravely, Vikings to war!" Brunhilda sang loudly. Because opera was better when you made up extra lyrics. Especially insipid ones. "Come, my noble coun-try-man! Val-hal-la awaiiiiiiits!"

Just because she couldn't exactly hit that note wasn't going to keep her from holding it. For a very long time.

//First, we take England,// Olaf added, though his singsong wasn't nearly as... lyrical.

The lack of throat and mouth helped that along nicely.

//And then, to the roof! For Valhalla!//

Kurt blinked. "Valhalla? SERIOUSLY? Are you two all right in the head?"

"For baaaaaaaaby!" Alice declared proudly, putting her hands over her flat stomach. "Olaf passes on his name! Forever, we shall live in fame! Val-HAAAAAAAAAAAAAL-la!"

//Und SPAAAAAAAAAAAAM!//

... It had been a very confused gremlin, okay?

Kurt shrugged. They were TOTALLY out of their minds. Clearly, there was only one thing to do.

He climbed onto the couch and posed dramatically, arms reaching toward the heavens. "Valhallan SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!"

"Spam fooooooooooooor all!" Brunhilda sang happily. "In Valhalla, we shall dine on spam! Spaaaaaaaam for wiktory! Wiktory for spam!"

Excuse her while she swooned. But not too badly -- she wouldn't want to hurt Olaf Jr.

"Und really bad ACCENTS!!!" Kurt sang loftily. "Because you are NUUUUUUUUTS!!!"

//We are nuts! And we shall celebrate our insane wiktory with more Spam! And we shall drink! Mighty grog! The grog of madmen! And shall feast on wild boar and whale, on honey and bear and elk and SPAM!//

Vikings ate well. Even those with no mouths.

//And so we shall sail!// Up onto the couch leapt Olaf. Hi there, Kurt. //For VALHAAAAaaaaaAAAAALLAAAaaaaaaA!//

Apologies to any and all who might have been within range of that psionic yodel.

"On spam, and elk, and nuts!" Brunhilda sang. "We drink to wiktory! Valhaaaaaaaalla welcomes us with spam and still more spam!"

She was trying to harmonize with Jono's note. It was going badly, and not just because of the psy/audio hiccup.

Kurt winced at Jono's yodel and put his hands over his ears, not that that helped any. Alice's harmony actually made it a little better.

"You shall sail to Valhalla, on your sailing couuuuuuch?"

//On my fine warship,// Olaf corrected gently.

If by 'gently,' one meant with a flamboyant gesture with his cardboard sword and a solid clap on the back for Kurt.

"Where do we sail, fine husband?" Brunhilda asked. "Valhalla awaits! We must to war! For spam! For baby! For new land!"

And because life got boring when you weren't pillaging and plundering.

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Second Floor Common Room, Early Monday Evening

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