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“The statue of Leif Erikson…Does that mean the Vikings—er, the Norse—discovered Boston? I thought the Pilgrims did that.” “I could give you a three-hour lecture on that topic alone.” “Please don’t.” “Suffice it to say, the Norse explored North America and even built settlements around the year 1000, almost five hundred years before Christopher Columbus. Scholars agree on that.” “That’s a relief. I hate it when scholars disagree.”
“Myths are simply stories about truths we’ve forgotten.”
I knew a woman who’d adopted a grocery cart and named it Clarence.
“You guys started working here the same year,” I noted. “749…what is C.E.?” “Common Era,” said the manager. “What you might call A.D.” “Then why don’t you just say A.D.?” “Because Anno Domini, in the Year of Our Lord, is fine for Christians, but Thor gets a little upset. He still holds a grudge that Jesus never showed up for that duel he challenged him to.” “Say what now?”
Stupid magical hotel wouldn’t even allow me to properly vandalize things.
“There’s Leif Erikson.” “Whoa…but he’s not wearing a metal bra.” “I’m going to ignore that comment.
He charged down the hall screaming, “DEATH!” while the smiley faces rippled on his boxer shorts. Mallory’s face turned red—with embarrassment or delight, I couldn’t tell.
Rick Riordan, the only kids author who could get away with that
Listen, Annabeth…” I took her hands. “I have to do this by myself. It’s like…like a personal—” “Quest?” “I was going to say pain in the—yeah, quest works.
I knew a bag lady in Charlestown whose husband had left her a six-million-dollar mansion on Beacon Hill, but sitting at home alone had made her feel suffocated, lonely, and unhappy. So instead she lived out on the streets, pushing her shopping cart, collecting plastic lawn ornaments and aluminum cans. That made her feel complete.
rich people are so fucking weird
The most unreal thing about the bar was Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space” blasting from the speakers. “Dwarves like human music?” I asked Blitzen. “You mean humans like our music.” “But…” I had a sudden image of Taylor Swift’s mom and Freya having a girls’ night out in Nidavellir. “Never mind.”
I reached for a bar stool, but Blitzen stopped me. “Nabbi,” he said formally, “may my friend use this stool? What is its name and history?” “That stool is Rear-Rester,” said Nabbi. “Crafted by Gonda. Once it held the tush of the master smith Alviss. Use it in comfort, Magnus, son of Natalie. And Blitzen, you may sit on Keister-Home, famed among stools, made by yours truly. It survived the Great Bar Fight of 4109 A.M.!”
You can’t appreciate something unless it’s good enough for a name.”
“This is Magnus, son of Natalie,” Blitzen said. The old dwarf glared at me. “I know who he is. Found the Sword of Summer. You couldn’t wait until after I died? I’m too old for this Ragnarok nonsense.” “My bad,” I said. “I should have checked with you before I got attacked by Surt and sent to Valhalla.” Blitzen coughed. The bodyguards appraised me like I might have just made their day more interesting. Junior cackled. “I like you. You’re rude.
Paradox ingredients are very difficult to craft with, very dangerous. Gleipnir contained the footfall of a cat, the spittle of a bird, the breath of a fish, the beard of a woman.” “Dunno if that last one is a paradox,” I said. “Crazy Alice in Chinatown has a pretty good beard.”
this rope is even better! I call it Andskoti, the Adversary. It is woven with the most powerful paradoxes in the Nine Worlds—Wi-Fi with no lag, a politician’s sincerity, a printer that prints, healthy deep-fried food, and an interesting grammar lecture!” “Okay, yeah,” I admitted. “Those things don’t exist.”
“Bah!” Junior said. “Let’s get ’em, boys! Granny Shuffler, activate!” Rows of dagger blades extended from the front of his walker. Two miniature rocket engines fired in the back, propelling Junior toward us at a mind-boggling one mile an hour.
The gods don’t even pretend to deal in good and evil, Magnus. It’s not the Aesir way. Might makes right.
Hearthstone Passes Out Even More than Jason Grace (Though I Have No Idea Who That Is)
“So…” Griep plopped back in her chair. “You want freedom for the swan? You’ll have to wait until our father gets home to negotiate terms. She is his prisoner, not ours.” “She’s a Valkyrie, of course,” Gjalp added. “Flew in our window last night. She refuses to show her true form. Thinks she can fool us by staying in that silly swan costume, but Dad is too clever for her.” “Bummer,” I said. “Well, we tried.” “Magnus…” Sam chided.
The screen changed. In Sam’s photo, she was standing nervously at the counter of Fadlan’s Falafel, her face turned aside, blushing furiously as Amir leaned toward her, grinning. “Ooooooo,” said the crowd of einherjar, followed by a fair amount of snickering. “Kill me now,” Sam muttered. “Please.”
