I COULDN’T HELP IT. When I heard the name Thor, I thought about the guy from the movies and comics—a big superhero from outer space, with bright Spandex tights, a red cape, goldilocks hair, and maybe a helmet with fluffy little dove wings. In real life, Thor was scarier. And redder. And grungier. Also, he could cuss like a drunken, creative sailor. “Mother-grubbing scum bucket!” he yelled. (Or something along those lines. My brain may have filtered the actual language, as it would’ve made my ears bleed.) “Where is my backup?”
