The Honeymoon's Over

Now, Torga, you know I love you very much. That is why I conquered the horde at Nurmijaarvi last month in your name. That is why, along with my trusty brother-in-arms Relkiska, I halted the onslaught of that Baltic bastard Borggata and his demented tribe. That is why I pillaged the hamlet of Varkaus to aquire the ancient Crown of Lennigrikas. I did it all for you, Torga, because I love you. But you know what? I kinda feel like I’m the only one bringing home any spoils in this relationship.

Like, just yesterday, when I came home from a long day of raiding, hoping—maybe, just maybe—that I might find a hot bowl of reindeer suet waiting for me, what were you doing? Sitting on the straw pile watching the goats mate! I had to fix my own ruisleipä bread! And that’s all I had! A mighty warrior cannot live on ruisleipä alone, Torga.

And you know what else? I’ve got news for you, Torga: the rats running around our house aren’t gonna decapitate themselves. Someone has to do it, and I’m usually gone all day. I’m trying to get Teffå to give me saturdays off, but I’m not gonna be out busting my hump for a six-day work week when all I get to do on my day off is chop off rat’s heads! I chop off enough heads at work!

Now, before you bring it up, because you ALWAYS DO, let me just tell you that I’ve really cut down on my raping. In the last three villages I burned, I only raped one virgin. ONE! Do you know how hard that is? All the other vikings laugh at me, Torga! They say, “What’s the matter, Blæsende, can’t get it up?” I tried to tell them that you and I are trying to work on our relationship, but all they do is laugh and call me a bearded woman. Marriage is a two-way mountain pass, Torga, and I just don’t feel like you are giving me what I need here.

I mean, what do you do all day? Gossip with Leivka? At least she cooks! Jølkke told me that! He said she’s a good cook! Did you know, I was out ransacking in Hovudstaden the other day—all the way out in Hovudstaden, Torga!—and I was about to cut off an ingrateful serf’s arm, and when I swung at him, it took me three hacks to cut it off! I asked you to sharpen that axe for me the day before! Do you know how embarrassing that is? It was in front of all the guys! Not to mention I didn’t get a very clean cut and that serf will probably get an infection now! So I got that weighing on my conscience. The sharpening wheel is in the side yard, Torga. Do I have to remind you how to use it?

And would it kill you to at least spread some wheat meal on the floor every now and then? It looks like we’re living in an ogre’s hut with these dirt floors! Fransk Þórhallsson’s wife put down woven reeds on the floor of their hovel. This isn’t the 1070’s anymore, Torga. Don’t you think you should put a little effort into our home?

And another thing. I haven’t made a big deal out of this, but in case you haven’t noticed, our daughter is a GIRL. Remember when we got married, and my best man Scott Omgrepet said at the reception, “May your first child be a masculine child?” Well, I let it slide this time. But if our next baby isn’t a boy-child, I’m leaving you, Torga. Got it? Now go bake me some flekkdrabelegøydefiiske!