Tagged: Great Hammer

Being Reminded of Great Hammer

  • by Kentadrift in a sea of conflicting emotions
  • “If he ever comes back, I’ll poison him.”
  • a silent, internal chuckle
  • I had scarcely begun
  • “I mean, it’s not a homing pigeon.”

Tune in next time part 220                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Being reminded of Great Hammer set me adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he’d been more of a brother to me than any of my blood relatives. On the other hand, he was probably the one who betrayed my father. I mean, someone had to do it, and in all likelihood it would have been me eventually.

Thor’s position on the matter was unambiguous: “If he ever comes back, I’ll poison him.” I knew he meant it, too, and I knew how easy it would be for him to do it. Everyone knew of Great Hammer’s fatal weakness for soup. I remembered him in his corner before a match, blowing on his soup, and a silent, internal chuckle clunked against the roof of my mouth.

“You didn’t answer me,” Isaac groused. “What does it mean?”

If I didn’t say something to misdirect her, there was a chance Isaac could land too close to the truth on her own. I had scarcely begun to draw the breath with which to misdirect her when a loud honking sound and a blast of feathers interrupted.

“Gordon!” Isaac exclaimed. “I never expected to see you again.”

A goose ran around her legs. It stopped and curled its neck against her thigh, stretching its wings forward. If I didn’t know better I would think it was hugging her.

“I set Gordon free from the roof of this building two weeks ago,” Isaac explained.

“Then is it really so weird it came back?”

“I mean, it’s not a homing pigeon.”

“Wait, what’s that thing on Gordon’s leg?” I asked.

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Some Members of My Extended Family

  • by jentried to convey everything by grimaces
  • probably view it as an escape
  • floating upon the surface like corks
  • the launderette they owned
  • We did find a hammer.

Tune in next time part 219                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Some members of my extended family tried to convey everything by grimaces, Svenborgian UnderDuchess Esmerelda among them. I tuned out the impossibly red dress and focused on her face. I hoped to discover a message in the minute details of the arrangement of her lips, but the image was too blurry.

If the world saw this footage of my father, a man who was supposed to be dead, they would probably view it as an escape. Never mind that he’d never been convicted of anything, or even charged. Certain factions of the public thought my family untouchable, and they resented us for it. They saw life as an ocean, and to them we were floating upon the surface like corks while they struggled against drowning in the undertow. Another way of looking at it is that they saw us as going through life on the gentle cycle in the launderette they owned in this analogy, while they were stuck in the lint trap.

Lint trap!

I tore my eyes away from Esmerelda’s enigmatic face and looked again at her red dress. How could I have forgotten the old washerwoman’s code? It was ancient, taught to first years at the Academy and rarely mentioned after. But still, I should have remembered sooner.

Isaac saw the dawning comprehension on my face. “What does it mean?” she demanded.

“We did find a hammer.” I could hardly believe it. The message could only be referring to retired professional wrestler Great Hammer, my brother Thor’s some-time lover. With any luck, Isaac would assume Esmerelda had been at the hardware store.

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I Always Used To

  • great hammer blows
  • I always used to envy children
  • my father’s arrogant stride
  • with that horse face
  • this surely must be a sin
  • they glowed crimson

I always used to envy children whose parents seemed normal, whereas my mother’s sinister leer was overshadowed only by my father’s arrogant stride. Mother’s leer was really something, with that horse face sporting eyes like a denizen of the depths — they glowed crimson. So, that should help put father’s arrogance into perspective.

Even today I blame them for where I wound up, doing body make-up on second-tier professional wrestlers. Casting blame, this surely must be a sin.

Today’s client insists on eating while I bronze his quads. Great Hammer blows on his soup, and my belly growls. I can’t eat until he’s in the ring.

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