In Which King Gylfi of Sweden Learns about the Time When Loki Got Knocked Up by a Horse.
So one day this fuckin’ blacksmith shows up at Asgard n’ he says tah the gods, “Hey, so how ‘bout if I build yah the best fuckin’ fohrtress yah evah seen. I mean this fohtress is gonnah be so fuckin’ good it’ll deny all those goddamned trolls n’ frost giants that yah all hate so much like a fuckin’ goal post on a Bruins shot in the second round’ah the 2014 Stanley Cup playoffs.”
N’ so natuhr’ly the gods ahr like, “What the fuck?” ‘cause they weren’t bohrn fuckin’ yestahday n’ there ain’t no way some fahreign blacksmith who just wandahs in off the streets intah their home is gonnah just build them this ahrchuhtectu’hral mastahpiece n’ not wannah get somethin’ outtah it fah himself in retuhrn. So they ask him what he wants n’, he’s like, “Let me mahrry Freyja. N’ alsah, I want tah own the sun n’ moon as my own perhsonal prahpahty.”
Now at fihrst the gods ahr thinkin’ this is somehow even mohr fuckin’ retahded ‘en the puck bouncin’ off Chara’s skate n’ past Tuuka in game 7, ‘cause it’s not like they need a new fohrtress that bad. But they’re alsah a devious bunch’ah bastahds ’emselves n’ so they staht thinkin’ that maybe they can outsmaht this guy, yah know, n’ create a win-win sohrt’ah situation. So in the end they tell him, “Alright, it’s a deal, but only if yah can finish buildin’ the fohrtress befohr the wintah’s ovah.”
N’ I’m pretty sure Freyja was kindah pissed ‘bout that one ’cause yah know how it is, sometimes wintah don’t fuckin’ end till like April ah even May some yeahrs, so they got a real indetehrminate deadline they’re wohrkin’ with here n’ so ah’couhrse she’s wondah’in’ tah herself where the fuckin’ loyalty is. Maybe that’s why she’s got so many fuckin’ cats. Who knows, but she might as well be livin’ in fuckin’ Montreal fah all the good her friends ahr doin’ her.
So anyway though, they all strike this deal n’ the blacksmith asks if he can use his hohrse n’ Loki bein’ the cocky prick that he is answahs n’ he’s like, yeah, yah know, why not? Give the guy a break yah know, it’s just one fuckin’ hohrse is all. N’ then the smith n’ gods they all take a bunch’ah oaths not tah betray each othah which not even one’ah ‘em takes sehriously since it’s basic’ly just one giant fuckin’ pack’ah wild dogs that we’re talkin’ ‘bout here, with the exception’ah Thor who wasn’t even there tah take the oath on accoun’ah the fact he was off swingin’ his hammah ‘round at some fuckin’ trolls somewhere, which is a really great fuckin’ hobby if yah ask me.
Sehriously, I’d love tah fuckin’ just take a hammah n’ smash some fuckin’ trolls’ heads in. God, if I could just do that at the end’ah wohrk each week, just get it all outtah yah system, yah know? Why the fuck ahren’t there any trolls anymohr?
…well, nah, I don’t know if they even evah actually existed. But it’d be fuckin’ sweet tah kill some, just like as a weekly therahpy type’ah thing, instead’ah yoga ah some pansy shit like that, yah know? Like dress one up in a Canadiens jehrsey each week n’ then just go tah fuckin’ town on the green fuckin’ monstah. That’s all I’m sayin’.
Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I’m gettin’ off topic.
So anyway though, so this hohrse’ah the smith’s, tuhrns out he’s a real fuckin’ wohrkah Like if the Bs had him on their rostah, they’d still be in the fuckin’ run fah the Cup, n’ I gottah say, as the nahrratah’ah this fucked-up vehrsion of the Edda I realize I’m askin’ yah tah take a real fuckin’ leap’ah faith n’ suspend yah belief in the fuckin’, I don’t know, the fuckin’ continuity’ah the space-time continuum I guess, ‘cause this here convuhsation we’re havin’ right now is specific’lly occuhrin’ on the 24’ah June 2013, but I sweahr tah fuckin’ God, the Habs they can go n’ they can take their fuckin’ sticks n’ they can fuckin’ shove—
—Oh, look, our bee’ah’s hee’ah! OUR BEE’AH IS HEE’AH! Oh shit that pitchah is fuckin’ beautiful. Thanks, Chelsea. Nah nah, I think we’re good—yah good, right? Yeah, this is great, yeah, thanks. Oh shit man I been wantin’ a pitchah all day. Those pints I had eahrliah just don’t quite cut it. Here man, give me yah glass, I got yah. There we ahr…
But yeah, so that hohrse was fuckin’ intense, man. Made Bobby Orr look like a fuckin’ quadriplegic on skates. I mean at the rate this hohrse is goin’, it’s got the gods thinkin’ their season’s gonnah end real fuckin’ prematuhrely fah a group’ah guys who just won the fuckin’ President’s Trophy, n‘ somehow in the fuckin‘ Odinic calendah ah whatevah it is they go by, they know exactly that they only got 3 days’ah wintah left n‘ they don’t got any goalie tah pull n‘ so now Freyja’s goin‘, “Yah gottah be fuckin‘ kiddin‘ me. Yah fuckin‘ shitheads wagah’d me off tah this fuckin’ weihrdo out there with this crazy fuckin’ hohrse, so yah bettah figyuh out a way tah get me outtah this fuckin’ mess.” ‘Cept she said it a whole lot nic’ah since she’s a lady.
So now at this point all the gods, n’ I mean all’ah ‘em, tuhrn on Loki ‘cause he’s the guy who told the guy, “Oh yeah, man go ahead n’ use yah fuckin’ hohrse, that’s no big deal.” N’ so they threaten Loki here that if he don’t find a way outtah this fuckin’ mess then they’re gonnah tie his ass up n’ let Subban take slapshots at his fuckin’ face till the end’ah time.
So Loki bein’ the shape-shiftin’ deviant that he is, he decides tah go n’ transfohm himself intah a fuckin’ mare in heat n’ then he, uh, I guess, he goes n’ he frolicks on ovah by that smith’s hohrse ah whatevah it is hohrses do when they’re feelin’ hohrny. I gottah confess I don’t much ‘bout how hohrse matin’ rituals wohrk, yah know, I mean we didn’t have any fuckin’ hohrses in the neighbahood where I grew up.
But anyway though, Loki, now he’s this bitch hohrse in heat n’ that fuckin’ distracts that othah hohrse n’ he chases Loki off intah the bushes n’ basic’ly rapes him. Ah maybe it was consentual horse sex. I got no fuckin’ ideer, I really fuckin’ don’t.
But at any rate, that one night’ah fucked-up hohrse love was ‘nough tah slow down wohrk on the fohrtress tah the point that the smith couldn’t get it done on time n’ when this happens he goes intah a huge fuckin’ buhzehrkah rage n’ now fah the fihrst time the gods realize that this guy isn’t just some ohrdinahry smith from Middle-Earth, but actually a giant fuckin’ demonic French Canadien who roots fah the wrong team n’ how the fuck they didn’t get this soonah beats the hell outtah me but sometimes the gods just got shit fah brains.
So now they got this asshole who’s wicked pissed n’ he just threw down his gloves n’ he’s bangin’ on their doohr talkin’ shit in a goofy accent n’ they’re like, “Fuck,” ’cause Lucic’s not ‘round since he got ejected n’ so they send off fah Thor tah come back from his troll-hammah’in’ mission n’ when he shows up he just praceeds tah just beat the livin’ shit outtah this fuckin’ prick. N’ Freyja’s like, “Thank, god,” n’ all in all evuhryone’s pretty fuckin’ happy n’ then like 9 months latah Loki gives bihrth tah Sleipnir, the 8 legged wondah-hohrse who Odin rides ‘round on till the end’ah time when evuhryone n’ evuhrthing dies in a huge fuckin’ fi’ah.