Scandal

F*^#!

Thor's earlobes were swollen with rage as he stood in the doorway surveying the damage. The maid would be sorry she'd ever been born. She cleaned EVERYTHING. Where were Thor's dirty socks? His half-eated orange? His gum wrappers? His hodgepodge of stolen bicycle parts? His peanut shells? His...life?

Gone, that's where it all was. Gone with the wind. Gone with the evening trash. Thor was ruined. He wept. And then he ordered Chinese.

Tomorrow, the maid would pay.

Thortastic!

The neglect burns Thor. It's as though someone has sliced her clean to the bone and rubbed habaneros over the wound. It hurts to be forgotten. Thor feels completely unnecessary. But she's not, is she? I need Thor. You need Thor. Do you hear me? YOU NEED THOR.

She just doesn't have much interesting to say right now.