Thor drives...in Illinois, apparently

Thor thought

These were strange times for Thor, unlike the other times, which were not strange. These were times where Thor's very warped sense of reality was being challenged by stability, and she didn't like it one bit.

She wore pants instead of not pants. She whispered rather than screamed to herself as she walked down the street. She met a kind man and did not immediately fantasize about plunging her fist into his chest and pulling out whatever vital organ she could grab.

It seemed so odd, this new normal.

It was a Tuesday and she had yet to bite her toenails. Someone held open the door and she said thank you. The phone rang and she did not answer it with a belch. She did not eat her own dandruff. She did not sniff the other occupants of the elevator. She smiled and ate dinner with a fork and chatted about the lousy weather.

Oh, to be not normal again. How Thor craved it. How lost she was.

Thor in Love

No, dammit. It wasn't OK. Thor had suffered liars before, bought that whole bit about the moon's cheesiness and the fairy who collects teeth (which, let's face it, is just repulsive), but now this man was looking her in the eye and telling her how beautiful she was(!), and Thor had finally had enough. She pulled out her switchblade and plunged it into his gut. He fell to the ground, the bouquet of roses going down with him, and Thor felt the deepest satisfaction she'd ever known.

Thor is a puzzle

Jesus, what a pain. Another amputation. They were routine by now for Thor -- first the thumb, then the big toe, an ear, an elbow. Now they wanted to carve out the belly button, just go at it with an ice cream scoop, and Thor no longer had the energy to object. Take it, she said. Take it all. So pop went the navel, and Thor left the office without the knot in her stomach.

Thor on the couch

Never had it crossed Thor's mind that it would come to this: a quiet existence on a sagging, soggy couch, a three-day-old burrito for breakfast, those congratulatory letters piling up beside her, bullshit, every single one of them. There had been no award. She concocted that story as a joke, figuring her buddies would know better, would laugh or roll their eyes or make that pshaw noise she found so fake. Pshaw. Who says that? Pshaw to the woman on the couch, sweaty, smelling, something questionable oozing from somewhere unknown. So wet. Pshaw, the Nobel Peace Prize? Pshaw all over you idiots! Thor realized she'd befriended a band of morons and then she realized something worse, that those idiots who loved her would leave her when they found out about her lie. Pshaw. Thor was the moron. So she retired to the couch with a bottle of Sailor Jerry and her burrito, and she got up to get the mail, and she lay there as the phone rang, again and again, wondering how long it would take until she was more ooze than woman, wondering when her trophy would finally arrive.

"Stand and streeetch toward the ceiling;
Bend and streeetch--touch your toes.
Open up your mouth wide;
Touch your tongue to your nose.

Flap your arms like a chicken;
Arch your back like a cat.
Hum 'The Star Spangled Banner;'
Rinse and repeat that."

Thor yawned his way through his morning routine without missing a beat. Soon he would trudge to the kitchen for his usual breakfast of two bean and cheese burritos and a mango. He glanced at his clock, which read (as it always did) 6:02. Thor smiled lovingly in the general direction of the malfunctional time piece before pulling his tube socks up just below the knees and hitching his tan paisley boxers into place a little too high up with a magnificent set of rainbow striped suspenders. And he was off...

Thor skipped down the street
Exuding confidence with every step,
His face awash with the giddy ignorance
Of the socially inept.

Thor is Bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S...

Black boots, black pants, black sweatshirt, black stocking cap, black mittens--not gloves, but mittens, by personal preference--and Thor was set. He tiptoed down the hall, pausing at four second intervals to look and listen. With every stop he flung his arms out in front of him and lifted his left foot about seven inches off the floor. He then stuck his tongue out to taste the surrounding air. He was getting closer...

THUMP!

Thor froze. Someone was definitely onto him. He flattened himself against the wall and held his breath. He was so close. He could practically feel the rubbery banana in his hands, smell its intoxicating sweetness, and taste the yummy mush. With a burst of courage from deep inside his rumbling stomach, Thor ran forward and seized the banana hanging from the ceiling at the end of the hallway. He smashed it open against his forehead and then proceeded to massage the fruit into his scalp. Damn! Foiled again...and Thor was so very hungry.