Slaughter the Parents, part 1

The children run and scream and throw things and cry and get in the way and their parents just let them. Usually, no one ever confronts these animals, and as an introverted social moron, I am no exception. But Trond Troll-Breath is, since he’s an amazing Norwegian Viking.

I can just see him sitting there, enjoying his fika at a local coffee shop until a couple of mothers enter with a ragtag bunch of floor crawling vermin. I see his patience festering towards nonexistence as the mothers proceed to outright ignore the children as they yell and run around like a bunch of goddamned monkeys on speed (which is, apparently, a seldom known side-effect of giving highly caffeinated beverages to human beings under the age of 10). I also see him uttering increasingly audible Norwegian obscenities under his breath till finally bursting:

“Great Odin’s ass, this isn’t a fucking playground! Fucking-ay, this fucking ridiculous…[devolves into incoherent and profane Norwegian mumbling].”

As I said, he is a great man.

But maybe he’d prefer to direct his frustrations on the mothers themselves, wondering aloud why they can’t fucking control their own demon spawn:

“Hey, you, whore! What the fuck?!?! I’m trying to have my fucking fika over here. Why don’t you control your little asshole bastards for fuck’s sake, you fucking whore.”

But poor, honorable Troll-Breath would probably just be met with indignant, self-righteous enmity:

“Well, you know what? This isn’t a library, so maybe you should go to one of those if aren’t tough enough to handle a little noise in public.”


“We have just as much right to be here as you do. So why don’t you just leave yourself if you have a problem with it, okay?”


“How dare you….oh…hey…you wanna go back to my place for a quickie? My husband won’t get home for another 5 hours. We can leave the kids here for the workers to look after; they won’t mind.”

Troll-Breath would demonstrate his great talents for restraint by not escalating the situation further with retorts of his own. Instead, he would most likely walk over to the offenders and slap them senseless. Lying on the floor with their children clambering stupidly upon them, they would hardly realize just how lucky they are that he doesn’t normally take his medieval weaponry with him when he goes a-fikaing.

In part 2 we’ll visit modern Viking disapproval of parents who change diapers in all manner of public places, on all manner of public surfaces, which sadly seems to have become a very popular fad.


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