Thor’s angry teeth vengefully tore into the animal’s meat. The ensuing eruption of meat juice trickled down from his mouth, forming a nearly perfect droplet of carnage on his chin, which he promptly wiped away with his cocktail napkin.
“The pigs in a blanket are not terrible,” noted Thor, finishing off the last of his mouthful.
“Have you tried the mini-quiches?” asked Jeff from accounting. “They have these spinach ones that have crushed pepper in there. It’s like a great explosion of flavor in your mouth.”
“Flavor explosion? There is no greater flavor explosion than the one you get from tearing magic flying goat flesh from magic flying goat bone. It’s especially potent if the magic flying goat is still alive when you eat it.”
“That’s terrible,” cried Jeff from accounting.
“It’s fine. They’re used to it by now.”
Jeff from accounting struggled not to vomit.
“So, ummm, you’re here with your ‘friend’?” Jeff from accounting asked.
“Yes. That’s right. I’m here with my friend and Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Vader of the Galactic Empire. He helped me pick out my tie. Isn’t it nice?”
Thor held up his paisley tie for Jeff from accounting to admire, which he did, because, really, it was indeed quite a nice tie.
“He said it makes the color in my eyes pop,” added Thor.
“How long have you guys been ‘friends’?” asked Jeff from accounting.
“Four months. We met at a bar in an Outback Steakhouse. He complimented me on the cut of my cape.”
“And do you guys live together? Or is it too soon for that? I don’t know how the timing usually goes for ‘friends’ to move in together.”
“Move in together? What are you babbling about, mortal? And why do you keep doing those little air quote things every time you call us friends?”
“Well,” said Jeff from accounting, “you two are… I mean, I just assumed that you two were, you know, ‘together.’ Gay.”
The collision between Jeff from accounting’s face and Thor’s mighty fist sent a deafening thunderclap through the room, following almost immediately by the equally thunderous sound of Jeff from accounting’s body smashing into the wall on the other side of the room, and then subsequently the wall on the other side of the room behind that one. After that, the room was dead silent, save for the whimpers coming from what remained of Jeff from accounting’s mouth.
Darth Vader, wearing a tie to match Thor’s and carrying a large salt-rimmed margarita, approached Thor. “PURR-AAAH… why did you punch Jeff in the face?” asked The Dark Lord of the Sith.
“He angered me!” shouted Thor. “He made an outrageous suggestion. Truly outrageous!”
“Was it about your tie? … PURR-AAAH…”
“He suggested that you an I are engaged in a homosexual relationship.”
“Well?” Thor insisted.
“Well… PURR-AAAH… it’s just a bro-mance.”
“What the hell is a bro-mance? Is it gay?”
“No, no, it’s totally not gay… PURR-AAAH… It’s just when two guys hang out and become really close and develop a deep emotional and spiritual bond.”
“That sounds gay,” said Thor.
“PURR-AAAH… No, it’s totally cool, man. There’s nothing gay about it. It’s not like we’re snuggling together on the couch on a Friday night watching Entourage. I mean, unless you want to do that…”
“I do not.”
“Yeah… PURR-AAAH… me neither.”
“Vader…” Thor began.
“Please, Thor, I told you to call me Ani.”
“Riiiiiiggggghhhhtttt… I think we should maybe not hang out anymore.”
Vader lurched forward, hands open in front of him, his head titled back in agony, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he cried out.
“Agree to disagree,” was Thor’s reply.
“You shouldn’t pay credence to Jeff,” implored Vader. “His perception is clouded by his feelings. It happens to him all the time. Once he saw a bobcat and thought it was a mountain lion and he totally freaked out, but we were like, ‘hey, that’s not a mountain lion’ and then he realized his mistake and then we all laughed about it over drinks.”
“I’m just not sure I’m comfortable hanging out with you anymore. Sure, it was nice going to hockey games and cape shopping and working together to thwart Dr. Doom’s diabolic plan to build a weather machine…”
“PURR-AAAH… Yes, I liked spending time with you, too.”
“I’m just trying to look out for my ass here. I’m simply very protective of my butt-hole. It’s nothing personal.” It should be noted that this was actually one of the least offensive things Thor had said that night, falling far short of the “Why are you so goddamn fat? Learn to use a treadmill!” he had yelled at the pregnant lady in the wheelchair for whom this particular event was honoring.
“But what about our trip to Lake Tahoe? I wanted you to meet my son, the Jedi. Together we would complete his training…PURR-AAAH… and go fishing.”
“I’m sorry Vader…”
“Whatever. I’m leaving.”
“Don’t go Thor… PURR-AAAH… Don’t be like that.”
But Thor was gone.
Darth Vader stood alone in the center of the room. A lone tear drop rolled down the front of his mask, culminating in a tiny droplet, which fell, gently, to the ground.
However, Vader was not alone for long: the Morgolax came up beside him with a plate of hors d’oeuvres in his claws.
“The Morgolax finds the lack of shrimp cocktails disturbing,” it muttered to itself upon reaching Darth Vader.
Vader turned and leaned in close to the Morgolax.
“Hey… PURR-AAAH… how’s it going?” said The Dark Lord of the Sith with a sly bend in his voice.