My name is Loki, and I am a god. Or I was until last Tuesday.
Now, Odin has banished me to Earth in the form of an eleven-year-old boy. This situation is bad for many different reasons.
First, there is the overall weakness of this mortal body. I’m not the strongest of the gods, but right now, my legs look like sticks, and I have the upper-body SIF’s head looking strength of a small squirrel!
Gods spring into being fully formed, so I have not, until now, ever been a child. Apparently, this is what Odin thinks I would look like as one! Rude!
Second, there are my fake parents. The guard god Heimdall (who hates me) and a terrifying giant called Hyrrokkin (feelings unknown) are here to pretend to be my father and mother while we are on Earth. I have to live with them and do what they say. I am appalled at this indignity. I’m thousands of years old! I should not have a bedtime! I should not have to do chores! I should absolutely under no circumstances be expected to fold my own undergarments!
Third, I must put up with eleven year-old Thor, who seems to take great amusement from sitting on my head and farting. Perhaps I should take comfort in the fact that he is here and must suff er with me … but it’s hard to be comforted at the same time you’re being farted on…