I do not own Thor: Ragnarok.
Oh my gosh, it was so good!
Korg the Conqueror
It wasn't an easy life sentence, imprisoned and fighting to the death in the arena.
But, Korg reasoned, that wasn't any reason to mope and brood over the situation.
You went out, you fought.
And hopefully, you weren't the one that came back dead.
If you didn't come back dead, well then, then you went back and waited in the freaky, weird, magic circle thing for the next fight.
It did wear thin on a bloke after awhile, just waiting and silent and still.
Like rocks.
Ha.
Plenty of other guys around, doin' their own waiting.
All sulked up and leaking various bodily fluids.
A bit depressing, really.
And Korg was, by nature, a cheery and outgoing guy.
So he had decided to take matters into his own granite.
Chatting up the other guys.
Found a friend in Miek.
Quiet guy. Had to be careful around those knives, one did.
"Hey man, where'd you get those? Not born with 'em, I hope."
Insectile chittering, vague waving and gesturing of said blades.
Korg had nodded amicably.
"Ah, well, that's good to know then. Hard to wipe ya bum otherwise."
And they had settled back down again.
But that's what Korg did.
Talked.
Made acquaintances with the other guys.
"Bit less maggots in the mush today, eh? Things finally shaping up around here then."
Encouraged 'em when he could.
"Pity about your arm, anyway. But at least he didn't get your left nut. Ha, that's a little squirrel joke for ya."
Chastitized them when they needed it.
"Oh hey, guys, fecal offings and vomit goes over there in that little salty circle, not just spread where ever you felt the need. Disgusting slobs!"
Wrote letters to his mum in his head.
Dear Mum, how are ya? I'm fine, haven't died in the arena yet as of the writing of letter anyway. Hope Fred's doing well, even though I hate him.
And of course, he had his other hobbies.
Pinging dropped off rocks of himself off the wall.
Playing marbles with 'em.
Planning revolution.
Thinking back on it, probably not really the best idea to make pamphlets.
The squid ink . . .
"Thanks for the ink, Jerry . . . Oh, it's not ink . . . Oh, it's . . . Oh, well, thanks for the sacrifice anyway, man."
. . . had smeared and literacy really wasn't the strong suite of the gladiator community anyway.
He liked the new guy.
Lotsa energy and determination, that one.
Bit serious tho. As were most guys coming into the arena.
Yeah, yeah, probable death and all. But have you seen what Jerry can do?
But he liked 'im.
Good guy. Good chum to have around.
The conversing with incorporeal entities was a bit disconcerting, if Korg were to be honest.
Creeped him out a bit.
Still, it was unfortunate the guy was about to face Grandmaster's Champion.
Korg had rather liked gettin' to know him.
Irrational, romantic attachment to his long lost carpentry tools notwithstanding.
Ah well, live and let live. Bloke's got to get along somehow, he mused philosophically.
And it paid to be cheery.
Well, maybe not paid exactly, them being prisoners with jobs and all.
But that was the way Korg was.
Tough on the outside.
Tough on the inside, come to think of it.
Positive thinking and a touch of farg fluff in the middle somewhere.
He waved cheerily at the newly shorn Lord of Thunder walking off to die in pointless battle at the behest of the deranged Grandmaster.
"Bye, New Doug!"
Gonna miss him, he was.
The Grandmaster's champion had never been beaten.
He was a hulk.
Love this movie, you guys! Good grief, it was awesome!
Anyway, thought about just writing from Korg for the othere scenes as well, so grace me with your opinions there please?
Keep going or as is?
And, as always, everybody appreciates feedback.
Leave a review if you like.