5

Having a Norse God traipsing about the house was not even the worst shit I had gotten into in my twenty-one short years. There were other more life-threatening situations – like the time my tie had gotten caught in an ATM. I decided never to dress up as Barney Stinson for a costume-party again. But to be honest, having a Norse God traipsing about the house was about the most bizarre thing to happen. I slouched back into the house to find him seated regally on my couch. He looked formidable and out of place in my untidy little home. It was almost comic, but it made me feel, well, poor.

Don't let him get to you, Paton! The asshole. Who does he think he is, throwing his weight around like he owns you? A bloomin' God, that's who. He could bloody own me if he wanted to.

I decided not to argue with my mind any more. What was one supposed to feed a Prince anyway? You didn't need a second look to tell that my humble abode had never produced anything more princely than a chocolate truffle, that too out of a delivery box. It was a damn good truffle, too. Agreed, but that wasn't the point.

"I'm waiting," he reminded me, without looking up. Oh my god, does he ever shut up?
Loki was staring blankly at the beaten up telly in the corner of the room. I picked up the remote and switched it on and its dusty screen crackling with static. Loki look bewildered for a moment as he watched the moving figures. He turned around to me, quizzically.
"Magic, or science," I said gruffly, "Whatever you want to call it."
"My, aren't we full of surprises?" He jeered, leaning back.

I went to the kitchen, which was still dry. I pulled the minifridge open. There was a bottle of ketchup, some left-over Chinese take-out and a block of strawberry ice cream. I could throw them in a bowl and pretend it was a delicacy. He wouldn't know.

Yes he would, and he'd have your head. Specifically to use your skull as a goblet for wine or some shit. I wanted my mind to shut up with things like that. Forever. I threw my hands up helplessly. There was a single tin of soup in the cupboard and if he didn't like dehydrated vegetables he could bloody well take a hike with his ridiculous cape. And his ridiculous smile. I silently cursed the back of his head as I left the tin on the burning stove and looked for bread.

As I passed by the kitchen clock, I glanced absent-mindedly at it. Eight o'clock.

Eight o'bloomin' clock?! The shipment from Emery was due two hours ago!

I hadn't realized I was screaming hoarsely, holding my head and growing pale until I was shaken by the shoulders.
"Stop!" Loki commanded irritably.
"No!" I exhaled and darted past him to the door.
"Oh, no, not again!"
"The deliveries." I squealed, throwing myself into the drive and fishing for the keys from my pockets. It was a brief struggle with the door once more and I had my pedal to the gas, speeding down the silent and scenic Riverside road.

Are you going balmy? You just left that psychopath in your house unattended!

"You should slow down or you'll hit something else."

Loki was glaring at me from the passenger seat. I bellowed and lost control of the car – it swerved and skidded.
"Take us back!" He said sternly.
"No!" I yelled, backing the car up, "and don't you think of physically assaulting me again, I will bite and I'm not joking. I have unusually sharp incisors, alright?"
Loki scrutinized my face as the car cruised up towards the Harbour.
"You've left your home unlocked, you know."
"THANKS FOR THE UPDATE."
"Where are you going?"
"You made me miss my pick-up and I'm going to lose my job because of you and if I don't have a job I'll be homeless so you'd bloody well get used to the idea of sharing a cardboard box in the rain in an alley in South Dutton!"
Loki raised his eyebrows at me, "compelling enough argument."
He yawned and stretched.
"Is this going to take very long?"
I was in no mood to answer him. I could only think of the Riverside Deliveries director, Mr Delacroix, glaring down the end of his long nose at me. I would have to tender my resignation because he didn't fire people, they mysteriously quit.
"Stay here!" I said, ramming my shoulder into my door after I had parked on the quay. Loki did not respond; he was busy rifting through the things on the dashboard.

Mr Delacroix was in an awful mood. He spent a good ten minutes listing my flaws one by one to me.
"I had to pay Oliver extra to deliver!" His long nose quivered in fury. "This is the last time you soil the name of this enterprise, McAllister!"
"I'm really very sorry, sir, I was-"
"I don't care about your excuses!" He sat down behind his desk, steepling his fingers.
"Sir, please-"
"If you still want to keep your job there's another delivery that needs to be in South Dutton by nine."
I gawked at him. He hardly ever gave out second chances before deducting salaries. I jumped at the opportunity, nodding and apologizing vehemently.
"You will not regret this, sir." I said firmly.
"I'm pretty sure I will."

When Loki saw me race up to the car with the package, he watched me lazily until I had finished loading it into the back. It wasn't very large, but it was heavy. I couldn't tell what it was, but it was double-wrapped and wound securely with brown tape. I was breathing hard when I got back to the wheel and started the truck up.