Form: Humor

(humor)
So, I get I kick out of teasing customer service people and trying to get a laugh out of them. And this morning I’m on a call with the prescription coverage folks, with a very professional young gentleman, who is trying to efficiently process my account changes, and is reading through the (boring) terms. And he asks me if I understand the coverage he’s explained. Say “What about the coke and hookers”. … He completely loses his train of thought, which I abuse by repeatedly doubling down on ‘scenarios’, until he’s totally lost it. 😉
See? We can make life better for each other with just the tiniest bit of effort. 😉

(nonsense)
In the online RPG Elder Scrolls, there is a quest where you find a trash talking artifact called The Amulet of Ambition that constantly talks to the player, often in a sarcastic or self-absorbed manner, offering unsolicited advice or making humorous observations about your actions. The amulet embodies a mix of arrogance, self-importance, and snarky humor, frequently belittling enemies or mocking the player’s decisions.
I wanted to keep the thing because it was so entertaining. But quest completion unfortunately required it. Another option would be some one foot tall demon that did the same, and you could kick or hit when it overreached.
The prototype was Lilarcor’s brash and bloodthirsty persona from Bards Tale II. And then back to Stormbringer in Moorcock’s Elric series. Before that there are plenty of literary and mythical swords but as far as I know, while they have personalities they don’t talk.

Tyrfing (Norse Mythology):A cursed sword from Norse sagas, Tyrfing is forged by dwarves and enchanted to never miss a blow and always kill when drawn. While it doesn’t explicitly talk, its sentience and the way it shapes its wielder’s fate make it conceptually similar to later talking weapons.

Hrunting (Beowulf, c. 8th-11th Century):The sword Hrunting is gifted to Beowulf to fight Grendel’s mother. While not talking, it is described almost as a character in its own right, imbued with legendary qualities and a history that gives it a sense of presence akin to sentience.

Excalibur (Arthurian Legends):The legendary sword of King Arthur, while not traditionally depicted as “talking,” is tied to prophetic figures like Merlin and the Lady of the Lake. Some interpretations and retellings imbue Excalibur with mystical awareness or speech.

Flamberge (Rabelais’s Gargantua and Pantagruel, 1532-1564):A magical sword associated with giants. While it does not explicitly talk, its larger-than-life, legendary status lends it a distinct “voice” in the narrative.

Swords in Pulp Fiction and Early Fantasy (1920s-1950s):Many pulp stories featured magical, intelligent weapons. Writers like Robert E. Howard (Conan the Barbarian) and C.L. Moore (Jirel of Joiry) hinted at sentient swords, though explicit “talking” examples were rare.

Swords in The Faerie Queene by Edmund Spenser (1590):Magical swords, such as those wielded by Redcrosse Knight, are described with vivid personalities and mystical attributes. These don’t talk directly, but they serve as active agents in the narrative.

The Sword Kladenets (Russian Folklore):A magical sword that speaks to its wielder or reveals its powers through cryptic advice. It’s less characterized than Stormbringer, but its sentience prefigures Moorcock’s creation.

Swords in The Sword in the Stone by T.H. White (1938):The enchanted sword pulled from the stone by young Arthur is sometimes depicted with mystical, near-sentient qualities in White’s whimsical adaptation of Arthurian legend.

–“You’re objectionably northern.”– Jimmy Carr

(To an audience member clearly from Newcastle. … only because I have a friend of many years whom I still can’t quite understand at times.)

–“You’re objectionably northern.”– Jimmy Carr

(To an audience member clearly from Newcastle. … only because I have a friend of many years whom I still can’t quite understand at times.)

(humor)
The only time I have been truly terrified is when Veronika threatened to collect all my exes in a room together to share stories. 😉

(humor)
A VIKING CHRISTMAS STORY 😉
(worth repeating) (I re-publish it every Christmas eve. .))

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the village
The men sharpened knives and the boys dreamt of pillage.
The skulls were all hung by the chimney with care
In hopes on the morrow, more would be there.

The girls were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of silks, danced in their heads.
And mamma in her gown, and I in my shirt,
Had just caught our breath from a quick winter’s flirt.

When out on the river there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed, to see what was the matter.
Away to the Hall, I flew in a rush,
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a longboat with shields, bearing men with their gear.

And with a bearded old man, lively and wisened,
I knew in a moment it must be Lord Odin.
More rapid than eagles his warriors they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With bags full of booty, and Lord Odin too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard at the door
The laughter of brethren hardened by war.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Lord Odin, burst open the door, and came with a bound.

He was dressed all in grey, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all fouled with snow and with soot.
A bundle of booty he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a merchant, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his laughter how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
The beard of his chin was as white as the snow,
And his purses, hung neatly, from his belt, in a row.

The stump of a pipe, he held tight, in his teeth,
And the smoke it, encircled his head, like a wreath.
He had a long face, pointed hat, and grey cloak,
That shook when he laughed, like the bough of an oak.

He was tall and thin, but a jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
But a wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know, I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger, aside of his cheek,
And giving a nod, tossed my share to my feet.

He sprang to his boots, and to men gave a whistle,
And away we all flew like the down of a thistle.
And I heard him exclaim, ‘ere we ran into the night,
“Happy Viking to all, and to all a good-fight!”

-Curt Doolittle

(With Apologies to Clement Moore)