Vell Harlan and the Doomsday Dorms

“So what do you want to do for dinner?” Joan asked.

“I don’t know. Renard’s not going to cook,” Vell began. “Harley said the dining hall food isn’t so bad, though.”

“You think Renard’ll care if we use any of the ingredients he’s got lying around? I could cook something,” Joan suggested.

“Oh he won’t mind, we pay for most of that anyway,” Vell said. Renard did most of the cooking, so Vell, Cane, and Luke pulled their weight by keeping him stocked with ingredients. “I bought some ground beef the other day. We could make some hamburgers.”

“How violently American of you,” Joan said, stressing her German accent.

“Hey, they’re literally called Hamburg-ers,” Vell said. “If anything, they’re more German than American.”

Vell took Joan by the hand and they walked back to his dorm together. He unlocked the door and headed for the kitchen, and Vell froze in his tracks when he saw a tall, dark-haired figure stooped in front of his stove. He held Joan back, though she peered over his shoulder at the stranger regardless. The ominous figure stood and turned, revealing a smug grin, an apron that said “Kiss the Cook”, and a cooking tray in his hands.

“Oh hello,” said Loki, god of treachery and deception. “I heard you were looking for some dinner.”

With a sinister flourish, Loki put the tray down, revealing a pan of the shittiest meatloaf either of them had ever seen. The grey, slimy meat emitted a miasma of steam and blandness.

“Loki,” Joan whined. “I wanted hamburgers.”

“Too bad!” Loki said. He held up his hands and flicked his wrist, sending a scattering of glitter and confetti showering down on Vell and Joan. “Trickster god!”

As the glitter settled, Loki made a “peace out” gesture and vanished. Joan stepped forward and shook her fist at the empty space he had once occupied.

“You’re not even Odin’s son!” she cried. “You just copied that from a movie!”

Vell grabbed her by the shoulders to calm her down. Loki sustained himself with idle pranks and tricks like this. Yelling wouldn’t change anything now. Almost all other gods had had their powers fade over the years, but Loki still retained a respectable portion of his past power -not enough to command legions of followers, but enough to ruin someone’s dinner plans now and then. As a trickster god, he was obligated to use that power to deceive or vex others.

“Fucking Loki,” Joan grumbled. “I was actually looking forward to those burgers.”

Joan sat at the table and sulked while she stared at the meatloaf. She idly poked at the pan while Vell stared down the slimy-looking gray meat.

“So, should we like, eat this, or not?”

“I don’t know, it could be cursed,” Joan asked. “That’d be just like him.”

“Well, I’ll take a quick look,” Vell said. He grabbed the runic glasses out of his pocket and put them on before turning his eyes to the meatloaf.

“So what’s the verdict, Harlan? Is it cursed?”

“No, it’s just incredibly shitty meatloaf,” Vell sighed. “There’s not even any onions. Just meat, stale breadcrumbs, and some egg.”

“And he wonders why nobody worships him anymore,” Joan grumbled.

“At least he left the bread alone,” Vell said. “I’ll make us some sandwiches. Is turkey okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Joan grunted. The disappointment and frustration still dripped from her voice. Vell gathered up the bread and ingredients to make sandwiches, Just as he was finishing up, Luke barged into the dorm, looking excited.

“Hey guys,” he said. “Vell. I heard you were making some hamburgers.”

“Nope,” Vell said. He pointed to the unimaginably shitty meatloaf. “We got Loki’d.”

“Ah, fucking Loki,” Luke said. “I was really looking forward to hamburgers.”

Luke was not alone in his burger cravings, either. One by one, Cane, Renard, Lee, and Harley came knocking, having been told to expect hamburgers, and one by one they were disappointed.

“Oh come on,” Renard said. “I was excited somebody else cooked for once.”

“Motherfucker,” Harley said, being the last to receive the news. “Why’d he have to get all of us?”

“Good question,” Loki said. He appeared from nowhere at the back of the room, lounging on the dorm room couch.

“You!” Joan said. “You ruined my dinner!”

“Incorrect,” Loki said. “I acquired mine.”

Loki snapped his fingers and a tray of raw hamburger meat appeared in front of Vell. He gestured to it.

“All your friends are here, and they want hamburgers,” Loki said. “Since you’re making so many anyway, might as well make one for your old pal Loki, right?”

Vell sighed.

“Fine,” he said. This seemed like a lot of trouble to go to for a hamburger, but Vell knew better than to question a trickster god. “How do you take yours?”

“Medium rare, please and thank you,” Loki said. At Joan’s suggestion, Vell cooked it well-done anyway, out of spite.