Page 51 of The Caged Viking

They all laughed then.

“’Tis good to hear you laugh, wife,” Hauk said. “You know, you are always talking about the future in somber tones. Does nothing funny happen there?”

“Oh, lots of things would be funny to you. Let me think…okay, physical exercise is very important in modern times. Lots of people, men and women, jog every day. Jogging means running, not running from something or toward something, just running. In fact, dedicated athletes often jog for several miles at a time.”

“Why?” Egil asked.

“To get in better shape, or for some because they get a high from it, a rush of pleasure.”

“Barmy,” Egil concluded.

“What else?” Hauk asked.

“Did I mention that children go to school for at least twelve years? Some, sixteen or twenty years if they choose some particular career path.”

“Whaaat?” Bjorn quaked out. Apparently he’d awakened. “I had a priest teacher for three years and he nigh made my head burst with megrims.”

Kirstin smiled kindly at Bjorn, then went on, “Vikings have skalds to entertain you in your great halls. We have lots of kinds of entertainment, but one of them comes from comedians, whose sole job is to make people laugh. They tell jokes.”

“Like a jester?” Egil inquired.

“Not quite. A jester plays a fool in colorful clothing with a donkey-ears cap. They sing bawdy or mocking songs. Perform magic. Play instruments. Juggle. Whereas, the modern comedian just tells jokes, for the most part. Some of them are extremely wealthy.”

“From making jests?” Egil scoffed.

Kirstin nodded.

“Such as?” Hauk was peeling a rather wilted apple he’d brought up with the noon meal and was cutting it into slices, some of which he offered to Bjorn.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Kirstin said, smirking at him. “What do you call a pony with a cough?” She paused and answered, “A little horse.”

Hauk just raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, how about this one? Why did the skeleton go to the feast alone? Don’t know? Because he had no body to go with him.”

She giggled, enjoying her own jokes.

“Oooh, this one is a favorite of my nephews and nieces. What did one egg say to the other? Well, eggs-cuse me!”

When no one laughed, she tried to explain, “Eggs/ex…get it?”

“We got it, but it’s just not funny.”

“How about…why doesn’t anyone want to shear a crazy…um, demented sheep? Because it’s a baaaaaa-d idea.”

“What’s bad is your idea of humor,” Egil said, but he was grinning.

“How about some knock-knock jokes, then?”

“How about I knock you over your fool head?”

“You wouldn’t!”

“You are correct. I wouldn’t. But that does not mean I am not tempted.”

“So, you don’t appreciate my attempt at basic jokes and you don’t want knock-knocks…bet you wouldn’t go for slapstick, either. No, I don’t mean slapping two sticks together. Jeesh! I give up! Okay, forget about modern jokes then. You asked what things are amusing in the future. Well, some of our music would seem funny to you. In fact, the most popular is called rock and roll music. But especially funny is country music, which my brother Torolf and his buddies love.” She hummed, then sang the words to a song called “Achy Breaky Heart” and another about badonkadonks, which was apparently a modern name for women’s arses.

Even Bjorn rose slightly from his bed to laugh at that one, although, unlike him and Egil, Bjorn hadn’t yet heard her tales of time travel. He just thought she was speaking of some far-off country she came from.