Page 47 of The Very Virile Viking

His children were watching entirely too much tell-a-vision.

"Let me see if I understand you, Torolf. You want to go hear some musicians called No Doubt who want to preach you a song message of 'Don't Speak'?"

"Exactly!" Torolf beamed at him.

Magnus threw his hands up in surrender. "You people are demented."

Lida threw her hands in the air, imitating him, which prompted everyone to laugh.

Best he be careful what he did around the little imp.

"One other thing," Torolf said to him.

Uh-oh!

"I would like to purchase a Hog."

"A hog? A hog? I can hardly credit what I am hearing. Must be I have a buildup of wax in my ears. Are you not the same fellow who would have naught to do with the hogs back on our farmstead?"

"Oh, Faðir , not that kind of hog. The Hog I refer to is also called a moat-or-sigh-call. It is a horseless vehicle, like a car, except it has only two wheels, and it goes at excessive speeds."

"Nay."

"Nay?"

"You heard me, boy. 'Twas bad enough when you talked me into that Saracen stallion last year and broke your leg. I will not countenance your 'galloping' off on a moat-or-sigh-call."

"I never get what I want."

Magnus raised his eyebrows in a manner that indicated the subject was closed, and if it was not, Torolf was going to lose some of what he had already gained, like No Doubt.

"If Torolf gets a moat-or-sigh-call, I want Rollerblades," Njal injected.

"I would be content with a bye-sigh-call," Hamr said.

"Can I have a pony?" It was Dagny speaking now.

"See what you started, Torolf? No one is getting anything, and that is that."

All of the children glared at Torolf, except for Lida, who drooled red spittle down her chin.

Grandma Rose must have decided to change the subject, for she asked him, "How do you like the purchases I made today, Magnus?"

He smiled at the old lady, who had been so kind to him and his family since their arrival. "Wonderful.

Did I give you enough money?"

"Oh, yes, although we may have to make another trip in a few days."

"Can I go? Can I go?" all his children chimed in.

"Goo? Goo?" a red-faced Lida asked, too. She had a marvelous new stroll-her device, which would

make such a trip possible, not that the little one knew that. She would be just as happy riding his shoulders.

He and all of his children were now wearing den-ham braies , which he had to admit felt comfortable.

On top, their attire varied from tea-sherts to tanking-tops to soft fabric sherts that tucked inside the braies . Lida's garment was also den-ham but it was something called a coverall. Around her neck was a cloth mantle called a bib, which caught all the baby's slop and drool.