Yesterday morning the sign outside Wotan’s sprawling McMansion read, “Due to Wagner’s clumsy expository skills, the end of the world will be postponed by three hours.”
It is a hoax.
The conspiracy theorists claim that the fiery red sky before sundown last night was evidence of a massive house fire which consumed the gods, their warrior friends, and all the mead that had been intended for Siegfried’s bachelor party. But if the gods had really been scorched, then why did I see Loge manning the local payday loans counter? The sky probably looked angry because Wotan was ticked off at Rick Santorum, who had suggested in his CPAC speech that he had access to the god’s cell phone number—and not just the corporate line.
Of course, if there was a fire at the mansion it was no doubt set by Wotan himself, who had threatened to do as much after receiving Fasolt’s foreclosure notice. Not that Fasolt didn’t have it coming, with his predatory lending scheme, revoking immortality in exchange for a chef’s kitchen and a custom mead cellar.
It was probably Waltraute who started the whole Valhalla fire conspiracy in order to distract from Siegfried’s “heroic” death (another fatuous accident!) She never liked Siegfried, and who can blame her? The man who can slay dragons and commune with birds (tweet @ Mime: “why don’t you ever make dragon blood soup?”) is, in fact, a dolt. If only Brünnhilde could have seen that he is socially maladapted and highly susceptible to flattery—no doubt a consequence of Mime’s home-schooling. The rumor is that Brünnhilde is dead, too, in a manner typical of ill-fated lovers, if the lovers are Teutonic and in need of psychoanalysis.
Next door, Zeus hopes that the conspiracy theorists are right. Foreclosures have brought down the value of Olympus, and ambrosia isn’t cheap—even in Greece.
