by Andy Coffey
***
As Aiden made his way back into town he spotted a fallen tree trunk, which lay lifeless near the hedge. He sat down and stared up into the clear sky as a couple of magpies fluttered by, no doubt in search of treasure or perhaps worms. It was now late afternoon and his thoughts began to turn to home once more, mainly because he was missing Humphrey; although the really weird thing was that even after only two days he actually felt he somehow belonged here. What was it Tom had said, ‘all this happened because the app selected the most appropriate Llangollen in the Multiverse for you by analysing your subconscious.’ He took a deep intake of the crisp afternoon air and then he felt his phone buzzing.
His immediate reaction was that it must be Tom with some news. But when he produced the phone from his pocket the ringtone was distinctly different, almost like heavenly angels singing. He looked at the name being displayed on the screen. It said ‘Odin’, so he answered it.
‘Hello.’
‘Oh, hello. Now you’ll have to excuse me, as I don’t tend to use these things much, but Tom asked me to give you a call.’
Given what he’d witnessed over the past couple of days, Aiden had decided that he’d keep an open mind to anything he encountered from now on. He still needed to ask what seemed to be a perfectly reasonable question, though. ‘So you’re actually Odin of Asgard?’ he said, with a completely straight face.
‘You mean you know another Odin?’ replied Odin. ‘Well, I shouldn’t be too surprised. I have a cousin who called his dog Odin. A right feisty little bugger it was. Whenever we’d visit him — that’s me and the wife, Frigg — I used to get a bit confused at meal times. “Odin, Odin, din dins” they’d shout, and up I’d get and wander into the kitchen. Don’t get me wrong, dog food isn’t normally my thing, but to be honest some of the stuff was actually quite tasty.’
‘Sorry,’ Aiden said. ‘I meant are you Odin, King of the Norse Gods.’
‘I am indeed, young man. Now, Tom said he’s a bit tied up but told me to tell you not to worry and that he’ll be back in touch on Thursday.’
‘Ah, okay, and thanks for letting me know.’
‘My pleasure, young man, I’ve heard some good things about you. And your wind’s been blessed on several occasions already.’
Aiden remembered the tale Cracky had told him when he was on the boat trip yesterday; that the Vikings believe every fart is a blessing. ‘So all those “blessings” actually get to you?’
‘Oh yes. If a fart is done with feeling and the thoughts that go with it are pure and noble, then it’ll find its way up my holy nostrils. It’s no different from praying, you know. It’s the positive energy that counts. Unfortunately for me, I often receive the positive energy surrounded by the most ungodly smells!’ Odin said, with a booming, hearty laugh that was so infectious Aiden couldn’t help but join in.
‘I will say this, though,’ Odin continued. ‘One of the biggest pains we gods have is this whole “freewill” thing. I mean, it was our idea and it did make perfect sense at the time. Allow life forms the opportunity to make their own decisions and keep interference to a minimum, provide a few basic rules and then just let it roll. That’s what we all agreed. Now, don’t get me wrong, by and large it works perfectly well, but you do sometimes get a bit frustrated when things get misinterpreted.’
‘Misinterpreted?’ Aiden said.
‘Yeah, it’s happened quite a lot. I’ll give you an example; I was speaking to God, the big guy, at the last “Bi-Millennial Deity Conference”* and he was talking about this very subject. “Ods,” he’d say, as that’s his nickname for me, which is much better than some of the other nicknames I have. “Ods,” he’d say, “never trust a scribe, because it doesn’t matter what you say, they’ll make up their own version anyway. Look at what’s been written about me in the Bible. One minute I’m a kind and loving god and the next thing I’m smiting this and smiting that. I’ve never once told anyone to smite bloody anything! I mean, how hypocritical would that be. I set out the Ten Commandments, without caveats bear in mind, and all of a sudden it’s as if I’ve said ‘well, yes, but obviously they don’t apply to me, particularly if I think that someone needs a bloody good smiting.’ What kind of example would that be setting?” He was really miffed about the whole thing.’
‘You know, I’ve never thought about it like that,’ Aiden said.
‘And the other thing that does get to me, on occasion, is the boredom,’ Odin continued. ‘Again, don’t get me wrong, Asgard is a wonderful place and some of the goddesses do provide very welcome distractions, if you know what I mean. But it can all get a little bit tedious. I mean, you can only create so many planets, stars, mammals, suit-wearing giraffes and four-eyed, fire-breathing, chest-beating gnomes before it starts to feel a bit samey, can you understand?’
‘Well, why don’t you get yourself a hobby,’ Aiden said, ‘something completely different.’
‘You know, that’s really not a bad idea. Have you any suggestions?’
‘Oh, er, I don’t know. How about hosting a radio show?’ It was the first thing that jumped into his head, and he had no idea why.
‘Hey, what a great idea, I really like the sound of that! I could do music, interviews, competitions, phone-ins. Brilliant. Thanks very much, young man.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ Aiden said, surprised and slightly relieved.
‘Right, then, I must be off. I need to get hold of some deities to interview on my new show. Very exciting. Take care, Aiden Peersey, I reckon I owe you a favour.’
‘Thanks. Goodbye, Odin.’
*See appendix 2