After a shower, the female scout, Cody, walked out of her own personal bathroom and into her bedroom looking for something to wear. She currently had a towel wrapped around her chest and waist and one on top of her head. She let the towel slip to the floor and reached down to dig in her drawer filled with panties in search for a pair. When she had put it and her sports bra on, she tried to decide what top to wear. The decision was between a plain red t-shirt and the red one with an orange Bonk! logo on. She decided on the one with the Bonk! on. Mostly because she wanted to renew her wardrobe instead of using the same clothes over and over again. She pulled the shirt down and the logo went right over her left breast.

“No wonder their PR works,” she said out loud, laughing, to herself while holding her boob a bit up to see the logo. She kicked the towel which was currently on the floor in the direction of her toilet, where you can also find her extra large pile of dirty clothes. And just so you know, the Eiffel Tower does not have anything to compare with when it comes to size. She put on a pair of darkish brown shorts and before she could buckle it, she saw him.

She was just looking up for the cap that hung on a knob on her closet’s door. He had both his arms and both his legs straight out from his body holding himself up. Had it not been for that piece of headwear, he would have remained in hiding.

She jumped up and grabbed his arm. “What the fuck is your problem, France?” Cody yelled louder than the sound of the

Spy hitting the Scout’s bedroom floor. “Why were you hiding in my closet?” Cody asked.

He replied, “In le beginning it was just to see tu naked… But then… Je… Uhm… Fell in love… Oui!  Je love tu!”

Cody looked at the Spy, with a slight expression of disgust in her face, “What? How ma-…  And you’re how old again?!”

The Spy stood up on his two own feet and brushed dust off his shoulders and straightened his sleeves.

Cody grabbed the Spy, “Why can’t you just approach me like a normal person, like writing a letter or just ask for a date?”

The Spy sighed, “Je did… Je did send tu un lettre. Asking pour un meeting of love.”

“You did? I didn’t get any!”

“Well, je did.” The Spy paused. Then, his face had a little smirk on it. “Now that tu know.  Could this European get un kiss petit for le trouble?”

Cody pushed the Spy away with great force, making him almost fall down on the bed behind him. “I don’t care how “European” you are! I will not fucking French kiss you… Uhm… Frenchie!”

“It sounds like tu are implying that je ‘ave asked before…” The Spy said with a puzzled look, “‘Ave je?”

Cody got a little angry expression on her face and on her hands, which had been fists for a quite a bit now; you could now see her knuckles whiten. “Yes! Yes, you have!” she yelled, I said it so many freaking times now, I lost the count!”

“Je ‘a-. Oh, oui! Je ‘ave done it, many times!” He said with a fake smile: “So, what about un date?”

Cody hit the Spy with her fist and yelled, “No! No! No! No! I’m not interested in you at all! How many times do I have to say it?!”

“Merde!” said the Spy, “Je ‘ave seen tu with le Medic. If tu can be with ‘im, why non with moi?”

She hit him with a baseball bat, which she had been able to get a grip on without the Spy noticing. “That’s non of your business, asshole,” Cody stopped and looked at her wooden bat. She smiled, “That’s maybe no bad idea at all. My bat,your ass. How can that combo go wrong?”

The Spy looked like he just pooped in his pants, “Please, non.”

“Well, the answer stands. I’ll not go out with you. You’re just a fucking perv, el Pervo.”

“Tu know that is Spanish?”

“Like I give a fuck what you are, froglegs.”

The Spy slapped the Scout hard. “Stupide ameriqueian, ou whatever tu say it.”

“Ouch,” Cody screamed.

“Non passion,” he said looking down at Cody, “Non love.”

“Why the hell did you hit me?!” Cody said angry.

“Tu is a very, very stupide girl,” he said serious.

Cody went for a punch but the Spy dodged the attack. He laughed but gained a very serious look in his face very fast. He punched.

“Shit,” she said loudly holding her hands on her nose.

“Do tu non like le punch, ou are tu un hypocrite?”

He tried to punch again but Cody parried it, holding the fist in her hand. Again, he tried but once again, he did not manage.

The Spy laughed, smiled and then he smashed his head in the Scout’s. Cody stumbled backwards a couple of steps and because of the interruption earlier, leaving her with a pair of unbuckled shorts slowly sliding down closer to the floor, she tripped in it and landed on the bed.

Cody was holding onto her head hard, trying not to cry. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she kept repeating.

“Those Scandinavian Vikings are non le only un who can ‘ave un little amusant. See, Je remember something from le classe de historie at school,” the Spy said while opening his pants. “Those Norwegians are especially stupide and brutal.

If tu compare them to le autre countries around them.”

In the moment he opened his fly, Cody smashed her knee in the Spy’s testicles. He screamed – and yelled something on French which is best not be written in this story.

“You son of a bitch,” Cody yelled at the spy and rolled over to the other side of the bed.

“Je ne think pas!” He grabbed her leg and dragged her back to himself.

She kicked. She kicked wildly. The spy now had it with her and in less than one second, he had managed to stab her, hitting her right over the thigh.

Poor Cody. She was now crying, “Sorry,” she managed to say in between, “Sorry for being such an ass. Just let me be.”

Then suddenly, surprisingly the only person – which was not even in the same house – who heard anything that was happening in the room came. The door slammed and broke into several thousand pieces after being rammed in.

“You,” the newly entered person yelled pointing with his right index finger at the Spy, “will die for your actions today!”

Cody turned her head, to be able to see who this man was. He had his cape on his back, letting him have his hands free. Cody could also see a large axe hanging next to his right hip. On that axe, she saw a symbol, a symbol she could recognize anywhere after being told the sagas about the cold north, at bed time when she was just a little girl. “Wait, you?”

“Yes, it is I, the one and only. I am the avenger of my ancestor. I am one of the believers of Odin, Tor, Njord, Frøy and the other great gods of ancient times.” The Norwegian paused, grabbed and raised his axe and pointed at the Spy with it, before yelling out three magic words: “I. Am. Trygve!”

“Hah, do non make je laugh,” the Spy said. With lighting speed, he pulled a revolver out of his holster.

“Pang!” It sounded through the house.

Trygve was still holding his axe up.

“No,” Cody screamed.

Trygve was still holding his axe up.

Everything was in slow-motion now.

Trygve was still holding his axe up.

The bullet went towards his head.

He tilted the axe upwards and the bullet hit one of the sharp edges of the axe. The bullet split and the two pieces flew to each side. One to the left of Trygve, one on the right.

“What,” the Spy said some seconds after the split, not believing what he just witnessed.

“Now that you have seen the sharpness of my axe, any last words?”

The spy threw his knife towards the Viking but Trygve caught it in midair and threw it back with great force. The Spy’s knife hit the upper arm of the Spy and some small glimmers of lighting could be seen going around the shoulder.

“Ouch,” he screamed and looked at the Norseman.

The Viking’s strawberry blond beard reached down to his bellybutton and on top of his head he had a helmet, with a nose guard and wings.

“Die,” yelled the Spy, sprinting towards his newly found enemy.

Trygve kicked the spy as he was approaching the man of the north in the large room.

Cody had, under the heated discussion between the two Europeans, begun to move towards the door out to the rest of the house. But before she exited she yelled: “Medic, I’m wounded and our spy also need ya, doc!”

“Wait,” said Trygve, which gestured the same with his left hand.

“What,” Cody asked scared, “If it got something to do with our spy, I think it’s probably because his brain got melted after all that sapping of his.”

“I do not think so. Your team is what color?”

She answered: “Red, but wh-.”

“Look at his suit, it has some blue spots on it.”

“Well, I thought he was just wet. Maybe sweating after hiding in my closet.”

“I believe he belongs the blue team.”

The Spy which had surprisingly not done anything the last minute was pretending to be unconscious, just to catch his breath.

Cody picked up her bat, holding it in her right arm, just like Trygve with his axe. They watched closely as the Spy’s hand moved towards the revolver.

“Let it be, shithead,” yelled Cody. She now had the baseball bat raised over her head, holding it with both hands.

The Spy took the firearm quickly and rolled over. He accidentally pressed on his left arm, which was the one that were shot. “Ouch,” he said low, so low only he could hear it. He aimed at Trygve.

“You do not learn, do you?”

“Shut up,” the Spy replied. “Lighting does non strike deux times.”

The Viking laughed.

Now everything went incredible slow. Except from the Norwegian.

“Pang,” it sounded for the second time in short time.

Trygve walked slowly towards the Spy and the bullet. It was just before time stopped and the Norwegian took advantage of this power. He picked up the bullet, which was in the air less than half a meter from the gun it came out of. He threw it, and its velocity slowed dramatically down. It was going towards the stomach of the Spy, which will be shot, if Trygve makes time go normally again. He raised his weapon and held it over his head.

Then, everything sped up to normal time, where a normal second was a second and not a lifetime. The bullet made its way into the meat and flesh, of the chest, of the Spy, exactly where the jacket’s pocket was. It went through his box off cigarettes, which also cloaked him as one of the red. The suit, the mask, even the shoes, turned blue as the bullet ruined the small electronic and entered the body. The paper mask’s string which kept it on the face of the Spy loosened. It slid off his face, leaving only the mask which spies is never seen without.

The Spy cried now, and when he saw the Norwegian ready to put in the final blow, the crying became a mix between sadness and angriness. “Screw tu, Norvegeian!” he said.

And then it all was done. The Spy was dead, the Scout was saved and the Viking did some payback. Cody has been healed by the Medic, which also had to heal the pink Soldier, Fabio, which apparently tried to make a move on Trygve.

The Norseman was sitting by the kitchen table with his helmet next to him, on the other side of Cody, and he had some mead and some of the Spy’s blood mixed together.

“You said something about getting revenge,” said the Scout, breaking the long silent they had, “what did you mean?”

“You heard him, he insulted my people.”

Cody was puzzled, “Did he mean Vikings or maybe Norsemen… Or could he mean me,” she thought inside her head.

Trygve saw the pondering look on her face and sighed. “He said that Norwegians are no good if compared to Denmark…And even Sweden,” he explained, “I was just pillaging peacefully on the islands north of Scotland, the Orkney Islands I think you call them, but then I heard him.”

“How could you possible hear something that far a-… How could you come so fast here when being that far away?!”
Trygve smiled, “Well, I also heard a blonde girl scream.”

“But I’m not blonde!”

“Ever colored it, highlighted it or got some kind of light paint on it?”

“Well, I once managed to rub my hair into a wall with wet, white paint.”

“That explains it,” he said with a smile, which was very hard to see behind all that facial hair he had. “So, I guess I have to go back now. Those women do not rape themselves, you know.” He laughed with self-irony.

“Wait; let me get something for you.”

“Oh?”

She stood up and walked to the refrigerator. She opened it and looked into it. She pulled a drawer with a note saying her name on, and in that box she took out a little can. “Catch.” She threw it to him.

He reached out a hand and grabbed it. “What is it,” he asked.

“Bonk!”

“What?”

“It is called Bonk! Atomic Punch. This one is Cherry Fission flavored.”

“Oh… Well, for a reward I was hoping for something more.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Uhm,” he smiled “nothing…”

He stood up and was on his way out but then it happened again.

“Forget abou’ le respa-,” the Spy tried to get out, but then Cody had something else on her mind. She was giving the Spy a shot of love, or more correctly: a shotgun of love.

“Jesus fuck, you’re such a creeper!”

An old piece of literature which I wrote

A long, long time ago.

In a galaxy far away.

Naboo was under an attack.

So it is this you chose, at least the five of you who voted.

This is a story that will, as you probably have figured out already (smarty-pants), in several parts, and with that I mean more than one. And how fast I will write the next depends. Some factors might be comments from you, the readers, that should show this site to as many as possible. I got the whole line of events ready, I just need to write it.

Now, this is a story all about how, a wedding got flipped-turned turned upside down and I liked to take a minute (just sit right there) I’ll tell you how the wedding became the strange and not square.

Here it is:

“I now pronounce you husband and wife!” said the priest and the couple ran down the aisle with smiles on their faces. They exited the temple in Tokyo and got ready for their grand feast on top of one of the tallest buildings in the Japanese capital. Under the millions stars in the sky and over and next to the stars of the billboards, the celebration of two people’s love were the centre of this party. The ceremony started, continued and ended with tears of joy and laughs and smiles. Arnt von Schneidterz had married Miley Pymp de Niccel.

Now, there was a big reception for the two lovebirds, and all their closest friends were there. Nikki Poovnutz the Otaku, Maria Vepsesopp, Solveig, Vivacious Vivi and more attended the ceremony and the event. They were now enjoying themselves under the night as full moon shone down on them all.

“Can je get ta attention,” the speakers said “S’il vous plait?”

The guests turned their heads towards the stage where Audun Zcrunh from Cameroon stood, with his glass raised.

“I would like to make un cheer for le newlyweds.” he said. “Let us ‘ope they get un lot of great moments as le years go.”

All the guests in the same manner as the Cameroonian raised the glass, and said “Huzzah!” loud enough for everyone to hear.

The groom stood up at the table and held his wedding dress up so he would not trip over the many cords on and around the stage. As he stood there, Arnt said “Thank you all for coming here on this beautiful day. We are both grateful.” he said and looked over to Miley. Arnt picked up a little remote control from a little table and pushed the little button on it.

Many a rockets filled the sky as the party’s show just started. Red, green, blue and white colours formed a spectacular display of Japanese artisan skills.

When the fireworks stopped, the next point on the program was going to shine. Two people now stood at the stage and they both grinned.

“Are you ready for the funniest show ever?!” one of them said.

“Because here we are!” the other one continued.

“I’m Kikki!”

“And I’m Moen!”

“And we’re here for a… Blast!” they yelled together into the microphone.

Their “audience” held their hands on their ears. Some even looked angrily over towards Arnt and Miley who seemed to be talking to a man in a suit.

The man in the suit turned around. He had sunglasses and an earpiece which he pressed in. He said something, something too low for others to hear.

Now, several suited men began to move towards the stage, where Kikki and Moen still were screaming and shouting, while doing movements with props from something that could have been from a children’s show on television.

“And this is a dog!” Moen said while holding up a terrible attempt at a balloon animal. Khadonk it said when one of the apparent guards tackled him down.

Kikki had seen them coming and was now atop one the towers of speakers yelling “You can’t get me, so take that!” Still, she had not noticed that a taser had been aimed and fired at her – without second thoughts.

“I am sorry for that “show”,” Arnt von Schneidterz said into the microphone, “but they will both be held inside, until the police arrive.”

The guests smiled as the rest of program continued.

The light became brighter and brighter.

Something they first thought was a plane or just a star became larger and seemed to fly towards them.

There were some restless faces in the crowd at the same time as a private jet flew low, just around four hundred meters over them. They looked up and they saw five figures after the aircraft. People understood straight away that the figures were descending and relocated to the rails on the edge of the building. Small parachutes could be seen behind the blurs now. They landed with a thump and struck a pose.

It was the Mighty Morphin Power Ranger.

Also, I stumbled upon a sound file with the correct pronunciation of my glorious, wonderful and manly name (just ignore “Lie”): http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Media:Trygve_lie.ogg

• Gender: Masculine
• Origin: Old Norse
• Meaning: “trusty; true; safe;
• Nor (TRIG-veh); (TRIGG)

Looking back at original writings surrounding an idea is important when you are trying to take your understanding deeper.

My goal in this series is to draw attention to some of the original documents and highlight what people said about MVC in its inception.

It’s been noted before that naming a pattern is important. With the MVC pattern you really need to start with Trygve Reenskaug’s writings since he named and described MVC.

In my next post we’ll look at his original MVC paper called Thing-Model-View-Editor.