Page 26 of The Very Virile Viking

He wondered idly if Angela's breasts were being "supported" by such an outrageous garment. That was a sight he would love to see. With luck, it was a sight he would see… someday.

Nay, nay, nay! I cannot see that… not if I keep my vow of chastity.

Well, I could look, couldn't I? And not touch ?

Ha!

Finally they ended up in the food department, but not before Angela complained, "The whole lot of you are giving me a huge headache."

"I know a surefire method for getting rid of a megrim," he told her.

"Get a life," she responded. There was a frown on her face as she spoke, so he assumed that expression was a negative directive and not a sincere offer of goodwill.

"That is precisely what I am trying to do," he murmured under his breath.

Torolf just laughed, way too amused at his father's lack of success with the wench.

Of all the things that had amazed him thus far in this amazing land, one of the most amazing was the vast array of foods that were displayed in this market. With little care for price—and surely they were priceless— Angela tossed rare oranges and succulent grapes into her cart, along with cakes, already sliced bread, and milk. There was not one, but eight different kinds of crisp apples, both green and red.

There were also wild greens, onions, turnips, beets, cabbages, parsley, horseradish, mushrooms, carrots, and many other vegetables he had never heard of.

His frugal nature was disgusted by the excess of this land, and the waste that must surely ensue each day with the products that were not sold. But as a farmer, he had to appreciate the vast array of produce.

And he speculated that perchance farming would be a lucrative occupation in this land of luxury.

Almost immediately Angela had had to caution his children to take only one of the samples being offered by ladies standing before several small tables in the food department. Kolbein particularly liked the "shrimp grasshoppers," though Magnus could not bring himself to try the delicacy himself. All of them liked the little cups of cherry Kool-Aid, an overly sweet beverage. And he was partial to the hot-dog roll-ups, even if the meat came from a pet animal. Some people objected to horse meat as well, but when people lived in the frigid north, betimes it was necessary to eat what was available… not that he had ever eaten dog before. Another lady gave them samples of a cold delicacy known as ice cream. It was strawberry flavored and sinfully delicious. Even Lida got a taste, and she nigh purred with delight. Angela put three kinds in her cart.

Something about this whole scenario was perplexing to Magnus. "All these people in this mart… are they all royalty, or of the landed class of upper wealth?"

"No, actually, Wal-Mart prides itself on catering to the middle classes. Working people," Angela said.

"How can that be?" he remarked, gazing about him at all the wonders of the world gathered in one place. "All this richness, and it is available to everyone? Surely this passes the bounds of logic."

Angela stopped pushing her cart and turned to stare at him directly. For the first time her expression was soft as she looked at him. "You're serious, aren't you?"

He nodded.

"You must have come from some really isolated area to be so shocked by what you've seen thus far. It's nothing, believe me. Nothing."

They had finally reached the head of a long line where they were expected to pay for their purchases before leaving the mart. "Do you have money to pay?" Angela asked him.

"Of course," he answered. What did she think? That he was a pauper? He opened the pouch attached to his belt and handed a gold coin to the store person, who wore a white brooch that read, Kimmie .

Kimmie stared at the coin, then at him. "This is what you intend to pay with? Oh, man, it's almost time for my break, and I gotta get a loony-bird."

"What is it?" Angela asked, peering around his body. She was always muttering something about him being big as a tree. Well, of course he was. He was a Viking, wasn't he? What did she expect? A dwarf?

"Some antique coin?"

"Now what? My coin is not good here?" Magnus confronted Kimmie. "Gold is gold, m'lady. Do not try to tell me different."

Kimmie spoke into a black square attached to her "station" by a black coiled cord. Her voice echoed throughout the store, just like the horn back at the longship site. "Manager to register three. Manager to register three."

"Shhhh," Angela intervened. "I'll pay and you can reimburse me later." She pulled out some parchment pieces from a black leather pouch that hung over her shoulder.

"Parchment!" he scoffed. "They will not accept my gold, but they will accept your parchment?"

"Shhhh," she cautioned once again. "Let me pay so we can get out of this store without causing an even bigger scene than we already have."