When Love Becomes an Instinct

Chapter Seven

        He looked at each and every one of them, the coffee table the only barrier –and reason- for him not to strangle the trio across from him.

         Two of them wore a serious mask on their faces. They wanted to laugh, alright, but apparently they couldn’t. They were much too fearful of him, he thought, as he regarded them with seriousness he never possessed before. The other one, however, failed or –more appropriately- did not waste his time hiding the laughter inside of him. He was grinning, his eyes glinting as if he still had a set of underhanded cards inside his pocket.

        “What are you laughing at?” He asked, his voice filled with force, loud enough just to let the trio know how disappointed he was of them.

         Clive, the oldest of the trio, laughed heartily, “Uncle, you sound like Loki.” As if on cue, the other two burst in a guffaw of laughter. “You even look like him!” Clive added, still laughing with his younger brothers.

        “Silence!” He shouted, feeling victorious as he saw his nephews paled in astonishment and fear. He wasn’t using Loki’s voice alright? He just seemed to possess it. So he sent a silent prayer of gratitude to God for giving him the mighty voice of Loki. It was useful really. IF he wanted someone to listen to him, that is. Sometimes, however, it was more of a distraction than a boon. Countless times, people –women particularly- either swoon on his feet or giggle in front of him. It was frustrating.

         It all started after watching Thor. Apparently, Loki made the biggest impact on the children more than Thor, himself, did. And after watching the movies, they just could not get enough of the Loki syndrome. They tried so hard to imitate Loki’s laugh, the way Loki walked, how he talked and when he got tired of Loki-here and Loki-there day in and day out, he shouted his frustration with an I-am-Loki-and-I-want-you-all-to-behave-or-I-will-get-you-in-your-sleep! A line that he exaggerated more to sound like the villain.Okay he had to admit he could not get enough of it himself.

            "Are you ready to listen to me?” He asked, his eyes blank, exuding what he hoped as Loki’s cold character. And it worked because the trio nodded in agreement, their heads threatening to snap off of their bodies.

       

         When he continued to glare at them, Clive, being his curious and impatient self, asked him, “What is it you want to tell us, Sir?”

         “I want you to promise a very, very important thing. I want you to repeat what I am going to say, got it?” 

         “Got it!"

          “Repeat after me, ‘I,’” he said, raising his right hand which sported a bottle of beer.

  

          “’I,’” his audience repeated with more enthusiasm than he expected of them, making him all the more frown as if in concentration to his valuable speech.

        “State your name,” he asked of them.

          “State your name,” they repeated, making him guffaw in laughter.

         “No, no.” He said, looking first at the oldest of the three young men in front of him, and then to the rest. “You will say your own name when you hear me say, ‘State your name.’ Got it?”