Even Necromancer Santa Won't Step to Gryla
Hey Bookworms! How’s the holiday season treating you so far? Is your holly jolly? I sure hope so. Melancholy holly is just the saddest thing. Whaddya say we head to Iceland this week and talk about Gryla?
Firstly, Gryla is dope as hell. She’s just your average troll/ogre hybrid who lives up in the mountains with her third husband (she killed her first two when they started to bore her), her thirteen grown sons and the Yule Cat. The Yule Cat is a giant black cat that likes to creep on people opening their gifts. If said person doesn’t get a new pair of socks, the Yule Cat will pounce them and tear them to shreds. You know how kitties are with laundry. It makes ‘em crazy.
They live in a big cave at the top of the mountain and sound travels so well on the island that Gryla and her family can hear every dang thing that goes on in the towns below. She has to listen to all these little kids and their constant bratty chatter. The sound of parents screeching at their kids to do their homework, pick up their rooms, and explain what a “dank meme” is just echoes off their walls all day. It’s endless. But Gryla, she has manners and manners are so very important. She meditates and lets her frustrations go 364 nights a year. But on night 365? Y’all, on night 365 Gryla gets hers.
She has a sort of mental GPS that guides her to all the bad kid houses. She stomps on over to each and every house with all fifteen of her tails - Yes, she has fifteen tails. She is an unconventional beauty and I celebrate her - waving around and she pounds on the door. Some people try to hide, but Gryla is not having it. If you don’t open the door then she’s going to kick it open. If you do open the door, she’ll bend down real low, (She is a giantess, after all), and peer into the eyes of the parent who opened the door.
“Hello” she will say in her raspy voice. “Your child is very awful. Absolutely terrible. I’ve had to listen to him all year long. You know what I must do”
The parent will gulp and nod. Sad, but knowing there is nothing they can do. Why, oh why, did little Hans have to take after his father? She had warned him so many times.
Gryla carefully steps into the house and compliments the rug in the living room. “I always go with earth tones, such a chicken about color but that looks just beautiful.” She says while walking down the hall and opening the bedroom door. Hans knows the jig is up and is trying to hide in the closet but, again, she flicks open the closet door with one of her tails and sweeps Hans into the seemingly bottomless gunnysack she uses to collect the bad children. She will have SO MUCH stew meat by the end of the night. “I really am so sorry.” She says on her way out. “You’re young; don’t be afraid to try again. Maybe limit the child’s screen time. It will help with focus and impulse control.”
The parent will nod solemnly. Eyes large with fear and regret, they bid Gryla safe travels. With that, Gryla heads to the next house. So many children to collect this year. She’ll have enough for stew and maybe some nice sauce, too. Maybe she will put kale in the stew this year. Dark, leafy greens have so many antioxidants. She loves when the whole family sits around the table and savors the nostalgic memories that her grandma’s recipes bring. The holidays are such an important time to spend with family.