Between you and me, I think the Vikings are still out there, waiting to rape and pillage again.

We are driving in Arkansas when she tells me she can trace the entire line of British royalty from Alfred the Great to Queen Victoria.

“Only to Queen Victoria?” I ask.

“It gets boring in modern times,” she attests.

“Why would anyone ever know—or need to know—that?”

“Don’t be a douche,” she says.  “It is important because it shows definitively that the elites are as corrupt, fallible, petty, vindictive, ignorant, and vile, if not more so, than any of their so-called subjects.  As it were, the great chain of being is an elaborate if ultimately solipsistic treatise meant to justify the status quo, and the notion that the ruling elites rise to power either by providence or skill is one of the most critically unchallenged ideas to ever exist in the world.”

I marvel that she actually talks this way, then say, “Bollocks! William the Silent was a good person.”

She laughs. “That isn’t what I said at all.  Besides, for every William the Silent there is a Henry the VIII.”

“Henry the VIII? That’s not fair!” I protest.

“OK, then Edward II,” she says.

“You opprobrious homophobe,” I say.

“OK, then.  How about George IV?”

“Don’t know anything about him,” I confess.

“He took advantage of his father’s madness to install himself into power prematurely, was a serial womanizer, and lived lavishly at the expense of the social good.  This was just after the war with Napoleon, which he had WON, but some say only because—”

“Shut up,” I say.

“No.  You,” she says.

“Shut up,” I say.

“No.  You,” she says.

“Shut up,” I say.

“No.  You,” she says.

“Shut up,” I say.

“No.  You,” she says.

“Shut up,” I say.

“No.  You,” she says.

“Shut up,” I say.

“No.  You,” she says.

“Shut up,” I say.

“No.  You,” she says.

“Shut up,” I say.

“No.  You,” she says.

“Shut up,” I say.

“No.  You,” she says.

“Shut up,” I say.

“No.  You,” she says.

“Shut up,” I say.

“No.  You,” she says.

“Shut up,” I say.

“No.  You,” she says.

“Shut up,” I say.

“No.  You,” she says.

“Shut up,” I say.

“Oh, OK,” she says.

“No, keep going.  It’s very interesting!” I say.

“Well,” she says.  “First there was Alfred the Great.  But you can’t say too much about him for sure because all of the writing about him—from, like, 850 to 890—is all just fables.  But he led a successful guerrilla war against the Vikings, slaughtering them at Edington, and then chasing them back to their fortress at Chippenham until they were weakened with hunger and had to sue for peace.  But by then there were so many Vikings in England that he realized it would be easier to convert their leader to Christianity and let them stay than it would be to drive them out.  And that’s cool, but you have to wonder if they meant it or were just talking the talk and waiting to rise again at some later date.  The Vikings were crafty…or should I say ARE?  Between you and me, I think they are still out there, waiting to rape and pillage again.

“Anyway, after that came Edward the Elder, who was a complete bad ass.  The Danes were still being a bunch of jerkfaces, but…”

———

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Editor’s note: Technically it is her vulva, not her vagina.