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Torture was always the best option, Loki decided. It was always a trick when they offered you something else. That something else was always something that didn’t seem like torture, but totally was, and was a million times worse, in its own way.
He had never listened to the legends of Vogon poetry. Such rumours were always unfounded. He was only now finding out that the reason no one could offer him a concrete example of Vogon poetry was because there was no way anyone could survive a reading.
“See the lisping cosmos, gaping open
Like a whore’s love cave”
He moaned and struggled against his bonds, but they were as strong as ever. He should have taken the machine that made blood eagles look like getting a paper cut. He should have just cut his losses.
“Also like a whore’s love cave, the cosmos
Are dripping with viscous desire
To be penetrated by my spear, and owned
By me”
It was so bad. It was so, so, so bad…
“And you, Death, are the same
Ready to be possessed
Your perfect and rotting bosom
Surely heaves for my coming touch”
He tried very, very hard not to vomit in his mouth at the caress Thanos gave to Death’s name. He was only partially successful.
“And you will lie blibbering in anticipation
For my thrust”
Was there any way he could just kill himself now? He reached deep within himself, looking for the smallest hint of magic so he could just sever every artery in his body and be done with it, but the punishment he had received from Odin bore no faults. He considered asking his adopted father for help. The temptation was so great…
“And you will revel in the way I smell
Of unwashed undergarments
I know it will remind you of your childhood home
The masticating houseplants and their devouring of small insects
Glomping away, spittle flying into your tea”
Would Odin even be able to hear him? Did he know where he was? Was he watching him? Was he laughing? Oh, the Allfather was probably laughing at him, and he didn’t blame him. He had never seen this coming, and it was that lack of foresight that was costing him what little sanity he had left.
“O, Death, how I wait for thee as well!
You will wrap me in your embrace
And take in my manhood, and it shall slip and slide—”
“No! No more! Odin! Save me! I will take anything, anything but this! Remake me as an eel! Force me to read bedtime stories to small girls with sharp fingernails! Anything, Father!” Thanos merely laughed manically, before continuing.
“And we shall writhe together, like two lampreys
Making a meal of an unsuspecting deep-sea diver
Like two tapeworms enjoying the entrails of a cow…”