We all know the Trickster has a sweet tooth. He also likes to share. More often than not, when I buy him a donut or other snack, I end up getting double what I paid for, or the vending machine will give me wrong change, just enough to buy a second bag of Goldfish or whatever it was that caught my eye and made me think of him. Dude doesn’t like to eat alone, I guess. He’s generous, and he takes the “gift for a gift” mantra seriously. So I pretty much get to stuff my face with junk food whenever I make offerings to him, because that’s just how it works out more often than not. I’ve long since accepted it, it’s no longer a confused shock when I open the bakery bag and see that the sweets I purchased have miraculously multiplied. Fish and loaves ain’t got nothing on vanilla cream pastries.

The other night, I did something crazy and had a salad for dinner. Believe it or not, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. I prefer savory stuff myself, and I’ve been sick with the winter crud going around, so I was craving nutrients something fierce. It was delicious, right up to the last bite, when a piece of baby spinach adhered itself to the back of my throat. This is where the anatomical knowledge of mortuary work becomes a Very Unfun Thing. The damn thing felt lodged near the epiglottis, the stupid little flap that covers the entry into the lungs. My gag reflex kicked in and projectile vomiting ensued. So much for packing my body with vitamin-rich foods.

After the purge, I could still feel something plastered on the back of my throat. Cue violent coughing, mixed with the fear that the stupid leaf would be aspirated into my lungs on the inhales. I screamed at Loki in between wheezes, because of all the close calls I’ve had, all the shit I’ve survived (even when I shouldn’t have survived), there was no way I was going to be taken down by aspiration pneumonia from a shred of spinach.

It was a long night. Spoiler alert: I survived. The carpet outside the bathroom, however, is looking pretty rough.

In the morning, on the way to work, I did my usual Dunkin run for my iced coffee fix, and the lady working the drive thru had a sneaky grin when I pulled up. She handed me my glorious coffee elixer, looked over her shoulder, and slipped me a box of munchkins. She winked, told me to have a good day, and turned her attention back to taking orders.

I don’t even question it anymore. Donuts are safer to eat than spinach, it seems. At least they’ll dissolve if they get lodged in your throat. Lessons from Loki: less leafy shit, more soft sugary things. I’ve never gotten free health food, but I get free sugar all the damn time.

Say what you want about Himself, but he’s a good provider. Not sure what this will mean for my waistline, but hey, a gift’s a gift. I survived The Great Spinach Assassination Attempt of 2019, and I was rewarded for my suffering with a box of free donut holes.

He’s a twerp, but he’s a generous twerp. I think I’ll keep him around.