George pops another iodine tablet. “I wish I could stop taking these damn things,” he complains. Jerry grunts at him from across the trash can bonfire. “What’s so bad about the iodine tablets, George? How can you possibly complain about the iodine tablets? They’re lifesavers.” George starts to speak, but Jerry cuts him off. “–No, George, not the candy. Don’t even try to joke. They’re literally lifesavers.” George looks deep into the fire, and flips his skewered rat to roast it on the other side. “They make my gums hurt,” he mumbles. “Really, George?” Jerry drawls. “Really? You’d rather end up like Kramer over there than have mild gumpain?” Jerry gestures toward a tall pile of pus-leaking muscles and sloughed-off flesh with frizzy hair atop its summit. The pile of biomedical waste gives an earnest thumbs-up.
Elaine, conversely fully fleshed out, reigns supreme o'er Times Square by commanding her legion of radroaches. Riding atop the back of one of them, she raises a piece of scrap metal to the sky: “Onward, roaches! Tonight, we take the sewers!”
The realm mourned Odin, but none so more than Frigga, who relied heavily on Kari for the following few days as Thor and Loki dealt with matters regarding the realm. There were dignitaries present from all the realms, including the royal families of five of them attending his funeral. Queen Anya smiled when she saw Kari barely able to stand with her large stomach.
“It has been a trying time for you Allmother.” The elfin Queen commented. “How have you been fairing.”
“Not well, I am at risk of bed rest at present. But Frigga…”