Valkyrie at sea
By Diana the Valkyrie (c) 1998; Valkyrie@TheValkyrie.com
Part 5 - a Game of Netball and a Broken Contortionist
Update: 31/08/1998 to valkyrie

Linda was there, of course, and I gave her the thumbs-up sign, meaning 
"Goal!", and I promised I'd tell her the details later. The big shock, 
though, was that Linda wasn't there to do her cheerleader routine, she 
was there to play. And when I thought about it for half a second, I 
could see it made a lot of sense; Linda's hands were so big she could 
pick the ball up with one hand, and to put the ball through the net, she 
wouldn't have to jump, in fact she'd barely have to reach up. And then I 
realised that she didn't seem to be about to take off her six inch 
heels, she told me she always wore them when there was enough headroom, 
which wasn't that often, actually, since most rooms have ceilings that 
are just seven feet high, seven feet being considered to be quite enough 
for ordinary folk, but being three inches low for Linda in heels. 

Linda in heels playing netball. Never mind about not jumping (not that 
you can in heels), she'd have to bend down to put the ball through the 
basket! Well, not quite, but you see what I mean. 

By acclaim, Linda was the captain of the reds. And I was pretty 
surprised when they insisted I should captain the blues, but I suppose 
my prowess at footie and cricket had impressed them. So we chose up 
sides, and Linda proceeded to wipe the floor with us. 

Netball is a pretty rough game. Well, it was the way we played it. 
"All's fair in love and netball" we'd exclaim, and "Oh, was that your 
shin?" But the trouble was, every time I tried to cannon into Linda, she 
wasn't there. One step takes you rather a long way when your legs are 
about six feet long, and although I ran around energetically and bounced 
into lots of the menfolk, that didn't help much because it was basically 
Linda versus the blue team. 

The other guys on my team weren't much help, either. They were more 
interested in watching Linda than playing netball, so she just ran rings 
round them. When the score was fifty to two (I think Linda let me get 
that score, to avoid the humiliation of a wipe-out), I decided that  
there wasn't any point in prolonging the agony, so I threw in the towel, 
and we all went off to change for dinner. 

"So, you scored?" she asked. I grinned, and made an O with my thumb and 
finger, which is a *very* obscene gesture in Italy, but in America it 
means "perfect". "Oh, Di, that's great, I'm so pleased for you. " "How 
about you and Ben Crump?" ""Oh, he's history" she said. I tupped the 
contortionist today."  I tried to imagine Linda and a contortionist, and 
my imagination boggled. My imagination doesn't often boggle, it's a bit 
like a Volkswagen Beetle stalling. But long lanky Linda and the India 
rubber man? "What did you do?" She gave me a funny look. "No, I mean, I 
know about the birds and the bees, I just wondered what a seven foot 
blonde does with a contortionist?" And we answered in chorus "Anything 
she wants" and then she told me what they did, and I said "That's 
impossible." And she said "That's what I said." And I said "So it was 
possible?" and she said, "Well, no, it wasn't, almost ... but not quite, 
and he's in the infirmary now, apparently it doesn't bend quite that 
far." Oops. "Which leaves a bit of a hole in tonight's show, because 
he's the main feature." Double oops. "So how are you going to cope?" 
"Well, I suppose I could sing and dance a bit" she said. "But you're 
already doing that" and she was, and people were telling me she was 
jolly good at it too. Linda shook her head glumly. "The show must go on, 
if we don't have a contortionist, we'll just have to have a bit more 
dance."  

Should I? Diana, keep your mouth shut, this is none of your business. On 
the other hand, she was the reason why Fried Valkyrie wasn't on the menu 
tonight, and one good turn deserves another, and I'd have been done to 
an extremely good turn it she hadn't rescued me from my own foolishness.  
On the other hand, did I really want the Captain to see what a Valkyrie 
really was? On the other hand, if Linda hadn't stayed out of the bridge 
like she said, I'd probably be hearing all about her and the captain.  
"Linda, if you don't have a contortionist, another dance isn't really a 
substitute, but how about a strong-man act?" "Well yes Di, that would go 
great. But we don't have one." "Yes we do." "You mean you know someone?" 
"Sort of." "Who?"  "Me." "You?" "Yes, me." "But." 

"But what?" "Well, how can you do a strong-man act? You're not a man." 
Irrefutably true. "Well, first of all, let me warn you I've never done 
this as a public entertainment before. But here's my idea. I dress up as 
a man; jacket, trousers, beard and moustache. Hat to hide my hair. You 
introduce me as Dennis the Mighty, or something like that. We can use 
weights from the ship's gym, get some iron bars from Engineering, use 
steel rods if they can't find any six inch nails, there's bound to be 
some phone books on board, and there's a great stunt with a plank and 
chairs. I come on as Dennis, do a couple of moderately impressive 
things, get twelve volunteers up from the audience, and when we've got 
them seated, I explain that if I'm kissed by a beautiful virgin, I 
change into something even more extraordinary, and call for a beautiful 
virgin to volunteer to kiss me." "And?" "And I guarantee you we won't 
get one, so you come and kiss me" "But I'm not a ..." "No-one's going to 
quibble, and when you do, I pull off my hat and false beard, and take 
off the jacket and trousers," "and the moustache" "and the moustache, 
and I'm wearing something slinky and sexy underneath, and you say "It's, 
it's, it's, roll of drums, clash of cymbals ... Diana the Valkyrie!!!" 
and I do the rest of the act." 

"You can do that?" "Sure, Linda, I can do that." "Er, what's the plank 
and chairs thing?" "Twelve guys, reckon on 200 pounds each, 2400 pounds, 
get them seated and gripping the arms of the chair so they don't do 
anything silly, plank across the lot, just under the seats. And a rope 
across my shoulders, secured to the plank on either side. And I lift the 
whole thing off the ground." "You can do that?" she said again. "Sure, 
Linda, I can do that." "Wow. I mean, like, wow. But, but how?" 

"Well, Linda, you're six foot nine, you're taller than any man or woman 
on the ship, and you knew you would be even before you came on board, 
right?" "Right. And in heels, I've never met anyone taller than me." 
"Okay, well I'm five foot five, and I'm stronger than any man or woman 
on the ship, and I knew I would be before I came on board. I'm a 
Valkyrie." "I've heard you say that before, I wasn't really sure what it 
means." "I'm not entirely sure myself, but we think it's genetic, and 
our biggest Valkyrie expert thinks that we're actually the remnants of a 
distinct subspecies; Homo Valkyrensis, like Homo Sapiens or 
Neanderthalis. Anyway, I'll happily do a strong-man act for you, it'll 
be rather fun." 

So for the next few hours, we whirlwinded through the ship gathering a 
costume, and props for the act, and by ten thirty, we were as ready as 
we'd ever be, and the show started. I came on at eleven, dressed as 
"Dennis the Mighty" (in retrospect, it was a bit too close to Dennis the 
Menace, but never mind). Rumours had gone round the ship about something 
astounding in the show, and the ship's theatre was packed. Even Linda's 
slightly broken contortionist was there.