Interview with an Ogress

            Good evening readers, CB Smith here, filling in for Chris Hamm while he is on vacation. Tonight I am live from just outside Hólmavík, Iceland, known around the world for their famous Witchcraft and Sorcery Museum. Tonight we are not here for potions and spells but for one of the rarest and most sought after interviews of the century. The infamous Grýla, usually leaves her cave only at Christmas time to search for naughty children but tonight she has agreed to sit down with us at ‘Tis The Season so that the world can finally see what it is that drives this iconic ogress.



No photographic evidence was collected of Gryla however our reporter was able to make out this sketch after the interview.  Please remember her hands were frozen and she was nearly unconscious due to hypothermia.   Under the circumstances it’s quite an accurate depiction.



CB: Good Evening Mrs Gryla, or can I just call you Gryla?

G: Gryla’s fine.

CB: Eh, thank you for meeting with me tonight. You have a lovely cave here.  Do you mind if I have the recorder on?

G: Just no pictures.  If I find out you got some hidden camera in that thing….

CB: (laughs nervously) No, no!  No cameras, I promise.  So Gryla, according to Icelandic legend you have been seeking out naughty children to turn into a Christmas time stew since the 13^th century. Any particular bad qualities you look for when you go out kid hunting?

G: It varies from year to year.  The spoilt, thumbsucker, gimme gimme brats are usually too full of fat so I can’t take too many of them, lucky putrid things. On the other hand the pick pockets and runaways can be too stringy and sinewy.  It’s an art of balance really.

CB: If your stew tastes anything like it smells in here that must really be something.

(Long pause. Sounds of chairs scuffling)

CB: Right, with the current climate generally frowning upon making soup out of children have you ever thought of changing up your recipe?

G: Why should I?  Why does it always have to be me who changes? Huh?!  Years ago parents were begging me to take the rotten ones off their hands but now all of the sudden with the age of political correctness I’m the big bad witch just because once a year, ONCE A YEAR I FEED MY FAMILY…”

Leppalúði calls from back of cave: Gryla, remember your image.

CB: Was that your husband?

G: “harrumph” noise (assuming the affirmative).

CB: Um, Leppalúði is your third husband, correct?

G: Yeh, so?

CB: What happened to your first two husbands?

G: I don’t see how my personal life is any of your business.

(Giggles can be heard from the back of the cave)

CB: Right…um…are your boys back there too?

G: Yep.

CB: How is it being the mother of the famous Yule Lads?

(Loud thump as a spoon hits CB in the forehead and clatters to the gound)

G: (snorts) How do you think?

CB: I assume that was from your son known as Þvörusleikir or SpoonLicker as he is known to all the non-Icelandic folk?

G: Probably, hard to tell with so many of them.

(The Yule Cat comes form the back of the cave and sits at Gryla’s feet)

CB: Well, Hello pretty kitty (sound of chair creaking as CB reaches to pet cat).

Yule Cat: Hisssssssssssssssssssss!

G: Unless that natty sweater you have on is less than a year old I would recommend keeping your grubby mitts to yourself.

CB: Right…ok…. So, Gryla. There have been some recent accusations that you had something to do with last year’s volcanic eruption.

G: Now you hold on just one minute!  My agent told you the volcano was off limits.

CB: It’s just the Icelandic people thought it may be retribution for not letting you steal off with their naughty children quite so easily….”

G: I told you no volcano questions!  That’s it! This interview is over!  Leppalúði, get my lawyer on the phone and you GET OUT OF MY CAVE!

CB: But…wait. Um….

G: GET OUT!

CB: But, it’s -30 degrees outside and the snow plow isn’t coming back for 30 minutes. Can’t I… (sound of chair turning over and Yule Cat growling)

G: OUT!

CB: AHHRRGG!!! Get your cat off of me!  I’m leaving…I’m leaving.

(sound of large rock being rolled over cave entrance)

CB: This is CB Smith signing off from outside Gryla’s cave.  If no one hears from me I am most likely frozen and can hopefully be thawed out in spring. (sounds of teeth chattering) Someone needs to explain to me how Chris gets to go get his jollies in sunny Thailand and I get sent here to this arctic hellhole. Can anyone hear me?? Anyone??  Santa??  HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Update:  CB was rescued shortly after taping by the Icelandic Women’s Olympic dog sledding team.  After a few hours in a boiling hot bath she was revived intact with the exception of a few toes here and there.  The full effect of the frost bite on her feet has not yet been determined.  Thank you to all concerned.

Today’s blog has been brought to you by Role Reversals.  This post contains words by Clara Batton Smith and artwork by Chris Hamm.  Next post we return to our regularly scheduled program.

Kitten Chow

     Created as an incentive to bring in the wool harvest each year the Icelandic Yule Cat travels the Nordic country during the holiday season with an appetite for children who have not received new articles of clothing for Christmas.  She’s quite happy with the current economic situation in Iceland.  This scary kitty lives in a cave with the equally vicious child eating ogre Gryla and her third husband Leppaluoi as well as their gang of Yule Lads. The Yule Cat’s weapons of choice are razor sharp claws and teeth. 



Having received the latest in Nordic children’s wear this holiday season most of the Hauksson offspring were safe from the voracious appetite of the Icelandic Yule Cat. However, little Inga had an uneasy feeling as she unwrapped a wooden marionette wearing nothing but a smile.



    

Something Krampus This Way Comes

            The mythical horned demon known as Krampus is recognized in Alpine countries as companion and counterpart to St. Nicholas during the Christmas season and mainly during the first two weeks of December.  In stark contrast to the joy delivered by St. Nicholas, this vengeful creature strapped with rusty chains and a cow bell makes it his business to dole out punishment to bad children everywhere.  His weapon of choice is the birch rod.

As St. Nicholas delivered holiday cheer to the homes of well behaved boys and girls elsewhere in the Austrian town of Salzburg, Krampus, horned creature and swift hand of justice to all bad children during Christmas time looked in on the home of Manfred, glutton and constant tormentor of younger sister Agatha. Manfred’s lederhosen burst at the seams as he fed on the basket of apple strudel that had been left for St. Nicholas in hopes that only joy would come to the house of Pfeifenberger this holiday season.  Deciding that young Manfred was something of an asshole, Krampus firmly grasped his birch rod considering one lash per greedy bite while trying to contain the holiday cheer he himself was suddenly overcome with over the chastisement of this little piglet.

For Whom the Jingle Bell Tolls



Jolly Old Saint Nicholas with the Krampus, Le Père Fouettard,
Mother Flog, the Yule Cat, Zwarte Piet and boxes full
of Christmas elves.

      The rusty chains rattled against the slow ominous ring of the cow bell  as the creature known as Krampus walked slowly toward midnight down the streets of the tiny alpine village clutching a blood stained birch rod, waiting patiently to cross the path of any naughty child.  Yellow candlelight flickered out of tiny windows as he turned his devilish horned head and gazed back over his shoulder toward his companion and counterpart St. Nikolas who heaved breathlessly as he walked over the hill some distance behind carrying a large bag of toys draped over one shoulder.  Krampus winced, irritated by the enormity of the bag. His vengeance on the children of this poor village would be smaller than he had once hoped for.
     This is not the typical opening that would jump to mind when you think of a Christmas story, but in many parts of Europe St. Nicholas has some scary sidekicks that far predate the jolly elves and cast of reindeer that accompany the current Coca-Cola Santa Claus on his mission of joy, delivering toys to little Billy and Katie Colgate.
      Take for instance the french butcher Pere Fouettard who chopped up the bodies of three lost boys then combined them with that of a pig he had brined hoping to capitalize on the extra meat by passing them off as pork.   After being admonished of this sin by St. Nicholas he became a devout follower and helper to his redeemer. One wonders if they had been prison buddies in old St. Niks checkered past. It’s no shock that the nation who brought us the guillotine and bordelaise would serve us Pere Fouettard. 
      Another Christmas nightmare is the Icelandic Yule Cat. Heaven forbid little Fridrika not receive that new wool dress and tail cap she had prayed for all year, for anyone not receiving a new item of clothing on this of all holidays would end up in the belly of this fiendish feline. The Yule Cat is said to reside in a cave with Gryla the child eating ogre and her thirteen Yule Lads, one of which is named Window-Peeper. Guess what this little creep’s favorite pastime is. Happy Holidays Iceland!
     These are only a few of the creatures found in European folklore surrounding the most holy of all holidays.  There are many others with crimes ranging from misdemeanor style pranks geared towards the general population to those with a blood lust focused on the youths of Europe. We will be profiling one of these creatures each week so move over Halloween, Krampus is coming.
     This work is for no other reason than to share the European folklore of centuries past with a dose of dark humor. In no way do we endorse the brutality of children by ogres, gigantic black cats or horned demons.  Nor do we endorse the employment of any former Spanish-Moorish slaves for the convenience of St. Nicholas, aka Santa Claus. As for any Europeans who find fault in our inaccuracies; we’re just two Americans trying to wrap our minds around the fact that Christmas hasn’t always been about sugar plum fairies and candy canes.  We apologize in advance if we offend anyone’s delicate sensibilities.