"DJ the Reporter" interviews a wild barbarian and a tea-sipping goofball. Reports on Vikings Vs. The English Part 2.

Hello once again people who read this blog! So last Friday I left off on my report on the Vikings Vs. The English with me leaving Jarzloft after interviewing Yorloft the Cuddly. He gave some pretty interesting info about how the English ran them out of their home country, and how he thinks cats look tasty. Now lets head over to London, England  and speak with Peter Schwartzmenheimer.

After waving my hand back at Yorloft, buying myself a cheap sword from the blacksmith (because swords are manly bro.), purchasing some fresh cookies from the baker (because cookies are manly bro.), and buying some fluffy fur coats from a kind lady (because, well I think you know what I'm going to say.) I paid for a boat to Europe.

When I finally arrived in Europe I got an awesome surprise. The boat had taken me all the way to London, England! I was expecting it to drop me off in France and I'd have to travel or something. But instead it took me straight to London, so no walking 200 miles for me! Yay! Instead I had to walk 50. Well I didn't technically HAVE to, I just couldn't find this Schwartzmenheimer guys house. So I walked in a huge circle around London for an hour and a half looking for his house, which if you stretched out all the distance I walked, it'd be about 50 miles. I finally decided to ask someone if they knew him. Aren't I a genius for coming up with that idea? I walked up to a middle-aged man, probably in his late 40's, who was pushing a cart over flowing with flowers. Was he a flower salesman? "Excuse me sir?" He looked at me and I noticed he had bright red rosy cheeks. He was also about my height, and he wore a red and black work boots. His hair was slightly gray. Was he the Santa Clause of Flowers? "Yes young man? Would you like to buy some flowers?" His English accent was so rich I can't even describe it by typing it out. I wondered if everyone's voice was like that around here. Why would they be? It's not like I'm in England. "Do you know where I could find a man named Peter?" "Peter who? Peter Phillips? Peter Thomp? Peter-" "Schwartzmenheimer sir." Flower Clause, I decided to call him, looked at me like I was a crazy person. "Why would you want to see HIM?" "I need to ask him a few questions about the vikings." "Young man, did you honestly not see all the signs of him around London? He's our tyrant king!" Hmm. Now that he mentions it, there were a lot of posters of him around London: A tall, red headed, pimply faced Englishmen in a bright red coat and a sword tied to his waist. I didn't know they had advertisement like that back then. I also wondered if everyone around here was trying their best to do Santa Clause cosplay. If they were, my money was on Flower Clause. "Where can I find him?" The old man kept looking at me, like he couldn't believe I still wanted to go see him. "His palace is in the very center of town, but if you go there venture at your own risk Viking. He hates foreigners." Of coarse, the center of town. The one part of town I didn't look in. And Viking? I looked down at myself and noticed I was still wearing my my Viking style fur coats. "Oh, I'm not a viking sir. These are my hunting clothes." I lied. Flower Clause chuckled. "Well don't let any guards see you in that, unless you want a sword to the gut." "Thanks for the advice.." This guy was kinda creepy. I started running in the direction of the palace and heard Flower Clause yelling to me "Anytime young man! If you ever need some flowers, you know where to find me!" I waved my hand back at him and kept running. When I got into view of the palace, I remembered something crucial. "He hates foreigners." Uh oh. I saw some guards coming in my direction and I dove into a back alley. They kept walking with legs held high and hats even higher. After they had passed, I sneaked into a a house to look for clothes. There was a woman nearby hanging up clothes, so I had to be quiet. After looking for five minutes in this tiny, original English-apartment style building I found some clothes. A pair of black boots, brown gloves, and a red coat with a black cross on the back. I tried them on and they fit perfectly. Now if only I was blonde and had longer hair I'd look just like the Fullmetal Alchemist. Before I could finish thinking how awesome I looked I heard footsteps coming into the house. It was the lady from outside! Without thinking (which I'm pretty good at) I jumped out the closest window before she could see me. Fortunately for me the window was only 4 feet off the ground. Unfortunately I landed flat on my face with a loud THUD! After laying there for a minute, and having a cat walk over my head, I got up and headed Schwartzmenheimers palace. After walking for 10 minutes I finally reached the palace gate, but right when I was about to walk in "STOP!". I turned around to see what was talking to me. What I saw was an ogre of a guard, looming over me with a huge Greatsword in his hands! I didn't think they still used those in this age! He was at least 7 feet tall, and around 400 pounds. Unfortunately all that weight was muscle. He wasn't the most attractive looking guy either. His face said "HEY KID GIMME ALL YOUR MONEY OR ILL KILL YOU...REPEATEDLY!". If I were to sum up this guy, he looked like the son of Shrek and Beth Phoenix, but got Shrek's looks and Beth's muscle. "NOW  WHERE DO YOU THINK YER' GOIN' YOUNG MAN? SCRAM!" I looked at him for a minute, then decided to go away. PSYCH! Instead. I walked around to the back the palace and jumped the wall. It was way too easy, because there were no guards! Whoever this Peter guy was he was really stupid, because he only had guards at the front gate. As I snuck into the house I could hear Shrek Phoenix yelling "GIMME COOKIE!" to a passing civilian. Just wow.

After sneaking around the palace for a few minutes I began to notice a few things. #1: The inside of the house was pure white! Everything was white, there was no other color in the house. It must really stink if someone accidentally spills grape juice on the everything. #2:  There were no guards outside because they were all inside! Everywhere you looked there was a guard, all with an English Longsword in their hands. They too were wearing nothing but white. How they didn't see me though, I'm not sure. It's kinda hard to miss a tan kid in red and black walking right past you in a house that's entirely white. But hey, maybe I'm just that awesome. I finally found my way into the main room where Peter was residing. When I walked in I found something that made my jaw drop. The entire room was made out of every kind of color you could imagine! Red, blue, green, yellow, purple, black, opal, burgindene, brown, aquamarine, and many, many others! Now all you needed was a disco ball in here and you'd have a recipe for seizures. Sitting in the middle of the room was a man in a suit that was every color of the rainbow. I started to move closer to him when I stepped on a stick A conveniently placed stick in the middle of a hippies wonderland. The man in the chair turned around to face me. "HAHA! Looks like you fell for my genius trap! I call it, The You Step On This Stick And It Makes A Loud Noise So I know You're Coming Trap!" I could tell already this guy was crazy. He was almost as tall as Shrek Phoenix outside, but he wore a suit like you'd find one of those dancers singing "Hello my lady, Hello my darling!" in the 1960's. Even weirder was the color of the suit. Well, more like color's. Just like this room, his suit was every color you could think of. He had a sword tied to his waist, and the handle was also rainbow colored. I wondered if the blade was rainbow colored as well, and if he cut you with it you'd turn into Nyan Cat and spend the rest of your life flying around in space pooping out rainbows. I wouldn't be surprised. "Are you Peter Schwartzmenheimer?" I asked. "DEPENDS! Who vants to know?" he hollered at me. He had the face of a psycho as well: Messy red hair, cross-eyes, and a grin that reminded me a lot of the Cat-erpillar from Alice in Wonderland. "My name is DJ. I'd like to ask you a few questions about the vikings." "WHO LET YOU IN HERE? WAS IT MARIA? I'LL GET THAT GIRL!" he said shaking his fist to the sky. "No one lit me in sir. I let myself in." "WHO IS THIS NO ONE PERSON? I'LL GET HIM TOO!" he said, still shaking his fist to the sky. "Can I ask you some questions or no?" "Ok sit down." he said with a completely sane voice. Yep, this guy is crazy. I sat down in a multicolored chair and pulled out my notepad. "So, Mr. Peter-" "Call me Peter." he said, rudely. "OK Peter, what do you think of the Vikings?" "I don't like them." he said flatly. "OK, why not?" "They're heathens. They live in filthy climates, they hardly cook their food, they wear animal skins as clothes, and ONE TRIED TO EAT MY CAT!" Just then a fat, white fluffy cat walked into the room. He hopped up on Peter's lap and he began petting it like an evil mastermind. "So I ran them out of their homeland. Apparently they didn't like that, not sure why. So they come and raid my kingdom every Thursday and take a ton of silver. Every time they come they take more and more!" "MREOW!" As Peter kept talking about why he hate the vikings, I wrote every word down in my notepad. This guy had a lot to say. But after two hours of talking, I noticed it was getting dark. "AND THEN THIS ONE TIME-" "OK Peter, I'd best get going. It's getting dark and my family will be worrying." I lied, again. "OK, WHATEVER! GOODBYE CJ!" "DJ." "WHATEVER! LEAVE!" So on that happy quote I walked out the door, snuck past Shrek Phoenix who was digging for gold in his nose, and left London. I pulled out my time machine watch and went 1003 years into the future, satisfied with the info I got. My newspaper became a hit sensation, and I became a wealthy man. The End.

Sorry if this was more like a story then a newspaper article, apparently I don't know how to write newspaper articles. So yeah, that's my report on The Vikings Vs. The English. The End.

"DJ the Reporter" interviews a wild barbarian and a tea-sipping goofball. Report on Vikings vs. The English Part 1.

Hello once again people who read this blog! It's another school year so I'm getting back into the blogging business. Sorry for not doing any posts over the Summer, I kinda forgot/was too busy/didn't even think about it. But now I'm back and I'm going to be interviewing an (imaginary) Viking named Yorloft and an (also imaginary) Englishmen named Peter. No not the Peter from Spider-Man. I'm going to be asking them how they felt about each other, and hopefully I won't make them mad and get a war axe/musket to the face. That would be nice. I guess I should make this sound like a legit newspaper huh. OK. Article: Interviewing a wild barbarian and a tea-sipping goofball. My name is DJ. But most people call me DJ. I've traveled back in time (none of your business how) to 1010 because I'd heard about this huge conflict between the English and the Vikings. Today I'm going to be interviewing a local Viking named Yorloft the Cuddly and a kind Englishmen named Peter Schwartzmenheimer. The first place I went to was the famous Viking city of Jarzloft. When I walked into the city I was greeted by many different smells - some incredible, some incredibly revolting. There were women making bread in their old-fashioned ovens, and their servants were buttering the loafs that were cooling. You could hear the constant PING!s of a blacksmith hammering away at a sword, trying to mold it into his desired shape. His wife was nearby, poring some red-hot magma from an iron bucket into a weapon holder. She then lowered it into some water with a loud SHHHHH! Steam went all over the place. There were people everywhere, whether it be blacksmiths making weapons and armor, bakers baking bread and other goodies, children playing in the streets, or adults playing a type of board game that looked like ancient chess. The only thing that wasn't so pleasing was the horrible smell of animal feces. That I could've lived without... After a good 10 minute walk through Jarzloft I finally arrived at Yorloft's house, and I was stunned by what I saw. I had NEVER seen so many sheep before in my life! There was a huge pin to the left of his house, that might've been made of spruce wood, and inside were at least 70 sheep! I stood there counting them for a minute and lost track at about 73. I didn't even know I could count that high. Once I finally took my eyes off the sheep-ageddon pin I noticed something else. Whoever this Yorloft the Cuddly guy was, he loved sheep and farming. Because scattered all around his house were 20 foot long and 20 foot wide and carrot farms! I walked onto his property and found a basket full of purple vegetables. They were carrots! After I thought about it for a second, that made sense. Viking carrots were purple! If I remember correctly it had something to do with the soil. I was tempted to taste it taste it because, the way my mind works, I was wondering if it tasted like a grape. But before I could I heard a powerful voice yelling at me from behind. "Oi! Who are ya, and what are ya doin' on my properteh?" I turned around to see who was yelling at me. He was a fat (with muscle), red headed viking with a wool hood on his head. Actually, everything he wore was made out of wool. His boots, his coats, his pants, everything was made from deer hide and fluffy sheep wool. I wondered if they made wooly-underwear. If they do, I'll have to ask my mom if she can get me some. I also wondered if Vikings would like 2013 American dollar bills. "Are you Yorloft sir?" The red-headed viking kept looking at me. "Maybe, who wants tu know? And what is a 'sir'?" "My name is DJ." I admit, I could've come up with a more viking-like name like Throthgar or something, but I didn't think about it at the time. "I'm a traveler. I came here to ask you a few questions about the English." Yorloft kept looking at me with his big brown eyes. He gestured his hand towards the front door. "Alright, come on in" I gladly did. It was freezing out there! I stepped inside his house and I immediately noticed two things: One, it was actually warm inside. And two, that's probably because everything was made out of wool! The chairs, the tables, the walls, the floor, the roof, even the fireplace was made out of wool! I wondered how it wasn't catching on fire. I looked over to where the chair was and I found an even bigger surprise. "BAAAH!" There was a sheep in the house. Really. Yorloft walked up to his chair and sat in it, and the sheep jumped up on his lap. Yorloft began, well, cuddling it. I guess that's where he got his name from. I sat on the table, which felt more like a beanbag chair then a table. "So tell me what you think of the English." He looked at me and whistled for his sheep to get down. "Ye English are bad people, bad I tell you. They made us leave our home country, just because we weren't as 'clean' as them. So we took matter into our own hands. We sailed over to their kingdom, burned most of their city to the ground, and took as much silver as we could find. Ye English are scyared of us now. They pay us a very large amount of silver every Thorsday. If they dun't have enough, we threaten em. But none of this vwould've happened if they hadn't started it. And they took my sheepies too! They bad people! bad!" "BAAAH!" As Yorloft kept talking about the English I wrote down the thing's he said in my note pad. "Why exactly did the English run you out of Europe?" "Vwhats 'Europe'?" "Never mind. Why did they chase you away?" "Because we lived in huts and didn't have pretty four-legged beasts." "Horses?" "Vwhats a 'Horse'?" "Never mind. Any other reasons?" "Vwell, I might have thought one of their fluffy little creatures looked tasty..." "A cat?" "Vwhats a 'cat'? OK. That was getting annoying. "Well thanks for the help Yorloft. I best be going now." "Alright, I'll show ye out." I walked out the door into the cold, which actually felt kinda good now. "Bye DJ of Travelers!" "BAAAH!" I waved my hand back at them, and left Jarzloft for Europe. That's the end of Part 1 on my report. Part 2 will come next week. I've actually been studying vikings all week for history class, so that's why mom decided to make me do a news report on them. But I don't think this is what she expected. I got the picture from www.Google.com, and no it is not a picture of Yorlaft. The End.