A punch is thrown. Feelings are hurt.

Part 2, War on the Floor II

by Dave McAwesome

Thor: You gonna come quietly? Or are we gonna do this Viking style?
Zombie Pope: Your pagan foolery is no match for the good graces of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ.
Thor: Your boy wouldn't last twenty seconds in a longboat.
ZP: Eat holy water.

Thor: Oooh...stings...kinda. Might wanna run that through a Brita filter a few times.
ZP: A Brita? Pfft, this is filtered only through God himself.
Thor: Hell, I'm a god too and I wouldn't touch yer toilet water.
ZP: Wha--no! There is only one God.
Thor: No, for serious. Check it out.

Thor: Give it back!

ZP: That's sanctified ooze, bub. You can't get that out of deer skin.
Thor: No one stains the clothes of Odinson without suffering the harshest of penalties. Dost thou knoweth with whom thy tangle? I am Thor, god of thunder. You are Zombie Pope, worm-ridden ex-pontiff and textbook case of decomposition. If I so much as sneeze on you, you'll turn to dust.
ZP: I am a servitor of the one true God and you, dear sir, are a false idol.
Thor: Pretty handsome, tho, ya gotta admit.
ZP: I admit nothing. You should've stopped by when you were 12. THEN we could've partied.

Thor: Hey, there's something on your nose.
ZP: Probably just puss.
Thor: No, it's something else.
ZP: What is it?

ZP: Oh yeah? There's something on your face too.

ZP: Taste zombie doom, pagan.
Thor: Here you go again. Knockin' on the pagans. Ease up on that sacramental wine: You're full of yourself.

Thor: Remember when I said Hades still had my hammer?
ZP: Yeah...

ZP: Your sin, Viking? Arrogance. Your penance? Thirty Hail Marys and a can o' whupass.
Thor: Ho there. What's that?
ZP: It's...it's a colossal man.

Read the nerve-rattling conclusion in part 3, Enter Galactus.
Or go back to the main War on the Floor page.