Dear Mr. Thor Odinson of Asgard,
Good evening, my dear pale-skinned, Viking-in-Valhalla sir. I convey my deepest wishes that this letter finds you and yours in good health. I, too, am in good health...
...Of a sort.
I understand that this letter may in fact appear to you to be unsolicited and untoward. However, you will soon learn that it is for a most urgent and dire purpose.
By courtesy of my dash, it has since come to my attention that you are expecting a third movie in your name and honor. I do confess that, years ago, I attended your first movie in theaters with ambivalence and subsequent minor enjoyment. Indeed, I left the theater with not an ounce of interest piqued in you and your world.
I confess that I did not even bother to attend your second movie in theaters. I also confess that I have managed a grand total of one time to watch it, straight-through on the device known as a DVD.
You may not have enjoyed your times in both Avengers movies, as you have been slighted as though you were a minor, insignificant character. Of a truth, you may have been so slighted that surely you have had the least lines of all the heroes present.
Thus, I understand your excitement for the upcoming Thor: Ragnarok. I do.
Truly, it does appear that, after scandalously so, so long a time, you and your story shall be done justice. It is being directed by the brilliant, criminally attractive Taika Waititi. The colors are vibrant and robust. The action is gorgeously choreographed. Hela is a worthy, most-terrifying villain. Valkyrie is, as we say, black-black-blackity-black and glorious. The stakes are dangerously high and understandable. And your brother is...present.
I am acutely pleased to inform you that I have watched the recently-released trailer perhaps no less than 10 times. Truthfully, this is the movie of yours that I intend to see in theaters with great enthusiasm and interest. And so I, too, am quite excited.
But your celebratory thunderstorms sir, are quite frankly getting out of hand.
Far, far out of hand.
I must impress upon you the dire nature of this situation: for the past week and a half, you have allowed sunshine and mostly-clear skies during the early mornings. And onward, from as early as the afternoon to as late as 8 o’clock in the evening-indeed, your fancy is quite random- your thunder rumbles, your lightening flashes, and you command the heavens to release their torrent and downpour upon Midgard, the realm that I and many, many others inhabit.
This has been the order of the days for the past week. And a half.
I and many others are quite certain that you do this not out of malice, but out of excitement. Sir, I do beg you to be considerate of us mortal Midgardians. I, for one, am most inconvenienced. I cannot wear my gorgeous white summer dress with my sky-blue flip flops. I cannot go for an evening walk. I cannot dally in the shower as I co-wash my ‘fro. I cannot abide by this fiendish humidity as it terrorizes my ‘fro.
And unfortunately, the weekly forecast for my area denotes that you shall continue this trend evermore as the summer lasts.
I am asking you, with utmost respect and sincerity, to please feel your excitement as you wish, but also to quell your penchant to summon thunderstorms as it strikes your fancy.
Please, sir. I cannot live.
Tl;dr: One of you Thor stans, come and get your bae and tell him to calm the hell down so I can live.