Vikings is a fantasy novel (unless it’s a science fiction novel) set mostly in the present day. The tone is mostly light (the epigraph is from Douglas Adams) but it isn’t farcical. It concerns one Michael Henderson, who just wants to eat his lunch in peace:
When the Viking war party burst through the front entrance of Dino’s Burgers & More, it was second nature for me to slide quietly under my table. When you’re small for your age, it’s often useful not to be noticed. Once on the floor I waited on events, peering out as best I could past the swivel seats, and wondering what was going to happen. Vikings are not a usual sight at Dino’s. I could tell they were Vikings, because they were wearing bear-skins and helmets with horns on them. There were six or seven of them, all heavily armed. I use the word “heavily” with precision—the battle axes they were toting so nonchalantly looked too big for me to lift. I admit to being suspicious of their motives. Most people I see walking into Dino’s, I figure they are there to eat something. Vikings, well, you have to assume Vikings are there for plunder. The big question in my mind was, were they planning to plunder the living or the dead?
Michael’s lunch is thoroughly spoiled by the incursion; and yes, I’m well aware the horned helmets are questionable. Trust Me; All Shall Be Explained.