James Boland

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The Indignant Bastard Troll

The clouds parted and gave way to a sunbeam that unveiled a most peculiar toadstool, wet and frothy, in front of a gnarled maple, barely noticable beside the cluster of sumac. Out from underneath the toadstool jumped the Indignant Bastard Troll. With a smile of false gratitude, he thanked the toadstool sarcastically for dripping on his green suede slippers while he slept and with a spiteful laugh, he stomped on it.

"I am the Indignant Bastard Troll and DON'T YOU FORGET IT! I stave off greedy clerks who try to rescue shopping carts from the drainage ditch! I falsified documents to have this empty lot declared a historical landmark! Who pities the gypsy moth caterpillar more than I," cried the troll, "whenceforth another creature peel double-sticky-sided clear tape from the trees with his teeth! Might anyone other than myself be so compassionate as to treat those helpless scoundrels, those pitiful delicacies with the diplomacy it takes to realize that the struggling and dying little fuzzy dear morsels need be consumed by a friend and not left to bubble up and rot in the sun?! Take heed, I pray you! The last of the tromping has not been realized! Before the day is through, sweet toadstool, I'll have mashed you into a screwy pulp of mush! My only hope, for the sake of your fungus friends, is that you don't throw me into such a tiffy that I burn my own feet off in a fiery blaze of confused self-rightousness and set the entire town ablaze. You have been warned!"

With that, the Indignant Bastard Troll proceeded to spit into his hands and rub them over his jugular. With a shriek of delight, he began to jog in place, faster and faster, and his hairpiece fell out of place. Because the ground was so mossy and wet, the "spwewch!" sound made as it fell to the ground was far from alarming to the troll and he didn't even realise what had happened. As noon drew nearer, the troll's brain began to smolder and bake, as it was housed in a topless skull, no longer shaded by the gerbil fur hairpiece, or "thinking cap" as the Indignant Bastard Troll preferred.

Lucky for him, a low flying plane crashed into the side of the supermarket and looters stormed the ailes, throwing cans through the store's windows and injuring the other equally important shoppers. As a reward for all his troubles, the Indignant Bastard Troll was relegated to spectator status for the most glorious event of his life. The supermarket owner was cast into the flaming wreck and was instructed to move debris out of the way and stab the captain when he located the cockpit. The store owner gladly agreed to this, seeing as how he was cast into a flaming Boeing 747 (or perhaps a spaceship, he thought in a moment of panic) to avenge himself upon the leader of the looters who trashed his store. He triumphantly vowed, as the flames consumed his clothing, to emerge a murderer or not at all. The innocent bystanders cheered and the Indignant Bastard Troll felt vindicated in his last moments as his brain fried to a crispy steak, leaving a putrid black resin, while at the same time, the clerk also died with a tight grip on a butcher knife plunged into a seat cushion.

©1996 James Boland

Other Writings
The Great Elf
The Lady From The Supermarket
Neal
She'll Piss Herself
The Unauthorized Biography Of Mike Bellina

 

   

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