Born of an unknown seaman and rapscallion lady who made ends meet to survive, he hadn't known much kindness in his life. Maybe that was the explanation for his unforgiving nature. He never forgave anyone. Woe betide you if you accidentally jostled him in the street. He would hunt you down and put itching powder in the bed of every member of your family. But I was careful not to upset the scary troll. He was watching TV and chatting on snap chat whilst I feigned a bathroom emergency. I slipped into the secret vault and took back the goats he had hidden for emergency food. They bleated happiness, the sweet things, until the troll found out I had been rummaging around places I wasn't supposed to. He sprang up and down in his trampoline boots. "Well this is going to be a short fight" I laughed. The troll didn't like my short joke, but I was on a roll. I reached out to pat him on the head and quick as lightning his left leg whipped out and swept my feet out from under me. I landed hard, my breath knocked out of me. Wassamatter the troll asked, a little short on air? "I'll show you short." I said while I swung my Dwarvin battle-spanner at the troll's ankles. Regrettably, he toppled onto my supine body. "Get'r orf!" I squeeked. But it was too late. The troll had crushed me into a paste with his thick torso. "Lard help me!" he moaned, "I've killed Peter Pan and turned him onto butter!" Frantically he tried To do the same with any snowflake students. No safe zones for anyone, Professor Ziti told them. His troll heritage was obvious. Blimey! Just when the paste was baked at 350 degrees we remembered the last 10 degrees! That meant a blind spot! We dragged ourselves out of the Cradle to wind up here at the Cusp, with a 123 billion year old 10 degree blind spot.

 

Comments

1 Futique's photo

More about the blind spot.
http://foldingstory.com/834bq/

2 Futique's photo

I really wish I had used the symbol instead of the word.

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