Handling a troll
After the last few weeks of insanity that is my life I thought it was time to escape while she was selling her stuff at the Cranbrook Farmers Market. I had 4 hours to plan and implement my strategy. I figured I would be safe. I figured wrong.
I had made it out through the hole in the screen door and carefully slid along the side of the house, stopping when I heard a noise in the flower beds.
Meet her first line of defence. An army of trolls and other creatures protecting the perimeter of the house. Okay. Yes. They may look innocent enough but do not be deceived by their size. Especially the rock troll on the right. Trolls may not be that bright but they are almost always unfriendly.
The trio of mushroom heads in the back row whistled in three part harmony and the next thing I know I am confronted with these 2 crazed “Vikings”.
Erik the Red spoke first, “and where do you think you’re going?”
“Just out for a morning stroll. Filling these old lungs with some fresh mountain air,” I replied, backing away from the two of them.
Knut the Great chimed in, madly waving his shovel around narrowly missing my new hat, “not thinking of going anywhere are you?”
“No, of course not. Now why would I want to do that. I love it here. Things couldn’t be better.” I turned, slid back along the outside wall and crawled through the hole in the screen door.
Signed a displaced Swedish Tomte with no name.