TROLL CODE 137 – Kirsten Allen

Brog was a troll. He was as big an ox. He was as green as the slimiest pond water. His rock sized teeth (with a few missing) were as yellow as snot. And he lived under a bridge. All as a troll should be. Except for one thing. Everyone knows that all trolls have a big mud coloured hairy wart on the end of their chins. That is all trolls apart from Brog. He desperately wanted a wart like the other trolls at school.

“Your chin is as bald as a bowling ball! You’re not a real troll and we don’t want to play with you!” Blomp the largest troll said unkindly. All the other trolls laughed and sang “Brog is a big bald bowling ball! Brog is a big bald bowling ball!”

Poor Brog! He clomped off as fast as his big two toed troll feet could carry him and hid in a cave.

He heard footsteps. “GO AWAY!” he shouted in his biggest scariest troll voice. “THIS IS MY HIDING SPACE SO GET OUT!” He bellowed. But the footsteps didn’t go away. They got closer and closer. They belonged to his teacher Ms Blod. “Would you like to talk?” she asked. Brog glared and shook his head. He was so angry and upset he didn’t want to talk to anyone. But when Ms Blod put her arm around him, giant slimy troll tears started to roll down his face and landed in a big SPLURP on the floor. “I heard what those young trolls said. It was unkind. Even for trolls.”

Brog dried his eyes, blew his gooey nose on the back of his sleeve (that hadn’t been washed for at least a month!) and listened. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve had a little chat with them and reminded them of Troll Code number 137: All trolls must be kind to other trolls. If you’d like to come with me, I think there’s something they’d like to say.”

Brog followed Ms Blod. What could they possibly have to say that would make any difference? At the far end of the bog, the other trolls stood looking very ashamed of themselves.

“We’re sorry we broke Troll Code 137 and even more sorry that we hurt your feelings.” They said. “We shouldn’t have called you names and should have let you play with us.”

Blomp stepped forward. “We know it won’t make up for how we made you feel, but we have a little present for you. We made it ourselves.” And there, made of dried badger dung, mud and bristly troll ear hairs (the wax was still on the warm side) was the biggest most disgusting wart that Brog had ever seen. “I don’t know what to say! Thank you! It’s perfect! But….” He paused and took a deep brave breath “I’m afraid I can’t accept it.”

The other trolls gasped. “It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s the best and ugliest wart I’ve ever seen. It’s just that I don’t need it anymore.”

“What do you mean?” The trolls were puzzled. “We thought you wanted your very own chin wart more than anything in the world!”

“I did,” explained Blod. “But I don’t need it anymore because I like being me. As I am. Wartless.”

“We like that you are you too. Wartless or not.” Then together as friends, they went off stomping, clomping and burping to the stinkiest part of the bog to laugh and play until the sun went down.