A Troll

When it had happened was up for debate. Was it a specific event or was it a gradual process? A process of losing his humanity to become what he was to be. Most wouldn’t know it to look at him. Even after conversing with him you may still think him ok . His disguise was that good. Honing it over decades he wore it tight against his skin, it had become his skin and so much more.

In his younger days he was not unlike everyone else. Playing games and making friends. Happy most of the time he enjoyed a stable house, though somewhat lacking in affection. Watching and learning he grew. His eyes and ears soaking in everything that occurred around him. Soon he knew how best to get what he wanted. Manipulating those around him with ease. It was as if they longed to please him, willingly going out of their way. Weak minded is how he began to consider them. By the time he had reached adulthood he was already well on his way.

Sad that he didn’t see early on the price he was paying, for his praying on others. His using reached new heights when he discovered the power that money held. This is the point that most would agree that he turned. Losing the last vestiges of humanity at such an early age. Money was his new weapon, what people would do to get some of it. What utter control he wielded.

If only there was a mirror, a mirror that reflected the true image of the man. Not the image of the handsome well dressed man. The image of the troll that lurked below. Ugly and abusive he now drew life from his behavior. Sucking from others willing to debase themselves to live.

He grew in power and stature. Becoming arrogant in his power. Time and time again he would reach a new low. Caring not who he destroyed or how he behaved towards others.

Women were and are his worst victims, from small casual remarks of what they could do to him honey. To the victims that needed money. Willing because of need to do his worst perversions. The image in the truth mirror would have lost any remaining resemblance to a human at this point in his life. Twisted and perverse the image would be a thing of nightmares. Spitting it’s poison phlegm while smiling.

Decades came and went in his little kingdom of lies. His power growing.

Today he believed himself untouchable, as all trolls end up believing. Today this troll fancied some chocolate cake. Down at the diner that always hired those young hotties. Barely dressed runaways most of them, what they wouldn’t do for a twenty. He rolled into the parking lot parking where he always did. His vanity plate proclaiming his arrival.

“Trolking”had arrived

What he didn’t know though would kill him, this troll king was going to be dethroned. A series of events where beginning to play out. While innocent in nature an almost impossible chain reaction was being set up one piece at a time.

A few minutes earlier an elderly couple had an accident, his plate of meatloaf and mashed had hit the floor. Slippery gravy was everywhere. Tattoo Bob the dishwasher was told to clean it up. Bob didn’t complain, he never did. He was slow though, hung over and shaking he was still working on it when the king came in. The troll was mad immediately, he wasn’t going to be able to sit in his usual spot. The spot that afforded the best view.

Fuming he sat down across from the counter bar and whistled to the new girl to come on over and take his order. She wasn’t quite quick enough so so he had to add “Come on pumpkin get that sweet ass in gear”

Now Anne was always a nervous girl to begin with but now she was almost visibly shaking.

Bob meanwhile had needed a break and left the mop leaning against the counter.

The troll had given Anne his order for chocolate cake and milk, giving her a pat on the butt as she turned away. Laughing at her jumping and yelping.

The cake was on the counter covered in glass. Not seeing the cake cutter Anne ran to the kitchen for a knife. The eight inch carving knife had just been sharpened. Cutting him his big piece that he had asked for she laid the knife across the counter.

Shaky tattoo Bob had returned and reaching for the mop slipped in the remaining gravy. Falling he grabbed the mop on his way down. As if in slow motion the handle slid along the counter coming to the knife handle sticking out over the edge. Suddenly coming back to full speed it flipped the knife, like an arrow it flew past Anne placing the cake on the table.

The troll king had the briefest of moments to grasp what was happening, with a sickening sound of steel entering flesh it sank into his left eye. Anne screamed and stepped back as he fell forward face first into his chocolate cake. Driving the knife to the hilt. This troll was dead.

The news traveled fast through the small town, gossip turning to folklore in the days and years ahead. Tattoo Bob getting many a drink to tell the story. Anne never served or ate another piece of chocolate cake. The cake cutter was never found.