Trollheart

Ah, gather round the fire, children, and ignore the howling wind outside (must remember to fix that window!) and I shall tell ye the oft-related tale of the venerable Trollheart, who one day did stumble him 'pon the land foretold by the sages, and also the thymes, rosemarys and the odd basil, a land of wond'rous discourse and vitriol, and occasional music. In this great land dwelt such legendary figures as the one known as Urban, Jack O'Hammer and the mighty one, she who ne'er bestrode a horse in her life, the famed Pedestrian. Also in this mythic crew were He From the Land of Frown, The Third One Who Is Large, The Eternal Listener, She Who Doth Burn Down and many other luminaries.

And some wanker called the Batlord.

And into this wild and untamed land strode the young knight, stout of heart but weak of bowel, and lo! Lasted he not long, for thin was his skin, and the many and varied comments directed against him did soothly (it's a word I made up, want to fight about it?) assail his shield, this being in a time before the Hawk, when things were not UnAssailable. And struck down by barb and jest, he did retreat and hie him the **** out of there, with many a snarled retort (though none in a voice any man could hear, yea, were he to strain his ears to the utmost, nor even using the trumpet of the ear) declaring 'twas an evil place, and he would no more darken its dread doors.

All of this, my gentle children, is said to have taken place in the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Eight.

Yea, truly! Exile was his lot. And wandr'ing lone and bored the **** out of his head three long years to the day did this thought enter his mind, and it was this. This was the very thought, and he thought this: what the **** is wrong with me? I'm going back!

For a truly wonderful thing had happened, my children. The errant knight had grown him a spine,yea, and indeed a pair into the bargain. And so, armed with new thickened skin with a lifelong guarantee, return in 100 days if not completely satisfied, though good luck getting your money back as we will be long gone, drinking Mai Tais on a beach somewhere, did he again enter the fray, and gaveth as good as he got. Eth. Or something.

And 'twas indeed a sad day, children, for the moral of the story be: once Trollheart doth lodgeth himself somewhere, tis well nigh impossible to get him the **** out of there. Many times since hath he retreated in sulking pout, only to come back again, just when all believed it safe.

And now, my children, thinkest I it is time for you to be heading home, lest yon guardians of the peace twig mine game and search mine room. Not that they would find any incriminating videos, nay, not even a hidden hard drive with questionable images 'pon its carven surface, but still, as the sages doth say: better safe than sorry! Out now, and home to your parents. You have none? Ah, then, in that case...

**** off anyway. What dost thou thinketh this is, a doss house? Where be mine shotgun?

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018