Short Story: Misunderstood
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Written by
Jay Leffew
Most people would shudder at the sight of them, but really, you shouldn't judge by appearances; deep down there's a hurt little dwarf, who wishes you'd see how kind he is, and resents the way people try to run screaming from him and his kind. It's a business transaction anyway, and you're cheating if you try to avoid things...
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"Who's that, trip-trapping over my bridge!?"
"Oh, it's me, Billy-goat Gruff"
Now here, you see, when I say, "Pay me, or I'll eat you all up!" I'm just asserting my authority as Toll-master. I have been known to get a good meal out of it, but usually it's a donated roast chicken...
These three do it every time, and my good nature lets them get away with it. Little billy-goat Gruff isn't much of a meal, I agree, and off he goes, then Big Billy-goat Gruff comes along, and tells me Great big Billy-goat Gruff would be a much better meal, well, to be honest I'm not all that keen on goat-meat anyway, and facing Great Big Billy-goat Gruff? Well, suffice it to say I learned my lesson the first time, when he butted me halfway across Lincolnshire.
We have an understanding. Their toll is paid, and paid quite deliciously I might add. What puzzles…
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Short Story: Misunderstood
This piece has not been edited by the ShortbreadStories team.
"Who's that, trip-trapping over my bridge!?"
"Oh, it's me, Billy-goat Gruff"
Now here, you see, when I say, "Pay me, or I'll eat you all up!" I'm just asserting my authority as Toll-master. I have been known to get a good meal out of it, but usually it's a donated roast chicken...
These three do it every time, and my good nature lets them get away with it. Little billy-goat Gruff isn't much of a meal, I agree, and off he goes, then Big Billy-goat Gruff comes along, and tells me Great big Billy-goat Gruff would be a much better meal, well, to be honest I'm not all that keen on goat-meat anyway, and facing Great Big Billy-goat Gruff? Well, suffice it to say I learned my lesson the first time, when he butted me halfway across Lincolnshire.
We have an understanding. Their toll is paid, and paid quite deliciously I might add. What puzzles me is how come the goat-herds don't know about me. Every one of them is surprised to see me before I gobble them up. You'd think their parents would stop sending a new one every time, wouldn't you?
---
The Champion arrived on his fine white steed, "Show me the bridge!" he demanded, "Then I require a goodly helping of your finest meat!"
The poor villagers, with hardly a penny to their names had none-the-less finally come up with the money to pay the knight. He was annoyed that it was a mere troll and not a fine dragon, but cash is cash.
"Who's that, um, clop-clopping over my bridge?"
"Careful dear," said his wife, "This sounds a bit big for you, and you are getting on in years."
"It is I, Sir KnIght of Errant! Show yourself you cowardly knave!"
"Cowardly! How dare you sir!" and the troll leapt out of hiding to stand defiantly in front of the beautiful charger.
"Good grief, you are ugly! Now, listen here, The good people have sent me to bargain with you because they can't stand the sight of you, but they're willing to live and let live if you'll stop demanding payment for crossing this bridge!"
"It's my bridge!"
"No, actually it isn't, they built it, way before you turned up, and they want it back. If you're willing to do a regular honest day's work for them, they'll pay you with a good tasty meal every day. What do you say?"
Big Billy-goat Gruff innocently fell to the knife that night, and the knight dined royally, and from that day the village thrived because of the work the troll agreed to do in return for lamb, beef, chicken, and even a special treat, salmon. So they all lived happily ever after...
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