|via goodloe byron|
To the troll that lives underneath a bridge near my house:
First of all, I know you're intimidating, being a hairy, other-worldly looking beast and all. Hell, I'm a big 'ol hairy lumberjack myself. I know what it's like for people to be intimidated by you. I mean, I don't even use an axe when I'm working. I bearhug the trees and pull the entire things out of the ground and then just chuck them into a pile. I'm a manly musky muscle man. But, Mr. troll, even I'm scared of you. Why do you take advantage of the good folks by charging them one gold coin to cross your bridge? Do you own the thing? No! The good citizens of Mugwumpville paid for it with their hard-earned dollas. You're forcing them to double dip. And nobody likes a double dipper.
Do you remember when I didn't have the money to pay your stupid toll? You made me wear a pretty yellow sundress and wiggle my butt in yer face. As much fun as that was, I have to ask, what kind of freak are you? You don't make any sense. I mean, sure, you have a beautiful singing voice and, in the right light, you look like an Italian William Shatner. Are you still upset that the town failed to issue you a permit for your long-dreamed about eggplant pawnshop?
Maybe. But I think it goes deeper than that. You need to be loved, Mr. troll, and I think I can help you. Though I'm a lumberjack and you're a hair troll, I think we could make this work. We should get married. I think we'd be a beautiful couple.
All the best,
Larry the lumberjack