“Ah, cyclists, my favourite,” said mister troll, seeing one pedalling towards the bridge. He let the cyclist get to the middle of the bridge, and then, as it started rolling downhill, mister troll pointed at the cyclist and bent his index finger.

The bicycle’s front brakes clammed up and the cyclist flew over the handlebars, letting out a surprised cry as she flew, with the bike following right after and landing on top of her. “Works every time.”

Snirf, nodded enthusiastically and scribbled another note in his tiny pad in an illegible writing. He had chosen the troll for the shadow day and it had turned out to be as exciting as he had hoped. They had been tripping people up, calling them names, making sarcastic remarks about the weather, getting car horns toot to the embarrassment of the drivers inside, mess with bird brains so they would fly in figure eight, shape clouds in rude shapes, and write expletives in water. Snirf had gotten a severe case of giggles when mister troll had allowed him etch “fudge” in the river stream.

“Sir troll, do you think I would make a good troll like you?” he asked, hopeful, blinking his larger than teacups eyes.

“It is most certainly possible,” mister troll replied nodding. “But note that it’s not all fun and games. The hours are long, there is the monthly prank quota to be filled, you don’t get to choose which bridge you are posted under, and sometimes people throw rocks at you.”

“They wouldn’t,” Snirf exclaimed. Why would anyone throw rocks at trolls.

“Sadly, they would,” mister troll replied, his head drooping a little as he remembered the uncountable times that had happened. “Why don’t we step into my office for a second.” Snirf squeaked out of excitement.

Mister troll and Snirf went under the bridge and then mister troll mumbled something under his nose and made a motion at the wall. A door appeared that Mister troll opened and beckoned Snirf inside. Snirf hopped in gleefully, his eyes as two bath sponges sucking in every detail. A beautiful persian rug covered the well sized room’s floor, the bookshelves running along the walls were packed with books big and small, and at the furthest wall stood an antique desk, with a decorated display planted on top of it.

“Sit down,” mister troll said, pointing to the chair behind the desk. Snirf oohed and quickly ran to the chair, pulling himself up to climb into it. Sitting in the chair, his eyes were level with the desk. Mister troll hummed and then told him to climb down again. He then picked a few well-sized books that he put on the chair, and lifted Snirf to sit on top of the stack. This was much better. “Now, let’s open up youtube,” said mister troll to himself and clicked open a window with a video.

“See these?” he asked pointing to the words under the video. “These are comments.” Snirf nodded and scribbled down “video comments” in his tiny notepad. He was sure the notes will make more sense when he gets home.

“Now, type in ‘farts’ and click on ‘Send’,” said mister troll. Snirf followed the instructions, slowly finding the right buttons to press, and then, with both hands, dragged the mouse onto the Send button. He tittered as he clicked on the button – he had never typed such words into the computer.

“Click Next,” mister troll instructed. “Do you know any other good words?”

“Butts?” Snirf offered.

“Type that in,” mister troll said, approvingly. “Now click ‘Send’… Excellent.”

Snirf’s face went redder than a summer tomato. This truly was the best day of his life.