Chapter 19. The Trolls Discover the Joys of Shopping
Obeast, who had been looking at trolls his whole life, now saw a troll he had never seen before.
He was striding along the middle of a downtown street when he saw him. He and Bilgewater and Biledumper, having found common ground in facing down the big blue bug, had formed a small knot of trolls, and headed off on their own. They came to the business section of town, which the residents referred to as “downtown,” though that term glorified the few old buildings.
What downtown Lone Tree supported was largely gone since the mall in Elmsburg had opened. Most residents, when they wanted to buy something, would take off for the big city. The two or three blocks of downtown that survived the opening of the mall closed up shop by late afternoon on Friday. There was little happening by the time the trolls came through.
Bilgewater and Biledumper, like Schmatzenbladder, had discovered alleys, and particularly the joy of dumpsters. The rank smells confounded and intrigued them, especially so when they learned that they could open the lids of the dumpsters and release the smells out into the air. The restaurant dumpsters were especially fragrant. When they discovered the dumpsters behind the Chinese restaurant, they oohed and aahed as they opened each new lid. Once the lid was open, they would take a deep breath and swoon at the heavenly odors. They wanted nothing more than to reach into the dumpster and discover whatever it was that reeked so. Wanted nothing more than that, that is, except to heed the call of the next dumpster. They were like kids in a candy store. The next smell, whatever it was, held the possibility of being even better than the one in front of them. As that next smell called to them, they would slam shut the lid of the current dumpster and run toward the next. There, they would skid to a stop in anticipation of the next grand opening.
Obeast, however, not so likely to be drawn in by cheap thrills, had wandered on, and now found himself face to face with this strange troll.
This was the weird part: the troll was inside one of the big boxy structures. There was a wall in front of Obeast, like a cave wall except that he could see through it. He could see that troll standing in front of him, except how could he see him when there was a wall between the two of them? It was as if the wall were made of a thin sheet of ice. But of course Obeast was smart enough to know that you couldn’t make walls out of thin sheets of ice. They would melt! He shook his head to clear it of the dreamlike image, but when he opened his eyes, the clear wall was still there in front of him, and yes, there was the new troll inside the structure, staring back at him.
Late on a Friday night in a dying town, no one was there to see Obeast staring at himself in the window of the darkened department store.
Obeast considered himself to be something of an aesthete among trolls; he knew what to look for in attractive troll bodies. That highly developed sense told him that this was a very ugly troll. Ugly, and no doubt dangerous. The troll did, however, have an impressive girth. It was not, Obeast could sense, be one to be trifled with.
Fear was rising within his belly. He used that fear to fuel a fierce scowl. Any of the Rabid Band would have been intimidated by Obeast’s scowl, but this one wasn’t. Immediately, it scowled back, and with as much ferocity.
Obeast wished he had a club. His hand twitched at the thought. He was ready to take a swing at something, but there were no clubs at hand. He looked around him for a good substitute. He didn’t find anything resembling a club, but just up the sidewalk from his position, there was a flower bed with a few sizeable rocks in it. He sidled that direction, keeping an eye on his new nemesis. The other troll must have seen the rocks as well, because he was heading toward them just as quickly. Then Obeast had an idea: the troll he was facing was all alone. But he, Obeast, wasn’t alone. Even this big ugly troll would be no match for him and his friends. He turned his head and called. “Bilgewater! Biledumper! I need help!”
Then he reached down a grabbed a rock.
By the time he stood and looked back at the strange troll, it had picked up a rock as well. Fortunately, Bilgewater and Biledumper were heading in his direction. “We’ve got company,” he said, as the two joined him, and nodded toward the ugly troll in the window.
Now, he noted, the new troll had called a couple of friends as well. This caused a jolt of panic to go through Obeast. Instinctively, he reared back and threw the rock directly at the head of the first beast.
In the swift moment that the rock sailed toward the window, Obeast noted that the friends of this new enemy, oddly enough, looked like Bilgewater and Biledumper. Where would an ugly troll like him get a couple of such good looking friends? And why would his friends look so much like his, Obeast’s, friends? But he didn’t have time to ponder the question before the rock hit the window and the whole world exploded.
It turned out not to be the whole world. Only the wall in front of them had exploded. But it certainly exploded with a loud, jangly crash.
Obeast was no stranger to throwing rocks. He had regularly thrown rocks at trolls. Those rocks resulted in an “Ouch!” or an “Aargh!” or an “I’ll get you, you fathead!” If he missed, the throwing of the rock resulted in the sharp crack of hitting the cave wall or the dull thud of hitting the cave floor. Never had Obeast heard a noise like the sound of the wall crashing to the sidewalk in thin, jagged sheets. He looked around him, to see who else might have heard the noise. Thankfully, no one was there.
Thankfully, too, the three trolls he had been facing disappeared. The noise must have scared them off.
The fact that the trolls had been inside this structure, though, brought home an interesting thought: were these caves? Aboveground caves? The smashed wall in front of him certainly made it look that way. Smashing the wall had opened up a huge cavern in front of him, albeit a cluttered one. It was a cavern full of shelves and racks, all covered with piles of stuff. Obviously, these trolls lacked the good taste to keep a cave clear and broad and open, with only occasional rocks for sitting and weapons racks for storage.
Obeast pondered for a moment. If these boxy structures were caves, then surely there would be a few clubs in there, stored away by its inhabitants. And food. Maybe a few mudfish! Maybe a mastodon shank or two! A voice in the back of his mind cautioned him against moving into a cave with who-knew how many inhabitants, but his hand surely itched for a club to wield, and his stomach surely growled for some decent food. He shared this thought with Bilgewater and Biledumper, then said “C’mon. Let’s check this out.” He took a few hesitant steps forward, then crawled through the broken window.
This cave, if that was what it was, wasn’t anything like a troll cave. It certainly was huge: its walls were far apart, and it had high ceilings. There wasn’t much light in this part of the cave, but small fires burned toward the back. Obeast had seen these fires about town as well: they burned brightly on top of big wooden poles. Strange, the way these new creatures were smart enough to build fires, but not smart enough to put them on the ground, where you could cook with them, or get warm sitting next to them.
Bilgewater and Biledumper, following him into the cavern, made no small amount of noise. Glass crunched underneath their feet. Biledumper said “Ouch!,” and then “Hey! Stop pushing!” Bilgewater, not to be corrected, offered an exasperated, “What? What? What did I do?” Biledumper was ready with an answer: “Whaddaya think, you stupid moron?” but he didn’t get to finish his statement before he was quieted by Obeast. The bigger troll glared at the two, then raised his finger to his lips in a “be quiet” gesture. This reconnaissance mission, Obeast sensed, would have to be undertaken with the utmost caution. It wouldn’t do to have a dozen or more trolls descend on them as they were raiding their cave. Especially that ugly fat troll Obeast had first seen. The thought of that troll staring at him from inside the cavern would give him nightmares, he was sure. Nightmares in which that ugly troll would chase him through endless dreamscapes, never to be outrun. Obeast suppressed a small shudder.
Having shushed his compatriots toward quietude, Obeast turned and took a step forward. Took a step right into a display of pots and pans. The display wasn’t as tall as Obeast, but it was pretty tall. It came to his chest, tall enough that when the pots and pans clanked into each other, then fell to the floor, the ensuing metallic crash rivaled the breaking of the window. Obeast shrank into himself. He raised his shoulders to his ears and squinched shut his eyes.
Finally, the commotion abated.
When Obeast opened his eyes, he stared into the darkness around him. His nerves twitched and jumped at every perceived motion. Whatever trolls lived in this cave, he thought, were surely now headed this way. They couldn’t ignore such a commotion. Obeast looked at the other two trolls with a disapproving stare.
“Hey, it’s not my fault,” said Biledumper. “You’re the one who’s running into stuff.”
That eased Obeast’s disapproval not at all. He glowered at Biledumper. “If you hadn’t been so noisy, I would have watched where I was going,” he whispered.
Biledumper was ready with a response, but Obeast shushed him once again. “Never mind. They already know we’re here. Let’s move. Be quick about it.” He moved off in an exaggerated tiptoe toward the sporting goods section, still scanning the room for any sign of the strange trolls. Bilgewater and Biledumper followed him noisily. He turned to them with a final warning: “But be quiet about it.”
Obeast had a moment of fright when he saw two of the wimpy, skinny land trolls on his left. They stood stock still, and looked upon the world with eyes that didn’t blink. Obeast froze, and motioned for Bilgewater and Biledumper to do the same. Had they already been seen?
Obeast’s mind was a whirl of activity. What were these land trolls doing here? Was this their cave? But if that was true, why did he see the big ugly troll—a regular troll, no small land troll—in the window? That beast, though it was plenty ugly, at least was a respectable troll. Not like these small, pale creatures.
Then the thought occurred to him that this whole town was full of these above-ground caves. Each of them, surely, was inhabited by these land trolls.
They sure were creepy looking, land trolls. Especially creepy was how still they were. Were they sleeping? With their eyes open, and standing up?
Obeast suppressed a shudder that crept up his spine. The land trolls were so small. So pale. So skinny. It wouldn’t do to let them think that he was afraid of them. But he was. His rational mind argued that such creatures surely couldn’t hurt a troll such as himself, but they still gave him the shivers.
It was preternatural, they way they stood there, not even moving. They both stood in front of him in awkward positions, staring into the distance over his shoulder. Oddly, he noted, they had a steel rod holding them up.
Obeast weighed his options. If these land trolls were asleep, perhaps they could backtrack and leave the above-ground cave without being noticed. But then, they would miss out on whatever food they might find. Instead, he opted for a tactic of surprise.
With a sudden lurch forward, he rushed at the beast on the left.
As he hit, the land troll toppled over. It crashed to the floor, Obeast on top of it. No sound escaped from its lips, but its head gave a hollow crunch as it hit. Both of its arms broke off and skittered along the floor.
Obeast, atop the pathetic creature, looked around him. The back of the land-trolls skull was crushed, but its face retained a look of calm absence. He got to his feet and shook himself involuntarily.
The land troll still didn’t move. It just lay there with its arms unattached and its legs bent upward in an awkward position.
Obeast picked up one of the creature’s arms. Though it was no longer attached to the body, it stood rigidly at attention, its fingers pointing vaguely into the reaches of the cave.
Then it hit him: this troll wasn’t real!
“Hey guys!” he said. His voice boomed with its more accustomed timber. Whispering, though clearly a good idea, was hard to remember. “Look! Fake trolls!”
The three examined the creature on the ground, and then the one standing next to it. Once they knew the truth, it was obvious: of course these trolls weren’t real. No wonder they had stood so still.
It occurred to him to wonder why these fake trolls had been created. It would be embarrassing enough, they thought, to be such a pale specimen of troll. One wouldn’t think they would make copies of themselves to stand around the above-ground cave. What was the point of that? Was this art, perhaps? Or maybe they were intended to scare away intruders? If so, they had very nearly worked. Had they been standing in the window, probably Obeast would have tried to make himself small, and passed on by. Certainly, they were scary looking creatures, real or not.
Whatever their purpose, the two fake land trolls wore tiny pieces of cloth over their chests and hips. One wore tiny pinkishpurple pieces, and one wore tiny bright green pieces. A sign underneath the still-standing one, though the trolls couldn’t read it, said, “Bikini Clearance! Half Off!” They shook their head in amazement at the little scraps of cloth encircling the beasts.
The trolls, now that they knew the creatures weren’t real, gave in to their shudders. These creatures, if they ever came upon a live one, bore watching. They had known that they were small and ugly; now they knew that they had strange customs as well.
Obeast was the first to find any truly useful treasure. At first, he thought he had come across a hoard of dinosaur eggs, and his mouth watered. As he picked one up ready to gobble it down, however, he started to wonder. Was it really an egg? He thought perhaps not. It was perfectly round, for one thing. Its shell was leathery, like a dinosaur egg, but it had no give to it. He smacked it against a metal shelf, trying to crack the shell. When it didn’t crack, he held it to his ear. He heard nothing inside it.
Bilgewater, too, found something useful. He stood in front of an entire rack full of wooden sticks that held a familiar shape. “Hey, look at these!” he said to Biledumper. “Clubs!” He picked out one of the longer ones. It was pretty short compared to his old club, and didn’t have enough heft for his personal liking, but the wood was nice and solid, and it had a good grip on it. It was closer to a club than anything he had recently held. He tried it out by taking a swing at Biledumper’s lumpy cranium. It landed with a satisfying crunch.
“Ouch!” yelled Biledumper.
Obeast looked up from his dinosaur egg and turned to the two trolls. “Be quiet, yous twos,” he hissed.
But Biledumper didn’t even hear Obeast. Scowling at Bilgewater, he grabbed his own club from the rack. It was a much shorter club than Bilgewater’s, but it was red, and made of metal. He swung it backhanded in a short arc toward Bilgewater’s head. It made a satisfying “Kong” sound as it hit his temple.
“OUCH!” yelled Bilgewater. “I’ll get you, Biledumper,”
Obeast interrupted the two with a loud belch of disapproval. Bilgewater and Biledumper could tell he meant business. Both turned to him. They could see the whites of his eyes surrounding his smoldering gray irises. “I said BE QUIET!” he yelled. “Can’t you see that there are trolls here, ready to attack us at any minute? If you keep yelling,” he said, then caught himself and finished with a whisper: “If you keep yelling, they’ll know exactly where we are.”
But Bilgewater would have none of that logic. “He just smacked me with a club!” he said indignantly.
Biledumper scowled. “You hit me first, you moron.”
Bilgewater responded with every bit of the innocence he felt. “I was just testing out these new clubs! I had to hit something!”
“Next time, hit a rock. That hurt!”
Bilgewater, still all innocence, raised his hands and pantomimed looking around him in every direction. “Are there any rocks here? Do you see any rocks? There are no rocks! I hit the closest thing to a rock I could find: your skull!”
Biledumper gritted his teeth crookedly and glared at Bilgewater. He waved his bat in the air with menace.
“That’s enough, both of you!” Obeast whispered fiercely. He shot his eyes around the room, on the lookout for that ugly troll, who surely was behind any one of these store shelves, preparing to leap out and pound them into the floor.
And, out of the corner of his eye, he did catch a glimpse of that big ugly troll, looking at him from behind another box of dinosaur eggs. The troll stared at him, first with surprise and then with fear in his eyes.
Without thinking, Obeast threw the dinosaur egg at him in a hard, overhand motion. Once again, the world exploded around them.
The astute reader knows, of course, that there was no troll at all in the building other than the three trolls exploring it. Obeast had seen his reflection again, this time in a three way mirror. The reader also knows that no department store, even a decrepit and dying one in the middle of small town America, carries anything like dinosaur eggs. Obeast had discovered not dinosaur eggs but softballs. And, of course, the world still wasn’t exploding, though to the trolls the sound of breaking glass was so striking and foreign that they could be excused for thinking so.
The middle mirror, which had once held an image of Obeast himself, was now in pieces on the floor, shattered into variously sized polygons of sharp glass. When the troll in question went over to examine it, he saw many small images of himself within the pieces of glass on the floor. This was odd, but he didn’t have any time to consider the whys of that before he looked up and saw two more of the ugly trolls right in front of him. One stood to his left, and another to his right. Again with the energy of unconsidered panic, he clenched his fist and attempted to deck the troll to his right. As his arm thrust forward, the world, as it seemed to be doing with some regularity, exploded around him.
It took a while to discern the principle of mirror images, but eventually the three trolls figured it out. Obeast was finally able to put together that the two friends of his nemesis looked like Bilgewater and Biledumper because they were Bilgewater and Biledumper. And, the ugly troll was ugly simply because it looked like him. Once he had that figured out, the world became a more comfortable place. There weren’t trolls surrounding them in every direction.
Obeast, though mirrors were still new and remained a little spooky, nevertheless enjoyed posing in front of the one remaining glass in the three way mirror. He crossed his arms, admiring his big belly (though it wasn’t nearly as big as it would be once he started eating regularly again). He raised and turned his head, admiring his strong jaw and double chin. He smiled gaudily, admiring his strong yellow teeth.
It wasn’t long, however, before Biledumper pushed him from in front of the mirror. He had been standing behind Obeast, trying to catch a glimpse of himself. What fun! He had seen Obeast since he was just a small troll, and of course he had grown up looking at Bilgewater, his best friend. But he had never seen himself. He had never seen how big and greenish and ugly he looked. How the mold in his armpits and on the underside of his belly gave him such a distinguished air. How masculine he looked. He stood up straight and puffed out his chest.
But then Obeast pushed back. He wasn’t done evaluating his own sturdy form. The two wrestled for position in front of the mirror.
Bilgewater, seeing the two posing to admire themselves, had an idea. He retrieved the bikini top from the one mannequin still standing, then crowded the two trolls out of the way so he could have his own look in the mirror. Once there, he stretched the colorful fuchsia string from the mannequin across his front. It made a line from one side of his chest to the other, the two tiny cups not reaching far enough to cover anything like what they were intended to.
When he got a good look at himself in the mirror, Bilgewater blushed a deep crimson. His cheeks grew to be a color not unlike the color of the swimsuit. He lowered the bikini top immediately, then tossed it aside. He made a small whistling sound and wandered off, hoping that the two trolls would be enraptured enough by their own forms in the mirror that they hadn’t noticed his. But his hopes were in vain, if the deep smirks that the two shared were any indication.
He tried to distract them before they had a chance to say anything. “Uh…I think we oughta go.”
When the two trolls showed little indication of moving, he reached back into his mind for a good reason to leave the store, and couldn’t come up with one. But his stomach growled right then, adding its two cents. Bilgewater, grateful for his stomach’s interruption, said, “I’m hungry. I don’ think there’s any food here.”
“Okay,” said Obeast. The thought of food gave him the impetus to move forward as well. “I’m gonna grab one of those clubs, though.”
As he walked to the rack, however, his mind returned to the dinosaur eggs. He veered toward them, and picked up another one. Again, he hit it against the metal shelf, where it thudded dully. He showed it to Biledumper.
“What do you think this is?” he asked.
“It made a pretty good hole in that picture-shower over there,” said Biledumper. Maybe it’s a fake rock.”
Fake rocks! Whatever the limitations of these land trolls, they were awfully clever beasts, thought Obeast. The Rabid Band had thrown rocks for generations, but hadn’t once thought of trying to make artificial ones.
He looked at the dozens of fake round rocks before him. They fit the hand nicely, he thought.
“You two grab some clubs if you want. I’m gonna take some of these.” He picked up as many of the smooth rocks as he could carry. Pretty soon, his face was nearly hidden behind a pyramid of softballs balanced against his chest and left arm.
Bilgewater and Biledumper retrieved the clubs they had chosen.
“You’d better get a longer club than that,” Bilgewater said as he saw Biledumper pick up his short metal club.
“I like this one,” Biledumper said, a little defensively. Then he added, with a little bit of a grin, “I like the sound it makes against someone’s head.” He imitated the sound: “Kong!” Bilgewater scowled at him, and faked a lunge toward him, but then he smiled too. “It did make a pretty cool sound, didn’t it? Kong! Made my head sound as hollow as a gourd.”
The trolls shared a comfortable chuckle, then moved on.
But the trolls weren’t done in the store quite yet. On their way out, they hit the menswear department. There, they found some more of the fake wimpy trolls. One of these had on a nice oxford shirt, and a bright red tie. The trolls didn’t much care for the shirt, but Bilgewater was struck by the tie. He thought it gave even the wimpy troll a look of suavity and distinguishment. Certainly, it looked more masculine than the purple string he had stretched across his chest. He examined the tie a bit, then loosed its knot. He yanked it over the head of the mannequin, then stretched it to fit over his own head.
Now, a troll’s neck is quite a bit larger than the average human’s, but it wasn’t so large that the tie didn’t fit, even if it was quite a bit shorter than GQ would likely recommend. It hung crookedly down his chest. Bilgewater was faintly embarrassed as he looked down at himself, but before he ripped off the tie he found another three way mirror to check himself out.
These mirrors, he thought, were pretty cool. Perhaps later they could retrieve one for use in their cave. That would have to wait, however. For now, it was enough to look at versions of himself standing in every direction around him, and admire his new tie. He fussed with the knot a little to straighten it. It wasn’t as clean and tight as it had been on the fake troll, but still, its suavity and distinguishment were intact. He nodded to himself in approval. He’d just wear this tie, he decided. It would make him stand apart from the average troll.
Then the three trolls were on their way. They stepped out of the broken window, Obeast losing only two or three of his fake rocks from the pile precariously balanced against his chest. Once again, they headed down the street.