Scylla and Charybdis are no match for my puppy powers. I slay thee with my sweet smile and bright eyes.
Trolls, on the other hand, are no laughing matter. One time, Daddy, Mama and I were walking along the trails. It is literally called “The Trails.” An evening walk. Perhaps that was our mistake.
It was warm that evening so Daddy took off his sweater and wrapped it around his waist. As we walked, we chatted about worldly things – if a golden gets a skin graft from a Dalmatian, would he get spots or would it turn golden? Is the euro debt crisis over or is this just the beginning? Should the Rule against perpetuities be abolished?
Halfway through our walk, Daddy got a little chilly. To his surprise, Daddy noticed that the sweater around his waist was gone. Ah… Diabolical … A quick look to the right and a lingering look to the left — yet there was no sign of Daddy’s sweater. Instead, there was only a bridge; an innocent looking bridge that we walked by many times without giving it a second glance.
Daddy didn’t notice the bridge. Instead, we turned around to see if we could find the sweater. Mama suspected that it must have fell and it was now lying on the floor. Although we searched diligently, we saw nothing except a lady with a baby stroller.
I couldn’t look into the stroller basket because I was too short.
Did she take Daddy’s sweater? But why? It was not a name brand sweater. Worth $20 at most. Would she bring a baby stroller just on the off chance that Daddy would drop his sweater? Highly unlikely.
No. It must be something else. More sinister. More conniving. “We must search the bridge,” I told Daddy and Mama. But all they heard was, “hhhrm hhrrm hrrm hrrm.”
Sometimes I wish they taught me sign language.