This Is Your Problem, Right Here

"This is your problem, right here." The deep plumber's voice could be heard under a repair hatch next to a large Cascade Reef waterpark. "You only have one troll left. To get such a large pool, you need a minimum of fifty, seventy-five if you want everything to go smoothly."

"Excuse me?" shouted Anita Westergard, owner. "I have only one left?"

A facilitator appeared under him. His arms were covered with elbows of bluestone. "Trolls. See?" He held up one sore hand next to her holding a small skull. It was almost human in shape, with two sharp teeth and a curved ram's horn. "Poor things should be hungry to turn around like that."

"Trolls?" Said Anita. "Like animals that live under bridges eating goats?"

The producer threw the skull on the side of the concrete where it landed and screamed. "You will have trouble finding new trolls as it happened. If the Troll Council finds out that you were talking about racism, you will not have the opportunity at all. You will have to close this place."

"I did nothing wrong!"

"You left them all winter without eating anything after closing last year? I thought so. Trolls are heavy but that's more than that. You're lucky even one survivor. How long have you been the owner of the place."

"Less than a year. I bought it last July."

"And the previous owner didn't tell you anything about this?"

Anita sighed several times before speaking softly. "I'm not stupid, sir ..."

"Wilson, but you can call me Reggie."

"I'm not stupid, Mr. Wilson." Point to the skull. "You can take your sponsorship and your tools and find someone else who will draw your business. I have a few other contractors coming today."

"All right," he said. "Let me get you out of that last troll." He disappeared into the darkness before answering, and after a while, he lifted a small picture and placed it near the space.

He looked like a young man, physically fit without teeth and horns, and with strong green skin. Anita jumped when a small object shook her weak arm. "Oh," said Anita without saying a word. He felt sad between hating a bad little creature and sympathizing with its thin, distant feelings, as if scared. "Is this really a troll?"

"Yes, a troll." The carpenter pulled out a nail clipper from his pocket and cut a small, black slime icon. "You really didn't know about trolls?"

He shook his head painfully.

The plumber opened the mouth of the small troll with one hand and fell into the trunk. "If he keeps that down, make sure you get more food. Too much."

The troll climbed up unsteadily to the seating area. "Am I all right?" it asks in a rebellious voice, surprisingly deep in its magnitude.

"She will be fine," said the coordinator. "I'm sorry about your family."

"Don't be. It's just sad that they taste as bad as they do."

"If there is anything you do not need me for," said the coordinator, "I will be heading back to my next time. It is not my job to clean up the dead trolls.

He nodded, and the producer packed his things and left.

"So," said the chariot, looking him up and down. "Do you have food for me? I'm really hungry."

"What do you like to eat?"

"Water for bathing or shaving nails, shaving skin or hair."

He lost his temper and shivered. "You actually eat those things?"

The troll shook its head. "How we have fallen in just a few hundred years. I once had a chariot bridge over a big river. Delicious meat whenever I want, and a gift."

"You want meat? I could bring you some meat. What do you like? Hamburger? Chicken?"

The troll makes the retracting sounds deep in its throat. "Sewage! The meat I crave is not beef or bird. Such things are poison to me." She looked at him with wide eyes. "Do you want to fix it?"

"Yes, I do."

"Give me a finger."

"No!"

"Toe? The little ones don't help you at all."

"No!"

Take a deep breath. "We will not be able to break the Convention anywhere. I should never have raised that."

"What agreement?"

"The Trolls ruled the world once, and the people were like cattle to us. We protected you very well and your people outnumbered ours, so here are the hunters. The Troll Council spoke to the human rulers of the day and made a treaty. . "

"So what are you doing here?"

"I was hired as a pool filter. People dived into the water and made a weak soup of skin and sweat. This is enough to support me without breaking the Agreement, and I return the clean water to the dam."

"So what do I do? Is there a way you can put me right with the Troll Council?"

"Hire fertile heifers, and I'll start my own kids. Buy a Wiccan Soup Troll. This will help me attract spouses. Serve only fatty foods in your contract area. The oil comes out of the sweat, making everything taste better. Can you do that?"

"I'm afraid the fryers aren't working yet but I have another contractor to look after that. Thank you for your hard work. Oh, talk devil."

A man appeared at the door. She was thin and young, with green closets. "Anita Westegard?" he asks.

He nodded.

"Am I here to help you with your broken seedlings? First, a simple question. I know you are dumb, but I have to ask everyone. You let your phoenix free in winter so it can migrate, right?"