1eUGeNe, The seNsiTiVe TrollTrolls. When you think of Trolls, what comes to mind? Ugly? Smelly? Living

under bridges? Yes, all these things. And while many monsters are ugly and

smelly, only Trolls live under bridges. Why? Because they turn to stone if ex-

posed to daylight. Thats why all Trolls work as Bridge Traffic Supervisorsa

job where they are always shaded by the bridge above. Now, being a Bridge

Traffic Supervisor is an unusual job in that it is not a salaried position, nor

is it paid by the hour; no, it pays only in tips. This may sound hard, but

people tip generously because Trolls eat cheap people.

Once upon a time there were many bridges and few Trolls, so Trolls

could pick the bridge that suited them best. A laid-back Troll could work a

small wooden bridge in the country, whereas a more ambitious Troll would

work a steel bridge near the city. But as the population grew, bridges became

scarce and Trolls had to take any bridge they could find. Then one day they

ran out of bridges altogether, leaving many young Trolls unemployed and

depressed, for work was the only measure of a Troll; they had no hobbies or

interestsnot even glee clubs.

Eugene was one such bridgeless Troll. Even his father, Gunter the

Troll King, could not find him a job. But Eugene didnt mind. he didnt

want to be a Bridge Traffic Supervisor anyway. No, Eugene wanted to dance.

By Trevor StrongWith illustrations by Len Peralta

2There is not a long history of dance in Troll society. Actually, there

is no history at all. Just how Eugene got it into his head in the first place

is a mystery. he was graceful, for a Trollalthough thats akin to being a

good-looking wart hog or a speedy slothand glad to be unemployed, for

it gave him time to work on his routine. But, on his seventeenth birthday, it

all came to an end.

I have a present for you! said Gunter.

I hope it is not another human head, replied Eugene, who had

received many, none in his colour.

No, even better, I got you your own bridge!

Thank you, Father, replied Eugene. his heart sank.

Eugene hated being a Bridge Traffic Supervisor. he hated standing

in the muck. he hated asking for money. And he hated being mean. he was

not good at being mean. he let all but a few people cross his bridge com-

pletely unchallenged. The few times he did try to threaten someone, he lost

his nerve and ended up talking about the weather. News of his behaviour

spread and soon everyone in town was using his bridge, much to the detri-

ment of the other Trolls, whose bridges now lay empty.

The complaints soon reached Gunter, who summoned Eugene

before him.

Why do you do this to me? said Gunter. Our friends grow

hungry because of you! I did not work hard all my life to raise a lazy, self-

centred son who cares about no one but himself! You have yet to rob a single

person. You havent even eaten anybody!

Im a vegetarian, Dad.

Oohhh! You leave me no choice. Tonight you must kill the first

person who crosses your bridge.

But, Dad!

No buts. You must make people fear your bridge, said Gunter.

And if you do not do as I say, you will be banished forever! Do you under-

3stand?

Eugene understood. he understood that he would never be able to

express himself freely in Troll society. But he had no choice. So that night he

went to his bridge fully intent on killing the first person who crossed it. It

was not long before he heard footsteps above.

Grrrrrr! screamed Eugene, jumping atop the bridge.

Kill me! Kill me! said a small man.

Grrrrrr! repeated Eugene.

Kill me! said the man.

Grrrr!

Kill me!

Are you saying, Kill me? said Eugene. Youre supposed to say,

Dont kill me.

No, I want to die. Kill me! Thats what you Trolls do, isnt it?

Now, thats a bit of a generalization.

Are you going to kill me or not?

I was going to before started Eugene.

Before what? said the man.

Before you told me to kill you.

You Trolls are even crueller than I thought. Please kill me.

Why?

Because I deserve to die. I cheated on my wife, I lost my children,

and I gambled away all my money. I have nothing to live for and

The man continued talking, but Eugene was not listeninghe was

thinking of his own problems. At least youre not a Troll, Eugene blurted

out. At least youre not a Troll who wants to dance! he collapsed in a heap

of tears.

Im sorry, said the man. I was only thinking about myself.

All my life Ive wanted to be a dancer. But look at me! Im nothing

but a Bridge Traffic Supervisor, and a lousy one at that, Eugene blubbered.

4

5Could I see you dance? asked the man.

Well, umm, I dont know Im really not that good.

I bet youre a fine dancer. Dance for me.

Eugene had waited his whole life for such an invitation.

Okay.

he gathered his thoughts, centered his spirit, and threw his ample

girth into a series of improbable movements. Like the bumblebee too igno-

rant to know it cant fly, Eugene danced. The bridge shook with every step,

rocked with every twirl, groaned beneath the weight of his landings. It was

as if a hypnotist had mesmerized an elephant and told it it was a gazelle. It

was an act awkward in execution but beautiful in defiance.

The man watched spellbound. Eugene danced elatedfinally an

audience! Finally his secret shared! he geared up for the big finish. he

closed his eyes, planted his feet, and sprung upward. he spun and twirled in

the air, crashing down on the bridge with a deafening thump! But there was

more than just a thump! There was also a splat!

Eugene had landed on the man.

The show was over.

Eugene never told the other Trolls what happened that night. he

let them think he had killed the man to fulfill his promise to Gunter. But

the death haunted Eugene. he wanted to tell the truth but knew he could

not. Not because he was afraid of how other Trolls would treat himno, he

could handle that. It was just that they could not possibly understand his

pain. After all, they were mere Bridge Traffic Supervisors.

And Eugene was an Artist.

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