another modern-type faerie tale.

Once, long ago, in the Duchy of Fromage, there lived a happy blue cow named Bessie. Bessie spent her days eating grass, giving milk to the nice Farmer Brad when he brought her into the barn every morning, and playing with the numerous children who lived on the farm. She loved everyone, and would gladly play and frolic with all who wanted, with one exception; Bessie hated trolls.

Across the brook that led from Farmer Brad's to the deep, dark forest of Mayfair, there was a ramshackled old bridge. Under this bridge lived a grumpy old troll named Shannon. Shannon the troll spent his time enviously watching the children riding around on Bessie's back, because he knew he could never participate. So, he would pick the lint from between his fuzzy toes and growl a lot, which would frighten the young children and make them run off. This angered Bessie, and she would moo in frustration, which made the old troll guffaw.

So, one day Bessie got tired of the troll scaring the innocent children, and she mosied over to the bridge and mooed until Shannon stuck his head out and growled at her.

"What the hell do you want?" the troll grumbled at the cow, in a highly annoyed manner.

Bessie snorted and swished her tail back and forth. "Why do you insist on scaring the farmer's children everyday?" she asked politely, watching the troll cautiously.

"Why the hell do you think?" Shannon growled, scratching his hairy knee. "I'm fucking bored."

Bessie's brow furrowed as she momentarily pondered this, then she summarily replied, "Then why don't you come out and play with us, you big oaf?" And she smiled.

The trolled sputtered at this, and burst out, "You dumb cow! Trolls don't frolic and play in meadows!"

Bessie frowned. "Why the hell not?" she asked, and began to graze.

"Urm, uh, well... I don't know." muttered Shannon as he eyed Bessie suspiciously.

"Well, that is _just_ stupid," Bessie commented around a mouthful of grass.

Since Shannon never was able to come up with a reason why trolls didn't frolic and play in meadows, he was forced to concede and join in with the daily revelries. So, Bessie, the troll and the children would play in the meadows all day long, pausing only for lunch, where Bessie grazed, and Shannon ate velveeta and drank substandard wine, while ogling Farmer Brad's prepubescent daughters thoughtfully. And they all managed to live happily ever after. So...

Smile.

Laugh.

Drink substandard wine.

But never grumble about not being able to do stuff when there is no reason for it.

colour commentary.

I wrote this story a few years ago, after a series of more serious works. I suppose I intended it to lighten up my mood, and you know what? It worked. I hope it worked for you.

This story is copyrighted by me, 1993.