But I digress....

People may have thought I died or lied about dying (which I did)
The truth is stranger than fiction. My writer decided that writing poetry was more important than continuing this story for a farking month!
But I digress (glares up at the writer) {yes, I am glaring at you, deal with it}
Now I am a frog....
Hang on. (you think this is funny?)
Now I am on a frog...
sighs (really mature)
The problem with a fairy tale is there is this unseen narrator who tells my story. He has his own life and troubles and occasionally remembers mine. He tells me he's lonely and I tell him that he has me.
He tells me sometimes it's not enough.
I cry (Hey!)
I feel bad (better) for him and we agree that we will do better in the future
Then a week goes by and I figure out that my magic book has not recorded a single thing.
(narrators!)

I am not dead, nor am I a frog or on a frog or a cat.
I am not a cat
I am (stop it, okay that was a little funny)
I am walking down the road with Ismie and she is giving me this weird look.
"How long have we been walking down this road?" she asks.
"I think we've been walking for at least a month."
"Oh."
"It's the narrator, he got distracted."
Ismie gives me a long look. Stops then looks around, we are maybe ten paces from the Parasite Inn and about 200 paces from the jailhouse.
"Well tell him to get on with it. I have my own fairytale to get back to."
"He can hear you."
"Right. He is kind of cute. I like his tee shirt." Ismie pushes a toe into the dirt and blinks up at the sky bashfully.
She's adorable. I wonder if that would work for me.
"No, not really," Ismie says then takes my arm.
"Can you see the narrator?"
"You can't?"
"Uh-" I look around. "Nope."
"But you just glared up at him a second or two ago."
"Well, I just assume he's up there somewhere mocking me like an angry god."
"This is why bad things happen to you." Ismie gives me a hug. "Besides, he's over there."
"Over where?"
"Oh, right. Not there," Ismie points at an empty field. "He's over there just beyond the fourth wall."
"Oh, Now I totally don't see that at all," I reply staring harder at the empty field.
"I guess you have to be a witch," Ismie says then looks thoughtful.
"I guess."
The two very beautiful women walk on down the road towards the jailhouse.
"See?" Ismie says "he susceptible to the charms of a witch."
"Right."
Sometimes I wonder if I am in the right Fairytale.

The other version of the story was better

The Parasite Inn Barkeep appears at our table.
"I know you."
Ismie looks up in surprise, then she shrugs.
"Of course you know me," Ismie replies.
"No, I know you!" and then he points at me.
"I was in here a couple of nights ago," I said. I give him my best smile.
"You're trouble." He says.
I shuffle nervously. I glance at Ismie.
"It wasn't my fault, I tried to warn them, but the dwarf, the ogre, the prince, the-the ogre's wife she-"
"Nah, I like the other version better," the barkeep announces and cracks a big toothy smile.
I gawk?
Gape?
"I like the other version better as well," Ismie says.
I glance at her and try to discreetly shake my head.
"What other version?" The reassembled gnome Sprogsgutt asks.
Dammit.
"Where's the harm in that?" Ismie says and pokes me in the ribs.
So I jumped.
Ismie laughs.
The Barkeep laughs.
I find myself standing with a lute in my hands on a stage I didn't realize was even there. A spotlight falls on me.
Before I can form a coherent thought to protest, I strum the lute, then sing.
"Well, I'll tell ya!"
No, no, no, no, no, no!
"I love this bar."
Tobias Keith hates me.
I mean if I knew who Tobias Keith was, he'd hate me.
"No!" The Barkeep yells. "The other song!"
Nuts.
"I'm not as good as I once was?"
"That's the one!" The Barkeep yells.
Nuts.
Then Anne the waitress pops up at my side.

Me: "She said-"

Anne: "I've seen you in here before."

Me:"I've been in here a time or three!"

Anne:"Hello my name is Princess Trinity.
meet my sisters Joela and Bethany.
We're all feeling kind of bored tonight
and you're the only knight in this place
if you're up for a rescue, then we can put a big
fairy tale reward on your face!"

Me: "This in not going to end well."

Anne: "That's not the song."

There's a growl from the bar.

Me: "Lady! I might be wrong!
but I am not as good as I once was
I am going to need some more beer now
not long ago I was having a good time
I am not committing another crime!"

Anne stops looks at the barkeep, gives a shrug before slipping off the stage.
I take a deep sigh of relief, I can now escape.
The Ismie sweeps me off my feet and sings.

Ismie: "I could put my enemies down low
I could say them words real slow
I can probably love you all tonight
I might be brave enough
I am not as good as I once was
but I am evil when the going gets tough."

I am caught somewhere between blushing and screaming in abject betrayal.

There is applause.
Ismie, not you too.

Me: "I still hang out at this bar with my pal Ismie.
I've known her since we turned me into a from last summer.
Little did I know that it would be such a bummer."

Ismie: "Last night we had a few drinks,
got into a fight based on matrimonial demands!

Me:"Then things just got way out of hand!

Ismie: "I just had a great idea!"

Me: "Is this part of the song?"

Ismie: "I'm not as good as I once was,
but I can still spin a spell or two,
I'm sorry about the whole frog thing,
besides, that wasn't me, it was Witch Matilda Bleu!"

Me: "I'm listening, tell me true!"

Ismie: "Do you trust me, Charlie?"
Me: "Are we still singing?"
Ismie: "We can if you still want to."
Me: "The Crowd is getting ugly."
Ismie: "Hang on, I've got it all well in hand."
Me: "Could we just leave it to the backup band?"

Ismie: "Well, I am not as evil as I once was,
I could have toasted this place,
I would have roasted that guy's face!
My how the years have flown
done it all in a silken ballroom gown,
I could really hold my own!
But if they really want a song tonight
they aren't getting it without a barroom
fight.
Now quick as a cat let's get out of sight!"

and then we turned invisible.
All hell broke loose, chairs are flying, table smashing. At one point Anne, the cute waitress comes by wailing away at Sproggsgutt with a frying pan. shards of ceramic gnome are flying in all directions. There are elves fighting orcs, there are dwarves fighting elves, there are orcs fighting each other.
Ismie is sitting in her chair next to me laughing into her hands trying and succeeding at not making a noise. I am ducking around next to her as the chaos continues.
"When did all these people show up?"
Ismie considers for a long moment.
"I think it was in the middle of the second verse.

Then Duke Ivan's men charge in and arrest everyone in sight.
We remain invisible.

After they all are gone, we reappear.
"Well, that went well, don't you think?"
"I dunno...."
Ismie pats me on the arm.
"Let's go turn ourselves into the Duke Ivan the Horrendous."
"Horrible."
"I know it's horrible, I was just being facetious," Ismie says.
"I know, I just think that's a horrible idea."
"You worry too much."
"It's because I am not a witch, I guess."
"True but we can fix that."
Ismie smiles at me so sweetly that I get chills.


"I like the other version better," the barkeep says as we walk out into the night.

"What version is tha-" Sprogsgutt asks as the door swings shut.
"You know it's good to be a witch," Ismie says taking my arm.
I am afraid to ask.
"You shouldn't be afraid, my lovey."
Well, I am.
"I am going to take such good care of you."
Help!
Ismie laughs as we walk into the moonrise.

"Charlie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Roll Curtain.




"We are just going to the jailhouse, right?"
"Oh, we will get there eventually.

The Trouble with Witches

We look for a nice table in the Parasite Inn.
Rather, the patrons spot Ismie (I mean she does stand out) and scatter in a semi-fluid not really constrained manner abandoning most of the tables in the room, just in case, she chooses the one where they were sitting. Ismie watches this with some amusement.
"Is this normal?" I ask.
"Yup," Ismie says. "Ever since I first said I was a witch, most everyone who has heard it scatters as if I am a loose wand shooting spells all willy nilly."
"Ah."
Ismie walks through the abandoned tables, ignoring them until she reaches an empty corner.  We pause in the alcove.
Ismie whips out her wand.
The room goes into panic mode as the patrons flee in all directions, out windows, under tables, over the bar, up the stairs, into the ladies room.
"Dinerosa," Ismie whispers and with a pop a nice table and two chairs appears in the alcove. The table has a tablecloth with blue stars on a black backdrop, white china and slim wine glasses, utensils made of white pearl and pepper and salt shakers made to look like gnomes.
"Have a seat," Ismie says as she slides into the other one, she snaps her fingers in the air.
I sit down opposite her, my back to the wall, she is against the other wall and the Inn is to my left. I am struck again by her beauty.
"Thanks, that's really nice of you to keep saying that," Ismie says.
I blush and feel my heart do tiny flip flops.
"It happens. I like being with you too, I mean you are a sweet kid, a lot like your dad....I mean-" Ismie says, looks guiltily at her hands before whispering "whoops."
I gawk at her caught between fear, surprise and a certain dread that I know what she just really said.
"Any chance we could just forget I said that?" She ventures.
"You hate my father," I say, but I already know something is wrong with the statement.
"I don't hate Devin. He's an idiot, for sure, I might dislike him for the way he goes on with your mother, Saran," Ismie takes a deep breath, snaps her fingers again, looks across the bar, wave her wand. The wine arrives in 2 counts and is poured and the waitress disappears as fast as she appeared.
"Devin, I mean dad, is not my real father....the gnome Sprogsgu- was telling the truth," I say slowly.
Ismie gulps down the wine makes a face, taps the glass with her wand twice before tossing back the whole glass. She looks a bit sick and embarrassed.
"I'm sorry Charlie. I guess I may be as bad as Sprogsgutton when it comes to confidences."
"Wait that Gnome's name is Sprogsgutton?"
"Finally!" The gnome practically screams it from under the table.
We both look under the table to find Sprogsgutton there with both hands clamped over his mouth.
Sprogsgutton nods, still holding his hands over his mouth and scampers for the door, his new weasel tail swishing behind him.
I feel sick. I take a sip of the wine.
Ismie puts her hand on mine. It is oddly comforting. I should be angry.
"It's good that you aren't," Ismie says. "I mean you probably would have figured it out eventually."
"Is Queen Sam-" I choke on a sudden rush of fear.
"She is," Ismie says squeezing my hand, I feel better.
"Then..... Devin isn't- I mean that means Ralph is my-"
"Well, not exactly," Ismie says. She drinks more wine. "Sheesh, this is harder than it looks."
"So, Ralph isn't my father then who is?" I say, but I know that Ralph is.
"Ralph is technically your dad," Ismie starts then stops then laughs. "This is the trouble with witches."
"Ralph's a wizard.... isn't he?"
Ismie stops, opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it again.
"It's complicated by magic and science." She finally says.
"What?"
Ismie looks over at the rest of the bar, everyone is studiously not listening to every word we have said.
"Stupify!" Ismie yells and the entire inn flees out the windows and doors.
"Did you just cast a spell?" I ask watching the rapid retreat.
"Did it look like a spell?" Ismie says pocketing her wand.
"Nope," Prince Charlie, magical expert.
"Well, they thought it was a spell," Ismie says.

A pregnant silence follows.

"Hmph, that's a word Ralph would use," Ismie says. "Look, Charlie, it's like this. Your dad, Devin was shooting blanks and Saran asked Ralph for help and he asked me since Wizards are bad with babies."
"Shooting blanks....?" I struggle to imagine Devin shooting anything.
Ismie stops, opens her mouth then closes it.
"Oh," I say. "The Birds and the Rabbits speech." I slap my forehead. I got that speech about 5 times from 4 different people at 5 different times.... none of which made sense. I later went to Ralph who gave me a book that made even less sense. In the end, Queen Sam explained it to me.
"Dad's is infertile?" I ask.
"He was, at the time," Ismie said. "No one knew it. I found out after an old Hag by the name of Malificnessa let it slip one night after a few drinks that Devin's Dad Kevin had insulted her Mother Magnifica and that Mag had curse Devin's family line with impotence for the insult. Malificnessa then said that her mom wasn't the best at curses and screwed up the curse but the end result was still sterility, so no one fixed it."
"I have a Grandfather?"
"Technically he's not your grandfather," Ismie says. "Technically he's an Oak Tree in the courtyard."
"Oh," I say, "You mean the one with the swing."
"That would be the one," Ismie says.
That's the trouble with witches, they seldom really forgive anyone.
"We do forgive but it does help if there is an apology."

"Anyway, I told Ralph who told your Mom and we came up with a plan to give King Devin a child."
So I am a child of Magic.
"Well, artificial insemination," Ismie adds.
"Artificial insemi- what?"
"Magic," Ismie says. "I had no other idea what it was before I cast it either, only Ralph does.
"And my brother?"
"Well, he is really Devin's child," Ismie says. "Those curses traded at your twelfth birthday had side effects."
"Oh," Because this somehow makes sense.
"I'm assuming that-" Ismie says. "I wasn't there, but given the accuracy of spell casting anything is suspect."
"So I am Ralph's Brat Kid after all."

"Told you so."
I punch Sprogsgutton in the nose without even looking at him.
"I'm sorry!" he screams as he flies across the room.
Ismie watches him go.
"I hate Gnomes."
"That makes two of us," Ismie says.

"Uh, a couple of things, Charlie?" Ismie says after Sprogsgutton hits the wall and shatters into several hundred ceramic pieces.
"Yeah?' I say, not surprised that Ismie would recurse the gnome at this point.
"Devin doesn't know." Ismie sighs. "So, if you corner Ralph over this, it would be nice not to do it in earshot."
"I wasn't going to tell my father anything."
We watch the Garden Gnome put himself back together.
"Ralph on the other hand-"
"I have a thing for Ralph if you haven't noticed," Ismie says, "So please don't be too hard on him."
"I am not going to kill him," I say, "He is my father, technically speaking."
"You did punch King Dev in the gut," Ismie says.
"So, I could punch Ralph in the gut. That would be allowed?"
"I would advise against it. You don't want trouble with Wizards, even the ones who are your father."
"Good point."

Mimosas and the talk of Witches.

Following the Pancakes, we sit back with our a pair of Mimosas, a drink of crush Oranges mixed with the elixir of trampled spirits. I have to say that while troll cuisine involves painful references, it tastes great. We both watch the flight of the gnome from Spot, Larry's dog.
The gnome is quite agile.
Spot, is, well, dogged in his pursuit of pancake goodness.
"I hate you!" the gnome screams each time he runs past the patio. There is less pancake and syrup on him each time.
"You know, you should talk to Ismie," Larry says after a while.
"You mean the witch who has a habit of turning hapless idiots into various inconvenient forms?"
I say, thinking Larry must be joking. "Witches turn Prince's into frogs."
"Only if they deserve it," Larry remarks as Srogsgu- races by for the fifth time.
"It's not Sprogsgu-!" the gnome screams at me, he suddenly stops, points a stubby finger at me. "My name is is really Sprogsgu-" as the dog chomps down on his head and carries him off for a good licking (as it turns out).
"I didn't deserve to get turned into a frog," I remark.
"That's couldn't have been Ismie," Larry says as the slurping commences from the bushes. "It's not her style."
I shrug, the memories of being a frog are still fresh and uncomfortable.
"It does sound like Callendra though," Larry says. "That old hag has no sense of humor."
For some reason, I feel better.
I nod.
"Sounds like her." Larry muses. "You must be the unfortunate son of King Devon, then?"
I must look shocked.
Larry laughs.
I look confused.
"Trolls work for Witches from time to time. It's how I met Ismie, actually- during that whole Wizard War debacle. I was out dodging wizard spells and ended up having tea with her while hiding in a trench. She told me about your dad and Ralph the semi-stupendous and how you are a  girl but your dad wanted a son and all that."
Wow.
"Also Ismie has a thing for Ralph- even though, at the time he was trying to kill her."
Double wow.
"Magic-users are that way about love, they tell me," Larry says and gets us another Mimosa.
"Anyway, I suspect that Ismie would like you," Larry continues, "I doubt she will turn you into anything."
Very reassuring.
"It's what I do," Larry says.

So there you have it.
An hour later, I find myself standing back in front of the Parasite Inn.

"You could cut your losses and take me back to Stonehaven with you, instead."
I look down.
There is a much cleaner gnome looking up at me.
Sprogsgu- smiles up at me.
I reconsider my choices.
"Actually my name isn't Sprogsgu-. It's Sprogsgu-!"
I didn't kick him. I swear.
"Oh look it's the Garden Gnome."
Ismie looks down at the petrified Gnome.
"Have you learned your lesson?" She asks so sweetly you can hear Sprogsgu-'s teeth chattering in terror.
I look at Ismie who just suddenly popped out of thin air.
"Close your mouth dear, " Ismie smiles, she is so beautiful with her perfect green hair, green eyes, green skin, perfect figure and purple hat and dress I want to cry or giggle or both.
"What a nice thing to say about me," Ismie says. "Shall we go in for a bite?'
We leave the petrified Gnome on the stoop. I glance back at him as we go in.
"Oh, he'll thaw out in a day or two," Ismie says as she takes me by the arm.
She smells great, like soap and fresh sugar cookies.

The Secret Art of Pancakes.

So the secret art of Pancakes is to use crushed flour from a beaten wheat.
I have to say I was disappointed until I asked what a beaten wheat was.
Who knew Wheat was that vile and fleet of foot, here I just thought it was grass- lots, and lots of grass.
Larry serves a stack of them for me, complete with fresh butter from a terrified cow, topped with sweet maple syrup from a strangled tree. Trolls just have a way with food preparation that humans have completely missed.
We eat, the gnome slips back onto the porch to beg for table scraps.
"Please don't kick me anymore."
I ignore him.
"Don't look at me," Larry says around a mouthful the offers me some freshly trampled Orange Juice.
"Thanks."
The gnome reaches for a plate. Larry growls. the gnome snatches his hand away.
"My name is Sprogsgu-"
Larry drops a pancake on his head.
"Thanks," the gnome Sprogsu- says. My name is actually Sprogsgu-"
Larry drops a large pat of butter on him.
"Drammist!" Sprogsgu- sighs, my names is Sprogsgu-"
Larry pours the syrup all over Sprogsgu-.
"Are you happy now?" Sprogsgu- asks.
"Almost," Larry says and whistles.
"Trolls." Sprogsgu- says "This is not funny!" the gnome attempts to wipe some of the syrup off his face. He stops to eat it, then pauses. "Why did you whistle?"
The answer comes in the form of a woof.
"Woof!"
"I think we got that part." The gnome glares at me, then over at the horse sized dog that gallops around the corner.
"I really hate you too." He says before running off with the pancake.

Drinks at dusk, Long Island Tea on the patio.

Well, at least today wasn't a complete loss.

"So there's no treasure?" I say and take a sip of the Long Island Tea. I haven't ever had tea that made me want to sigh, giggle and burp at the same time. It's good. I might get drunk.

"Nope." The troll says, his name is Larry. He's kind of nice once you get off his grass.
"I spent the whole thing on this house, the lawn and that garden gnome and his friends."

I pick up the Garden Gnome's head. I consider it.
"He has friends?"

"Yeah, they conned me into buying them, said it would be good for the lawn and the house, give it a civilized look," Larry says then takes a long draw on his tea. "Instead, as soon as I paid them, they skipped town right after paralyzing this twit on my lawn."

We're sitting on the patio at the back of the house/cottage. There's even more lawn back here. I can make out a cave . I point at it.

"Yeah, the family hole. very cramped and uncomfortable, wife would have none of it. so I cashed in the family loot after a pesky prince tried to take it and got the house and lawn from this traveling witch name Ismie- she was nice, but I wish she had warned me about the gnomes. " Larry glares at the Garden Gnome head in my hand.

Ismie....could this be Ralph's love interest?

"Uh." Me, I am the queen of glib speech.

"Yeah?" Larry says.

"Your wife is in the Duke's jail- along with that pesky prince and my friends."

"Figures." Larry replies then drains his glass. looks at my half drunk one, shrugs his massive shoulders and grabs the Tea Pitcher- which is larger than my whole body. He refills his glass, takes a sip, leans back in his patio chair- something he calls an Ironback Lounger. It's a massive wooden contraption that is half chair, half bed. He looks wistfully out at the cave fo a time.

"Did she ask about me?" There's a pain in that voice.

I consider lying.

"Heck no, she thinks you are a boring pile of Troll Poooooooooooooo-" The gnome head yells in my hand right up to the point I throw it over the lawn into the woods. "Fuck yoooouuu." The Garden Gnome head hits a trunk and shatters into many pieces.

"Thanks," Larry says.

"No problem," I reply, then take a deep breath, release it and drink deeply. The tea goes straight to my head. "No she didn't - but she- dammit, I didn't know she was a she since I am so woefully ignorant of what trolls look like-" I try to make my mouth shut. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, don't sweat it," Larry says smiling. "Karen looks like a man troll because she told Ismie to go to hell when she learned all that I had spent all the money on the house and lawn- apparently, Karen thought that Ismie's price was too high. Karen called her a hag."

I laugh at this because I have seen Ismie and a had she is definitely not a hag.

"Well, Ismie turned Karen into a man troll for that....I feel kind of bad since I hadn't told Karen about the Garden Gnome thing," Larry shrugs. "Ismie told me the man curse would wear off eventually."

"Ouch," I say then take a long drink remembering how long I had been a frog not too long ago. I wonder if that had been Ismie's doing but then I remember that witch had been a hag.... her name was Callendra or something.

"Anywho," Larry says leaning back. "Karen took to going to the Parasite Inn after that. I think she was planning to get revenge since Ismie drinks there from time to time."

We watch the seagulls flying in the evening sky. We drink more Long Island Tea. The sun sets.

I wake up in the chair with a blanket draped over me.
The Garden Gnome, completely intact is sitting on my knee doing his nails.

I almost scream.

"Wait!" the Garden Gnome screams.

I grab him, readying to throw him back into the woods.

"Wait!" the Garden Gnome screams.

I freeze in place. the Garden Gnome feel soft and cottony definitely not porcelain.

"Wait!" the Garden Gnome screams.

I put him down and look at him closely.

He looks at me indignantly, straightens his coat and sits back down on the chair.

"You're different," I say.

"Well, aren't you the sharpest stick in the bushel," he snips out.

I grab him by the throat and get ready to hurl him.

"Wait!" the Garden Gnome screams.

I wait.

"I'm sorry," the Garden Gnome says, he is a lot less aerodynamic now. "Old habits are hard to break."

I put him down.

"I was going to thank you for breaking the curse place on my by that bastard Robert the semi stupendous."

"You mean Ralph." I say.

"Of course, Ralph," The Garden Gnome says. "What did I say?"

"Robert."

"Ah," he says. "Look- it doesn't matter- I might have deserved it. I am a gnome anyway."

"You're a Garden Gnome."

"Not anymore." he says, he stops and starts laughing.

I crack my knuckles, he stops, looks at me nervously.

"You thought Garden Gnomes were a race of gnomes?"

I nod.

"Nah, it's a curse that magic users place on regular Gnomes." That would explain why I instantly hated him.

"What did you do to get cursed anyway?" I ask.

"I called his girlfriend a cow." the gnome says. "I might have also called his kid a filthy rat."

His kid? Ralph has kids. This just keeps getting better...is Ismie the mother?

"His kid?" I say, my mind racing.

"Yeah, there was this brat always hanging around asking pesky questions, apparently Ralph called her after a boy, what a yutz! Anyway, I am grateful to you for breaking the curse, my name is Sprogsgu- ack." He says the ack as I have grabbed him by the throat. Sprogsgu- looks at me wide eyed.

"I am that kid." I snarl before pitching him up in the air and then drop kicking him into the woods.

"I'm sorrrrrrryyyyyyy." Sprogsgu yells as he sails across the lawn. There's a satisfying thud and a crash.

"Gnome Punting," Larry says from the back door. "It's a sport in Stone Haven, they tell me."

I look over at Larry the troll. I smile, he smiles.

"Pancakes?"

Once upon a time...who am I kidding?

My life is not like a fairy tale. It is a fairy tale.
Now I have to go trick a troll out of his money, in order to bail out all of my friends and compatriots and Prince Slime-ball.
On the upside, My diary tells me we are getting an upgrade. Not sure what that means, but it's got to be good.
The troll's cave turns out to be a nice looking cottage nestled by the sea.
"That's not a troll cave."
"I didn't ask you."
"Fine, just ignore me."
"You're a garden gnome."
"Excuse me I am a  Garden Gnome!" The idiot in the little red cap says, indignantly. "It all caps you Gopher loving pothole!"
I look down where he is stands, holding out a sign that says "Troll Cave."
He looks at the sign and shrugs.
"It's still not a troll cave." he says and sticks out his tongue at me.
I grab his tongue and pull him up to eye level.
"Gack Gweek Gnock Ack!" the Garden Gnome screams.
"Let me explain how I feel about Gnomes." I then snap my hand like a whip and watch with much satisfaction as the little idiot jerks around in the air. I let go and he sails he over heels over the garden hedge, all tongue and spittle and sign.
"RaCwist Pwig!" He screams before there is a crash.

"What the Heck is going on here!" A very large ugly man emerges from the cottage's front door. He stands about 18 hands tall, is apparently wearing what Ralph calls a "house coat" - floral pattern and all- also, something Ralph calls "Flip Flops" but I call silly looking sandals. a dirty white shirt, a pair of short pantaloons that Ralph calls "Bermudas." He's unshaven and Fuke, it's the troll.
He looks at me, I look at him. The Garden Gnome runs out with the sign with a small cudgel. I step forward and say
"Your wife is in Jail."
The Garden Gnome shrieks in terror and runs in the opposite direction.
I freeze in place and the Troll starts screaming.
"GET OFF MY LAWN!"

I step back.
He immediately calms down.
Trolls are whack.
"Hey, if you knew how long it takes to have a well-manicured lawn." The troll says. "Then you'd yell too."
You might be wondering how he knows what I am narrating.
You might be like, How do all my foes know what I write in my magic diary.
Well, I will tell you.
It's-
"because we are usually having it read to us afterwards." The troll says. "I mean, other than being degrading, I am somewhat impressed that you care to try to get it correct."

Confused?
It happens. I kind of skipped ahead of myself.
I step back, the troll calms down. I scream "Bloody Murder." Draw my sword and charge onto the lawn at full sprint making sure to dig my heels in order to tear hunks of turf up in my wake. The troll bellows "Damned Humans!" Grabs his hedge trimmers and charges. I cut his hedge in half. Also, chop off the Garden Gnome's head since he was hiding in the hedge. The troll lunges forward to pick up the remains of his hedge and the torn up turf. The Troll begins to weep.
I get ready to behead him.
He looks at me, a big bit of snot hanging from his nose.
"How can you be so inhumane?"
"Dammit."
"What?"
"I thought we were supposed to be mortal enemies."
"Oh."
"I thought you were going to say something like I'm gonna grind up your bones for suet."
"That's not how you make suet." the beheaded Garden Gnome says.
I sit down on the troll's stoop.
"Would it help if I said I am sorry?"
"It might."
"Okay, I am sorry."
"I forgive you." the beheaded Garden Gnome says.
"I hate gnomes," I reply as I get up and kick the Garden Gnomes head like a ball.
"Fuck You!" The head screams as it rolls away across the lawn.
"What did that mean?" I say.
"What?" The troll says as he crawls around pushing the torn turf back down into his lawn.
"Fuck?"
"Now sure, maybe it has something to do with gardening," the troll says as he continues.
"Oh." Note to self: Corner Ralph and make him talk.
"Who's Ralph?" The troll asks.

This is why nothing ever goes as planned.
"That was a plan?" The beheaded Garden Gnome says.

Arrgh!