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Nonsense stories from a mother and young daughter: Troll and Bird
Nonsense Stories: Troll and Bird
My 8 year-old daughter and I play a game where we take turns telling each other stories. I might say, "Tell me a story about a Ninja and a Cactus." So she will. She'll choose some items and I will tell her a story. It's great fun for us, and anyone else who has the supreme joy of listening. She and I are going to post some of these in a blog. Maybe you can share them with your children, or make up a few yourself. Today we will do the Troll and the Bird. Next week, Ninja and Cactus.
Troll and Bird
Once upon a time (as these things often go, just once, no more), there was a troll named Buzby. He didn't live under a bridge or anything. In fact, it's none of your business where he lived, since it has nothing to do with the story. Did I mention Buzby was a bit grumpy? He wasn't grumpy on account of the troll thing. He was grumpy because he was a diabetic, and couldn't eat his favorite sweeties as much as he liked. Trolls do enjoy the sweeties.
Anyway, Buzby had a very unusual hobby. He enjoyed collecting the feathers of exotic birds. He had multi-colored peacock feathers, tiny little hummingbird feathers, and even Kiwi feathers. There was one feather that he yearned for above all others, the feather of the rare and very exotic, Koo-Koo-Cachoo bird. The Koo-Koo-Cachoo bird, which unfortunately, has no shorter nick-name, had extremely odd feathers. To most, the bird was believed to be invisible, or really just a fairy tale. Actually, the bird had such excellent camouflaging, that you could only see it out of the corner of the eye, and wiggling your head quickly, so as to observe its edges. The edges sort of shimmer, like when the road is very hot and seems to be dissolving into the air. This phenomena caused many to believe that the Koo-Koo-Cachoo bird, like the wiggly road, was merely illusion; a trick of the eye. Buzby, however, knew better.
Buzby prepared for his trip as all trolls do these days. He put on a hat. It was a green fedora to be exact, with a very debonair feather in the brim. Buzby loved feathers as we have already established. Following the careful perching of the snazzy cap, our dear friend Buzby ventured to Antarctica, the home of the elusive Koo-Koo-Cachoo bird. He went by boat until the boat got stuck, then walked along the ice. It was literally a hop, skip, and a jump at that point. He thoroughly enjoyed the trip, as trolls are very hairy, and that can make one feel quite warm. He could feel the icy air in his lungs and the little frozen drops on his arm hair. They were so nice. He got some very odd looks from the penguins, and a couple of very large walruses flopped toward him with hungry looks in their eyes. Buzby used his most odorific troll abilities to let the critters know that he wouldn't be very tasty prey. He never imagined they could wobble away so fast with just those teeny front flippers and those big floppy bodies.
When Buzby found a good spot to look for the Koo-Koo-Cachoo bird, he hunkered down into a bit of a squat, and started wiggling his head back and forth quickly, and turning his head suddenly. He did all of this while peeking in the most accidental way possible out of the corner of his eye. Was that penguin laughing at him? Buzby focused again on the Koo-Koo-Cachoo bird, and the precious feather. Wiggle wiggle turn, wiggle wiggle turn. He went on and on for hours. Finally, he spotted it, a soft shimmer on some rocks, and then it was gone. He had stopped to see it and lost it. Still, he knew it was near.
Buzby pulled out his long beard (which he conveniently always kept braided into a rope) and made a loop at the end. He held it ready. Wiggle wiggle turn, wiggle wiggle turn. There! He threw his beard and pulled hard. "BAM! BAM BAM BAM!" Now at this point, you might be horrified to think of Buzby, the hairy troll, slamming the Koo-Koo-Cachoo bird repeatedly into the ground. However, you would be quite mistaken. The "BAM" sound is actually the call of the bird. That is what the rare and exotic Koo-Koo-Cachoo bird sounds like, and it was very frightened by the sudden bristly rope around its middle. Buzby, quickly but gently, pulled down what seemed like nothing at all, and removed a feather from the birds tail section. "BAM!" He then released his beard, and saw nothing but a shimmer as it flew off, squawking one last agitated "BAM" as it went.
Gleefully, as a hairy diabetic troll might be on such an occasion, he placed the feather in his coat pocket, and strolled about, enjoying the cool air. He felt quite proud of himself. His life dream was now accomplished. Rather abruptly, Buzby realized he had no more goals in life. What does a troll do when they have done all they wished? He could see for the first time ever how his great aunts and uncles had come to living under bridges, pursuing goats and children. It's idleness that leads to madness. Buzby began to feel itchy in the head just thinking about having nothing to look forward to. Besides, he was certain that kids of any sort were not good for his blood sugar. After a short bit, he decided he must venture home, and perhaps research to see if there was any bird he had missed. Perhaps he would look for a phoenix feather, although he hardly believed in such make-believe creatures.
Pondering his remaining meaning in life, and the reality of things, Buzby tossed his beard lasso at a cloud, and began swinging home. Cloud to cloud all the way.
When he got home (again, terribly unimportant location, absolutely irrelevant to the story), he found he could not see his feather to add it to his collection. He wiggled all over the house, turning and peeking, but to no avail. He checked his pockets, his hat, the in between places of his beard, and even behind his ears, where he once found a piece of toffee he had been missing for several months. It was useless. Nothing shimmered for him.
That's right, nothing shimmered for him, and that was perfect, because now everything shimmered for him again. Once more Buzby, the troll who lived in where the bells ever, had a goal, a purpose, a need, and he was ready to go. The old grump threw on his fedora, and strode out the door singing, "I am the Walrus, Koo-Koo-Cachoo…" (Of course he did, we knew it was coming all along. It's a Koo-Koo-Cachoo bird for Goodness sake.)