Little Red and
the TROLL in the Wood

Written By: George L. Avery

t other evenin
i was traipsin down
this deserted lane
wit me club restin
on me shoulder
searching fer a campsite
away from civilized folks
for to cook my vittles
and to map out the stars
before i hunkered down to sleep
when a ittle lassie
came skipping up
the cobblestone path
from behind
and takened me by the finger
she waren t more than a mouthful
and was dressed in a little pink hood
wit matching boots and stockinged legs
and she carried a little twig
of a branch in her free han
like a riders crop
and a wicker baskinet was
swinging from her elbo
this ittle lassie
she jest kept on keepin stride
skipping along beside o me
whil st clinging to my fingerbone
and all the while
she never giv me a sideways glance
an nonstop
she yammered on
like a yackitty jaybird
what is shaking pinecones
down outen the tree
onto my head
when i d overslept
in springtime
her trusting innocence
disarmed me an
i forgot about the hunger
that had been gnawing
at my innards moments before
and the muscles at each end of my lips
began to tighten till my mouth
drawed up at the corners
into a smile

we hadn t traveled fer
along our mutual path
into the wood
when we overtook this
badly nourished feller
a wolfish gent
dressed all in black sequined leather
who was a leanin
wit his shoulderblades supported
gainst the intimacy of a tree s
shadow
chewin on a fat alfalfa stem
wit flashy gold capped teeth
his alligator boots
crossed at the ankles
and fedora pulled down
to shade the mal intent in his eyes
narrowed eyes that followed
every step of the chile
what skipped at my knee
and a cold shiv ring wind
crept thru the trees
and it whispered

[what a tender young creature]
[what a nice plump mouthful]
[at any cost i must have her]

as if she d heard
the ittle lassie
turned her head his way
and stuck out her tongue
and laughed and laughed
such a clever young thing
she was not at all afraid of him
but he was right to be wary of me for
i am i for all to see
and i am TROLL
he ducked off into the trees
and i knowed she d
not seen the last of him
for he was a tenacious one
and crafty like the wolf
that he was

the ittle tyke held onto my han
as we followed that windin lane
thru the wood
until we d reached a cottage
what stood wit its door ajar
whereat she let go her hold
and skipped thru the doorway
an me
i stepped over near the window
and lissened a spell from the outside
and it be a good thing
that i did what i done

[oh grandmother she said what big ears you have]
[the better to hear you with my child was the reply]
[but grandmother what big eyes you have she said]
[the better to see you with my dear]
[but grandmother what large hands you have]
[the better to hug you with]
[oh but grandmother what a terrible big mouth you have]
[the better to eat you with]

And scarcely had the wolfish gent
who was posing as her ailin granmuther said this
than with one bound he was out of bed and ....

thats when my big arm flashed thru the open window

i grabbed him up by his sarcoptic
nape wit me big calloused hand
relishing in the feel
of fragmentatin vertebrae
within my tight grasp
and the little chile
lookin on
wit them big scairt eyes
could hardly unnerstand
why i was a chokin
her granmuther
who s hairy feet thrashed
the empty air
two skips offen the floor
but i am TROLL
and i ain t one fer explainin
nor seekin approval fer
the things i do so
i fetched the unresponsive brute
thru the window
and shook him inside out
like a pair of ole trousers
an after
i hanged him up by his heels
from a tree

i entered thru the door an
that ittle rose hooded lassie
was still standin there
frozen like
wit a big tear buildin
at the bottom of her eyen
so i fetched a bundle
from the closet
what turned out to be
her granmuther
bound and gagged
and near to death
and my heart shore beat easier
cause that ittle lassie forgiv me
fer my brutish methods
she wiped that big ole tear
away onto her sleeve an
she even giv me a hug
an me a TROLL
even
granmuther
was a tough ol gal
and once she d got a piece of cake
and a bottle of wine inside o her
what her ittle granchile had brung
along in the baskinett
she went outside
an took a broom to that wolf in the tree
till she was wore plum out
then we put her to bed an
i seen the chile safe back home

the night waned on an
the ittle lassie was comfy
and snug in her own bed
and me
i was sleepin on the ground
wit grimy lips and a full belly
beside a dwindlin campfire where
come daylight
a score of camp crows
was a fightin over meat scraps
clinging to the ample bones
scattered about the base of a cauldron
what had stewed me latest supper
fer i am TROLL
an i hadn't et me supper yit
when i d got back to camp
but i knowed the way back to granmuthers house
thet anorexic gent in the tree
he wasn t much
but once i d added a plump granmuther to the pot
along wit a dab o salt and the sweet taters
i d plundered from her pantry
my supper was complete

i been countin on me fingers
an me toes
and in seven more nights
it ll be halloween
that s when me an the ittle un
is goin trick er treatin [tergither]
she knows the way to every house
in the neighboring wood
an after
once i see her safely home
i m goin back fer seconts
an i m totin a bigger sack

fer
i am TROLL †

Do Be Safe
ON ALL HALLOWS EVE

THE END

10/24/04



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