We see a tableau, a picture of life. There he sits, frozen in time. One gnarly leg outstretched the other pulled next to his body being held by his clasped, weathered hands. His old ogre head resting on his knee, blankly staring down at the ground. Come on let's enter his mind and see what the old Bridge Troll is thinking.

Why doesn't he get on the rock in the shade? Flies. Flies, he ponders. Always busy crawling around rubbing their front legs together and scratching their head. I wonder if sometimes they're not just confused and lonely like bridge trolls get sometime.

Sometimes when ogeretla doesn't know what to do next he jumps up and down under his bridge then jumps in the stream then runs up the slope to the dusty road and jumps up and down waving his hands high in the air yelling Hi! Practising Greeting the kids and weary travelers that occasionally come walking by.

If I had a way of telling people what a bridge troll is, there would be a lot of things I would tell them. The fist thing I would tell them is not all bridge trolls are bad. Bridge trolls get a bum rap from the mainstream society. Oh, it's uderstandable, people should be concerned about people that live under bridges but not all of them are bad and dangerous.

Some people that live under bridges are mentally ill and don't have the coping skills to get along in main stream society. Some live there due to what drugs and alcohol and tragic times have done to their life. Then again some live there because they have said everything they need to say and done everything they felt they needed to do in the world of tall buildings, televisions and loud noisy cars. Now the later is the Real Bridge Troll.

Throughout the centuries as long as man has been building bridges there have been bridge trolls. People named us ogres and trolls. Well hey, everybody has to be something. Oh look, there he goes again scratching his head, poor confused fly.

It seems to me the rock in the shade would be the best place to crawl around, but then what do I know I'm not a fly. He keeps trying to get on it. He flies over to it once in a while but then quickly goes back to the one in the sun.

Transitions, that's what our lives are and I guess they're all different. What bothers me doesn't seem to bother the fly at all. He's too busy being a fly. I guess we just all need to be tolerant of everythings differences. Oh well. AHHHH.

Oh well, if I lay back in the warmth of the sun I can just wonder if the fly isn't on the rock, with the good spot to enjoy life. And the old troll's mind slowly wanders off to a happy place as he floats higher and higher into a peaceful sleep.

Oh yeah, feeling good just seems to make you feel better. The Bridge Troll is enjoying playing on the net with his webbie pals. Oh, don't be absurb. Sure bridge trolls play on the net. This evening I'm posting in a couple of newsgroups with some of my net buds.

It's really amazing a bridge troll can sit under a bridge and get to know and have fun with people all over the kingdom. Why, I've made some friends we've visited in person with and will be friends for life. He leans back against the back wall of his hooch as his mind goes deeper into peaceful thought. Well, I reckon, having friends to share your life with and think about when you're not together is probably the most peaceful feeling I get in life.
Oh don't think for a moment bridge trolls don't have feelings, they do. Most people are afraid of us because we have long hair and beards and talk gruff. Those that don't have long hair and beards usually wear a goofy looking stocking cap that hangs to one side of their head. I'm not one to go for the hat look myself and the hat won't keep your face and head warm when it's cold.

Ah yes, a warm head and visiting with friends all over the country sure is a good feeling. There's Big King Leo that lives on a beautiful ranch. He knows all the old time country singers and musicians. He and the Bridge Troll can speak Lefty Frizzle and Jimmie The Kid, we're both tri lingual.

Then there's Hobo. Now bridge trolls and hoboes just naturally get along, it's expected. The Troll is going to have to journey a long way, but he will, to visit the Hobo one of these days. They can have fun sitting the jungle drinking bad coffee and seeing which one can spin the longest yarn and have the other one wear it.

Laney1 enjoys playing games with the family over the holidays. She says they never give her any real competition. Wouldn't it be nice if the Troll could teach her how to play Scrabble then let her see if she could compete? Ah, yes it would be a pleasure to just hang out and have a few laughs with friends over the Holidays.

And Blondie scares the Troll. She has a psychotic mouse that I fear she'll turn lose on me one of these days. The Troll is glad his bridge is a long way from the beautiful forests where Blondie lives. But if he were ever in The Enchanted Forest where she lives I'm sure he'd stop by and hug her dirty little neck. Providing she's keep er psychotic mouse in it's cage.

Now his weight gets a little heavier against the wall. His bearded head slides ever so slowly down to his shoulder and a subtle grin comes across the old trolls face.

Disclaimer: Only the names have been changed to protect the victums.

There you go boys and girls, the short story in the continuing saga of The Bridge Troll's collection of short stories. Laugh if you feel you must, after all there is an intention of sprinkling a little humor in it. If I get enough positive coment from this and people are enjoying it I'll write more. Oh well, what else could you have been doing with your time while you read this.:)

Any comments, critiqué, critisizm for feedback of any kind is welcomed. Grammer corrections too (but they will probably be ignored)! Have a great day! ogie :-)

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