Redux on Classic Service

“Whoa…” Devin’s voice was breathy and trailed away to nothing through his gaping mouth. Arnie just kept blinking and fiddling with the zipper on his hoodie, a nervous habit. The eight foot tall fellow with blue skin and horrendously crooked teeth set in a massive head just stood smiling in the doorway.

“You lads seem like such reasonable examples of your race.” The towering figure swayed with hesitation, then offered, “Perhaps you’d like something to drink, something stiff to loosen up your brains, help them slip around your first time meeting a Niihau Troll.” He toddled off leaving the young men in the living room of the large stone house.

Arnie stood, pacing and tentatively exploring the kitsch and bobbles.

Devin flopped back into the enormous couch, “Oh man, this totally rocks! A real, live troll, in its kitchen, getting us drinks. Dude, best vacation ever!”

Arnie didn’t answer, standing over a large tome on the desk.

“Dude, best vacation ever, right? Right? Dude?”

“Um, we are so screwed.”

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