For Rowdy Christians Everywhere Page 20

Chapter 18: The Troll Handled His Sledgehammer Masterfully

  “There were giants in the earth in those days...” Genesis 6:4

  In the long-lasting evening, after a long walk, Bert and Luke saw a city up ahead in the distance. “Behold,” Bert said knowingly. “You were sore at me for dragging you out of that Christian commune, so I’m making it up to you! That there is New Owen Sound, where the Pope lives. If you wanta get saved, give your life to God, and what-not, he’ll be the guy to talk to.”

  Luke felt like his friends back at the Garden had been good for him too, but he appreciated Bert’s gesture all the same. Meanwhile, he was wonderin’, “Gosh, Bert, how d’you know so much about this territory? Ya always seem to know right where we’re goin’.”

  “I drew the maps for this region,” Bert replied casually. “Well, for the whole world, actually.”

  Luke was surprised and intrigued. “Really? You seem pretty young; wouldn’t all that mapping take a lot of time, a lot of years?”

  Bert grinned, shrugged, and winked. “Depends on the quality of the maps.”

  “But the whole world? Can I assume you’ve traveled all around the world then?”

  “I’ve been here and there,” Bert answered vaguely. “Seen parts of it anyway.”

  “Um, don’t you actually need to see it all before you can draw the map for it?” Luke probed suspiciously.

  This time Bert laughed, as he repeated his answer with hands raised, “Depends on the quality of the maps!”

  Luke shook his head, then laughed too at his too-strange friend. Then he gave Bert a nudge and a “Come on,” and they picked up their pace to a quick walk, and then a jog, and then to an open run, as Luke hurried to see what was in store for them in New Owen Sound.

  As they reached the walled city, Bert’s hand on his shoulder slowed Luke down, as Bert reminded him, “Business hours are over, we’ll prob’ly have to wait for morning to meet the Pope anyway.” That made Luke a little sad. They circled the city slowly, catching their breath.

  Eventually, they came to a place where the wall was marked by a Bronze Brick at the bottom (the builders had considered gold or silver, but they didn’t want anybody takin’ it), and a plaque with this inscription:

  “At this place, on the 13th day of the 4th month, in the 2000th year of our Lord , we began to rebuild the wall, having already rebuilt the city by God’s grace. With Him, our ruins are made ramparts. By Him, our tatters are made towers. Through Him, our wastelands are made walls. In Him, our dust is made dreams. This day we trade grief for glory, misery for meekness, horror for healing, pity for praise, as we commit our city and our souls to the Lord God of Heaven, and humbly implore His blessings and protection thereupon.”

  Luke was so-so-pleased by this discovery! He remembered being saddened by the ending of the Illustrated History of Owen Sound, back in the library in Chicago. He hadn’t been sure if the city had met a bleak end, or if the last confusion had merely been from the intoxication of the author. Now he knew. At some point, the fair city of Owen Sound had indeed fallen. Possibly their drunkenness and debauchery had helped to undermine them? While the actual cause of their downfall remained obscure, the NewOwensoundlanders had made sure to leave to doubt as to the Cause of their building-up! Luke was overjoyed to find that they had made this a Christian city, and he couldn’t wait to get inside and find signs and miracles, blessings and lessons, and all kinds of other good things. “Even if I have to sleep on the Pope-step and wait for him,” Luke resolved, “I’m going in there tonight!” He ran around the wall again, looking for the gate.

  But his spirits fell when he discovered that the gate was locked and the path was blocked. As they hurried up to the city gates, they found their entrance impeded by the gatekeeper, a formidable troll named Kevin, who was seated at a desk, with a steel sledgehammer by his side. Beside the gate was his little hut, and his (comparatively) lovely troll wife Karla, who was tending their vegetable garden and singing spirituals.

  Kevin the Troll put on his sunglasses, and leisurely placed a cigarette in his mouth, but didn’t light it. He just liked making himself look that much tougher. ‘Overkill’ was his favorite word, especially the third syllable. He mean-mugged ’em for a minute, then at last commanded gruffly, “Line up.” There was an X on the dirt in front of his desk, where the line was supposed to start. After scanning quickly to reassure himself there were no traps, no pianos about to fall from the sky on that spot, Luke shrugged and stood on the X. Bert, less respectful of “authority”, took up a position close enough to Luke to make it look like he was lining up, but stayed a step behind him and a step to his left, so that, technically, in no sense would they actually form a line. (Unless it was a diagonal line.) The Troll looked at their line a little suspiciously, but didn’t challenge them on it yet, asking instead, “So whaddaya want.”

  Luke pointed at the city. “You see that there city? I was fixin’ to go in there, if I might.” Luke pointed at the heavy stone city gates. “And I was wonderin’ if y’all would be so kind as to open up that there gate for me, so’s I can get in.”

  Kevin the Troll picked up a pair of dice that lay on his desk, blew on them for good luck, and rolled them. Then he frowned, shrugged his shoulders, and took off the sunglasses to better give Luke and Bert a sympathetic look, as he informed them, “I am sorry, my friends. I rolled a thirteen, and it would be bad luck for all of us if I let you in. The die has been cast, and the verdict is given: You may not pass.”

  Luke, who was still working his way back from an acute case of the blues, suffered a sudden relapse. He took on a pained expression, and he looked around helplessly for help. “Gosh darn it, for real?. You mean just because the dice came up a certain way, I can’t come in? I don’t get a personal interview? Or an appeal to a higher court? Or a re-roll?”

  Kevin hung his head. Then looked up, brightening, as he remembered the one way that people could win an exemption from the rules. Trial by Ordeal. “Would you like to fight?” he asked eagerly, reaching for his massive sledgehammer.

  Luke sighed. Bert grinned and nodded Soitenly!

  “Would you prefer kick-boxing, hockey-style, or Viking warfare?” the Troll politely offered them their choice.

  Bert unstrapped his pewter warclub from his backpack, turned sideways for defense, and answered predictably from his profilious position: “Free-style!” So the skirmish commenced, using elements of all three major fighting disciplines. Luke felt bad for drawing his blade, but he wasn’t about to be the only one unarmed in this struggle, especially after a swift sledgehammer swing nearly smashed in his ribs. It proved moot however, as the small knife could barely scratch the hard hide of the eight-foot-tall monster. Neither Luke nor Bert held their weapons for long anyway, for the troll handled his sledgehammer masterfully, and deftly disarmed them early in the rumble. After that they fought cautiously, staying out of his range as much as possible, and relying on foot-sweeps, eye-gouges, shoulder-blocks and butt-kicks to counterattack.

  After an hour of well-fought warfare, their appetites were itchin’. So they all got up, shook hands, shook off their wounds, and went to the kitchen.

 

  “How about a mug of iced tea and a bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats?” Karla suggested. She had stopped gardening in the dusk, and was now puttering about in the kitchen. “Have a seat, boys,” she insisted. “Everyone can use a bowl of Mini-wheats now and then, when things get stressful.68 The sugary frosting makes you feel like a kid again.”

  It did exactly that, and Luke and Bert and Karla and Kevin started getting quite silly as they ate their cereal, amusing themselves by telling Knock-Knock jokes. “Luke who?” “Luke through the window and see, why dontcha.”; “Bert who?” “Bert-er let me in quick, I gotta pee.”; “Karla, Darren and Donna who?” (The proud mama lovingly worked in the name of their sleeping twins.) “Karla police, Darren accident Donna street!”; “Kevin who?” “Kevin the Troll, open up or I’ll rip the door off its hinges!
” The others paused, not sure whether Kevin understood the formula, but Kevin himself Laughed and Laughed like it was the funniest thing in the whole world, so finally the others cracked a smile; and then they played euchre once they realized they had four people for once!

  Kevin poured himself another bowl of Mini-wheats, as he waxed philosophical: “Life is like a bowl of Mini-wheats. The sweet side is more enjoyable, but the not-so-sweet side is better for you. It helps you grow.”

  “K,” Luke agreed, “But I thought meeting the Pope might help me grow. So how is your not-so-sweet act of turning me away from the city going to end up being better for me?”

  “Oh, say, little buddy, if it’s the Pope you’re looking for, I’ve got good news,” Kevin told him. “He sold the big, fancy downtown Pope Building to the city as an art museum, and gave the proceeds to the poor. They relocated to a small office in a little church south of town. It’s just a few minutes away, but you’d be surprised how many parishioners didn’t follow them when they moved. Keeps out the part-timers I guess. Those who forget the injunction that ‘if someone compels thee to walk a mile with him, go with him twain.’ Or maybe some of them miss the fancy digs? But as the Pope said in one of his sermons, ‘Are you here to look at stained glass, or are you here to keep your eyes on God?’ .”

  “South of town? So I don’t need to get into the city to go see him?” Luke interrupted, hardly believing his good fortune.

  “God directs our steps,” Karla the Troll pointed out: “Sometimes you don’t get what you think you want, but pay attention--you might find that you are getting something better!”

  To confirm his wife’s point, Kevin added on a personal note, “First time I ever had Mini-Wheats, was after I sent her to the store for cornflakes!”

  Luke searched to see how this particular insight might apply to his case, and came up doubting their theory: “But I started this journey looking for God? What’s better than God?”

  “Nothing. But did you really?” Karla asked knowingly.

  Luke remembered and admitted. “No. I guess the frog-doctor and the man of God put me on that trail. What I really started looking for was...some kind of peace. Peace of mind maybe? So will I find something better than that?”

  “Much better!” Karla proclaimed excitedly.

  “Better than peace?” Luke was still skeptical.

  “Better than the peace you were looking for,” she clarified. Then she explained how peace of spirit was better than peace of mind, and the peace of God was better than worldly peace. Any day!

  Luke reflected, and added, “Also, I guess I was looking for my place in life. Still am I guess.”

  This time Kevin made the proclamation, imitating his wife’s prudent formula: “It’s nice to find what you think might be your place in life, Luke. But it’s even better to find God’s place for your life.” Karla nodded Good Work to her husband.

  Bert interrupted, to get them to finish up their euchre game: “It’s better still when somebody PLAYS A CARD! Don’t make me take you outside and work you over again,” he warned with feigndrath and jestfury69, pointing falsangrily at Kevin the Troll.

  They had to go outside anyway after the game, coz they could see through the window that another traveler was approaching the gate. Kevin went to the desk, made him line up, then rolled a 9 and let him into the city. Luke watched a little enviously, until he remembered what the Trolls had taught him about being better off.

  Karla set up a tent for Bert and Luke to sleep in, and then she sat at the desk to work the nightshift as gatekeeper. (The Minotaur would relieve her at daybreak.) Kevin hung out with the two cool pilgrims for a while, telling ghost stories before they bunked down. It was kind of spooky and fun, except for the fact that Kevin would end each ghost story with the same line, and if someone else was telling the story, he would generously supply the ending for them too: “AND THEN A BIG TROLL CAME ALONG AND FRIGHTENED AWAY ALL THE GHOSTS! RAAAA!” It was funny the first time, but Bert got tired of it quickly and said, OK, Bedtime. As Kevin left to go inside to his bed, he reminded them how what they had discussed earlier applied, noting: “See, you guys wanted to tell ghost stories all night, but instead you get to have a good night’s sleep! ‘Sometimes when you don’t get what you want, you get something better’. Nighty-night fellas.”

  In the morning, after refreshing sleep and another bowl of ’Wheats, Bert and Luke were on the porch, making ready to leave. They gave their Troll friends handshakes and pats on the shoulder, and Bert the Hack thanked them for their hospitality, commemorating the occasion with a hastily-devised Limerick of Appreciation:

  “There once was a guy named Bill Heshwanedderah

  Whose sexual orientation was hetera-

  Faced with my situation,

  Without hesitation,

  He’d say ‘Thanks for the small snack, et cetera.’”70

  (The best thing to do with that ridiculous effort was just say a quick “You’re welcome-and-so-forth,” and move on, the Trolls decided.)

  Luke was more thankful for the insights they had given him, regarding finding something ‘Better’. But he had been thinking about it, and had to ask before going: “So if the way I think I should be going isn’t always the best way for me to go, how will I ever know if I am on the right track?”

  The Trolls answered in unison, with the other word Luke would add to his notes: “Trust!” Then Karla elaborated, “As long as you are willing to be led by God, trust God to make the track!” Luke was satisfied, and he and Bert said more good-byes and thank-yous, and waved until they were well south of the hut.

  Then, looking down, Luke realized that there was indeed, at their feet, a well-worn track. Smiling, they followed it south to the Pope’s Office.