Humor | Satire | Parenting
I’m the “Troll” Under the Bridge and This Is All a Big Misunderstanding
Those Billy Goats got it all wrong
I was only looking for some peace and quiet. It was 6:30 a.m. and I had already been up for three hours, had prepared (and thrown away) two meals, and cleaned up one batch of suspiciously purple vomit from my first outfit.
It was just like any other day.
I tried hiding in the closet, but my kids found me wrapped in a robe, watching Netflix’s Perfect Match on silent with captions on.
Is Harry really hot or is he just tall?
I tried hiding in the bathroom instead, but the next thing I knew I was surrounded by screams of “WHY IS MOMMY IN THE BATHTUB I NEED TO POOOOOOP!”
This was the only place left to go. The only place they wouldn’t find me.
Under the bridge.
How was I to know that a throuple of frolicking goats would choose that very day to cross to the other side of the bridge? Don’t they know the grass is always greener but rarely tastier on the other side? It’s probably greener because it’s full of pesticides. And not even organic ones. If they had stayed put none of this would have happened.
