[The Troll]

The Troll wanders the street just outside of Copenhagen's Hotel Touche, the place of respite reserved for him for this his first appearance what is affectionately coined as "the City of Spires". He had been contacted weeks ago to clear his schedule (HA!) to better ensure that he could have his passport at the ready for his economy flight to Denmark. Of course he had been reserved a First Class ticket but when he had arrived at the airport, the stupid airline had made some grievous error and downgraded his flight to the worst of the worst. Stuck between a crying baby and a fat nun.

The Troll was a first believer that fat people should have to pay double for their flights - no questions asked. It was just a common courtesy for those around them. And kids shouldn't be allowed on airlines - AT ALL!

Still, the Troll took everything in stride - as he was just that sort of gallant warrior, willing to go to great lengths to satisfy and entertain ALL of his fans aka his peeps. Even having the taxi drop him off at the hotel by almost a block and forcing him to heft his heavy luggage the remainder of the way there, passing several stoners who were practically out cold on the hotel's doorstep, stoned out of their collective minds. Not to mention the bevy of international hookers who were hanging out on the corners of the building and nearby lampposts, looking to score an easy buck for a night's work.

As the Troll neared, one such 'lady of the evening' took notice of his approach. Average-looking, she had a medium build and a natural appearance; her features neither striking nor unusual. Her hair was left to fall around her shoulders, and she wore light makeup. She was wearing a mini skirt that ended above the knee, paired with a simple blouse tucked in. She stood upright and approached the now gaping, wide-eyed Troll with her hips swaying to and fro, until she stopped short.

She looked him up and down and sneered.

Prostitute: Ved nærmere eftertanke ville jeg hellere sulte for natten!

Turning her back to the Troll and walking back to her post. The Troll frowned, not knowing what she just said but knowing well enough it wasn't an offer to rock his world.

The Troll: Oh yeah!? Well I'm disease free and I'm happy to stay that way!

And right on cue, every 'prostitueret' turned their heads as one and glared at him, prompting him to swallow hard and hurry thru the doors of the hotel as quickly as he could manage.

The Wisdom of the Troll

The camera turns on for this the latest podcast of the (in)famous Troll, as his rotund face filled the camera. he sat back and he was in his hotel room right here in Copenhagen. The small hotel room was cramped behind him. The dim, overhead yellow light cast a tired glow over faded, mismatched furniture. A single bed behind him sagged in the middle, its linens thin and questionably clean. The air smells faintly of mildew, and the tiny window barely overlooked a noisy alley. In the corner, a miniature TV from another decade flickered with poor reception. There was a sense that everything needed a good scrubbing - or a replacement.

The Troll shook his head.

The Troll: I swear to God, the things I go through to bring a bit of joy and light into the world around me. You peeps would not believe what Mark Ward and Christian Underwood have been putting me through ever since they called me and practically begged me to be a part of probably the most forgettable tour in this promotion's sad little history. I mean, even that haunted locations tour was more memorable than this and that is saying something! But I said yes, because that's just the sort of good-natured soul that I am. And how do they thank me?

He held up his hand and counted off on his pudgy fingers.

The Troll: By LETTING my flight reservations get changed. By booking me in a hotel that would make the worst in the states look like a five star resort! I mean, I thought this place was supposed to be quaint and fun but staying in this pig stye is like camping out in a dumpster - at least the raccoons are tidy and the food's better! So I have a bone to pick with the bosses and you know who I'm going to take it out on? The new 'golden boy' of SCW! Jayden Harris!

The Troll sneered.

The Troll: Jayden Harris, I don't know what else that I can say to you that the world hasn't shouted in your face already. Your clearly unwashed hair looks like it’s been through a tornado and came out with a personal vendetta against combs. Even wild animals would think twice before making a nest in that mess! You look like a human spaghetti noodle with a bad sense of style and a chest hair pattern that could only be described as a failed road map. But hey, at least it looks like you groom the hair on your upper body better than you do that rat's nest on your ugly head!

I tell you! This is going to be my easiest win ever! Jayden, watching you try to fight is like seeing a toddler swing at a piñata—lots of flailing, zero coordination, and everyone just feels sorry for you. And after I'm done with you, they'll feel worse for you than they did after that Looney Tune Vincent Lyons did to you at the Elimination Chamber! Count on it!

The Troll extended a hand and with one digit, turned off his laptop and the screen went black.