The Troll Who Holds the Remote Control

“Hello there.”

“Umm… hi.”

“Hi, yes. Hi are you?
I am the Troll Who Holds the Remote Control.
And what are you doing here at this the ehh…
what is this the DMV?”

“I’m just renewing my license.”

“Ahh yes! Pretty woman.
You drive me crazy I swear, but not to offend.
Consider the license renewed but please don’t kill.
I’m a lover but not with the fighting.”

“Umm… what?”

“Yes! You like to know more about me.
I understand.
It is only natural so here I say to you:
I am The Troll Who Holds The Remote Control.”

“The who?”

“No. Not the Who. The Who is a band.
I am The Troll Who Holds the Remote Control.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you cannot see because I do not have it now.
The remote its in a ehh… remote location so I speak.
I mean, I can barely control myself
the way my buttons you push!
You feel the same way, yes?”

“Umm… No.”

“Exactly!
I am the Troll Who Holds the Remote Control.
So let’s go?”

“I’m sorry but I’m not interested.”

“I hear, but in your words there is
as we say in the business,
the ehh… remote possibility?”

“No.”

“Come on now let us not beat around the popsicle.
I am not licked yet, there is still one more round.
With your new license we shall go
like a magician’s carpet for the ride at my place.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Yes, you’re right!
It is not my place but the old man’s.
I say its mine to make better impression
of myself to you,
but you see through me like window.”

“Really… I’m not interested.”

“Yes! I too am enjoying this conversation.
See how I suspend my belief so as not to be hurt
by your rejection like a bridge letting people
across a water filled with heinous beasts?

You know, before I hold the remote control
I was in charge of such things.
I was the head of a moat in France.
I wanted to leave but ehh… they pro-moated me.
They ehh… moat-ivated me to climb
the ladder’s corporation as you say.
I would speak to the other Trolls
as a moat-ivational speaker.”

“I’m sorry but what you’re saying is not interesting to me.”

“You wonder which job I liked best?
That is a very natural question to ask.
Well, being in charge of the moat was a positive thing.
There was sunshine and trees. Water and wind.
But now I stay inside the old man’s house
sitting around all day long
changing channels for him on the screen with TV,
often never seeing the light of day
or breathing fresh air so… you know.
The greenest grass is always over there, right?
But in these days you cannot live like before Madonna
was born you know?

“You mean like a pre-Madonna?”

“This I don’t know.”

“Sir, I do not mean to be impolite…
But I’m simply not interested in continuing to listen
to your incoherent nonsense.”

“I understand. Yes, it is hard.
Well, not that you would know but maybe in the future?
But the line you have not gone from,
giving me greater chance to pursue this advance.

“Oy…
OK Troll Who Holds the Remote Control.
Since you insist on talking,
let’s just move this along shall we?”

“Your encouragement is like sweet honey to my ears, y’know?
Not like that sour honey so oftenly described.
I shall tell you what I did before I was in charge of the moat.
It was a dark time.
I was in a low place back then.
I was ehh… de-moated if you get the obvious pun?”

“Sure.”

“Yes, let me tell you what I do.
I was in the room of poker.”

“Poker you say?”

“Yes, I tell you woman. I know how to play
when the card is right!
I was there in the night after everyone else was gone.
With the satellite.”

“Oh, you mean you played in satellite tournaments?
Wow. I like a man who plays poker!
I find it really sexy.”

“Listen, I do not play around on the job.
It was hard work, I swear to you but not out loud.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Troll
No, that’s not what I mean.
Of course you were working.
I just meant it really turns me on, y’know?”

“Yes, that is right the satellite I turned on.
After people are gone, I turn on the satellite
so that people at home like the old man
can see how they play.”

“Wait… you mean? You weren’t a poker player?”

“How many times must I tell you
there is no playing around when I am working.
We trolls are proud people!”

“Wait…
OK… I think I understand.
So you weren’t playing poker in satellite tournaments…
but simply installing the satellite
in order to have the tournaments broadcasted?”

“Yes, this is what I say all along.
I install the satellite there.
The message should be loud and clear, no?”

“Gotcha.
OK well, I’m sorry Troll…
I didn’t mean to lead you on
because now that I understand what you’re saying
I’m not interested in you.”

“Oh my the good!
If I was not covered with mud from head to rug
you would see how my face is red like
the rash I have in my inner thigh area.”

“Wow… OK that was too much.
But either way, I’d just like to be left alone now.”

“I hear you but pretend its not true.
My ego is too fragile to withstand you’re clearly
stated intent.
I therefore continue despite the obvious resistance
like a football player as I have been conditioned
to think in terms of American Sports Metaphors.”

“I understand.”

“Yes, you see like the remote, there is no stop button.
There is an on/off switch that is true, but it ehh..
well it doesn’t really support the justification
I am giving for why I continue to harass you
despite your clear desire to be left alone
as you pursue this relatively mundane activity.”

“Alright.”

“Yes, my life is not all roses sleeping in bed.
I make mistake and the old man he is not entertainment.
His anger becomes the channel directed in my face.
I tell him, hey we are all human
but he points out that I am not which is true
but still it hurts when he say.

For example, sometimes I accidentally hit the mute button.
The mistake is innocent as far as virginity goes.
But then the old man his voice becomes so high
and I cannot lower the volume.
I tell him to relax, it is a ehh… moot point
but his tape cannot rewind.

One time he was so upset he tried to charge me
with both the arm and batteries.
I told him, I’m sorry but I cannot no.
I am attached.
It’s a long story but ehh… I digress.”

“Right…”

“No, it was the left arm he wanted.
But I use that too for other things.

Now, as for the remote
to who it belongs this I cannot say.
We trolls have only our pride!
I will never betray the old man.”

“That’s fine.”

“OK! OK! I’ll speak.
Torture my soul no more!
His name is Dr. Paul Swanson.
There I gave him to you do as you wish.
He is the dentist from the town that is downwards.

He works hard but with him it is hard working with.
As he say it is like the teeth he pulls.
One time he tried to give me the filling, but I said no.
He talked of the drill but this I knew not.
He says he learned the doctorate of philosophy.”

“You mean Philosophy?”

“Yes! Flossophy.
The meaning of the mouth.
He told me this. Tongue and cheek!
You have to read between the teeth,
especially when the exam is oral.
It was too much for me to chew,
I could not swallow.

But that is all I will say!
I cannot betray Dr. Paul Swanson!
He is too good a man.

Yes, I am the Troll Who Holds the Remote Control.
I sit here in the dentist’s lazy chair
working so hard,
scrolling endlessly through the commercials
and sitcoms, weather and movie…

But in the end, it is I who hopes that one day
I may find someone who can hold me,
so that I do not have to change anymore.