Politically Correct Bedtime Stories Read Free

dirt-accomplished, and odourenhanced. ‘Yaaarrrgh!!’ intoned the troll. ‘I am the keeper of this bridge, and while goats may have the right to cross it, I’ll eat any that try!’
    ‘But why, Mr Troll?’ bleated the goat.
    ‘Because I’m a troll, and proud of it. I have a troll’s needs, and those needs include eating goats, so you better respect them or else.’
    The goat was frightened. ‘Certainly, sir,’ he stammered. ‘If eating me would help you become a more complete troll, nothing would please me more. But I really can’t commit to that course of action without first consulting my siblings. Will you excuse me?’ And the goat ran back to the valley.
    Next, the middle sibling goat came up to the bridge. This goat was more chronologically advanced than the first goat and so enjoyed an advantage in size (although this did not make him a better or more deserving goat). He was about to cross the bridge when the troll stopped him.
    ‘Nature has made me a troll,’ he said, ‘and I embrace my trollhood. Would you deny me my right to live the life of a troll as fully and effectively as I can?’
    ‘Me? Never!’ exclaimed the goat proudly.
    ‘Then stand still there while I come over and eat you up. And don’t try to run away; I would take that as a personal affront.’ He began to invade the goat’s caprinal space.
    ‘However,’ blurted the goat, ‘I have a very close family, and it would be selfish of me to allow myself to be eaten without asking their opinion. I have respect for their feelings, too. I would hate to think that my absence would cause them any emotional stress, if I hadn’t first …’
    ‘Go then!’ screamed the troll.
    ‘I’ll rush back here as soon as we reach a consensus,’ the goat said, ‘for it’s not fair to keep you in suspense.’
    ‘You’re too kind,’ sighed the troll, and the goat ran back to the valley. As his hunger grew, the troll began to feel a real grievance towards the goats. If he didn’t get to eat at least one of them, he was determined to go to the authorities.
    When the third goat came to the bridge, the troll discovered that he was nearly twice the troll’s size, with large, sharp horns and hard, heavy hooves. The troll felt his physical-intimidation prerogative fading fast. As fear turned his insides into jelly, the troll sank to his knees and pleaded, ‘Oh, please, please forgive me! I was using you and your goat siblings for my own selfish ends. I don’t know what drove me to it, but I’ve seen the error of my ways.’
    The goat, too, got down on what passed for knees in goats and said, ‘Now, now, you can’t take all the blame for yourself. Our presence and supreme edibility put you in this situation. My siblings and I all feel terrible. Please, you must forgive us.’
    The troll began to sob. ‘No, no, it’s all my fault. I threatened and bullied you all, just for the sake of my own survival. How selfish I was!’
    But the goat would have none of this. ‘We were the selfish ones. We only wanted to save our own skins, and we totally neglected your needs. Please, eat me now!’
    ‘No,’ the troll said, ‘you must butt me off this bridge for my insensitivity and selfishness.’
    ‘I’ll do no such thing,’ said the goat, ‘since we all tempted you in the first place. Here, have a chomp. Go ahead.’
    ‘I’m telling you,’ the troll insisted, standing up, ‘I’m the guilty one here. Now, knock me off this bridge and be quick about it!’
    ‘Look,’ said the goat, rearing to his full height, ‘no one is going to take away my blame for this, not even you, so eat me before I pop you in the nose.’
    ‘Don’t play guiltier-than-thou with me, Hornhead!’
    ‘“Hornhead”? You smelly hairball! I’ll show you guilt!’ And with that, they wrestled and bit and punched and kicked as each sought to don the mantle of blame.
    The other two goats bounded up to the bridge and sized up the fight. Feeling guilty at not accepting enough