You ever know somebody who hears a good story and then proceeds to tell everyone they know over and over and over again? Yeah? Well, now you know two.
So my husband’s best friend’s wife’s coworker’s nephew (no kidding. for real.) (yeah, it’s one of those stories.) (shut up) is a 16 year old mentally handicapped boy who we’ll call “Max”. Who happens to weigh approximately the same number of pounds as, oh, I dunno, a 300 pound man. (my genius is really flowing today) (as is, apparently, my grammatical skills).
WELL. The other day Max called his mother at work multiple times voicing the same concern each time.
Mama, there’s a troll in the closet!
Max, I’ll be home when I get off work and I’ll be glad to look at your troll, but right now Mama’s got to get some work done.
Twice. Three times. Four times. He called and called and called.
Mama! There’s a TROLL in the CLOSET!!!!
At 4 o’clock, Max’s mom had had enough and explained to her coworkers that she had finished her work and wanted to head home to check on Max and be sure he was alright. She drove home and was greeted at the door by Max.
Hey, Max! How was your day?
Mama! There’s a troll in the closet!
Alright, Max. Let’s go see your troll.
They strolled back to Max’s room where everything seemed normal save for a pack of Skittles strewn across the floor. She approached his closet, opened the door and found………wait for it……wait for it……….
A troll little person!
No, really. There was a little man, terrified beyond words, sitting in the bottom of Max’s closet.
See, Mama?! I told you there was a troll in my closet!
The “troll” was actually a US Census official doing his rounds in the neighborhood. Upon knocking on the front door, Max opened it, recognized the “troll” and, scared to death, snatched him from his spot on the front porch and stowed him away in his bedroom closet for safe keeping and promptly locked the door. And seeing as how trolls are directly related to leprechauns and leprechauns love rainbows and Skittles taste like the rainbow, well then…….he fed him Skittles, one by one, underneath the door. All day long.
Max’s mom was mortified. When she asked the man if he was okay, the little guy said he was a little scared, but had quickly realized that Max was handicapped and tried to reason with him.
Ma’am, I told him over and over again to please go call his mama!
True story!* Now, go be an annoying friend and tell everyone you know! Cuz that right there is funny!
*Yes, yes. The all-knowing internetz (and Joni) have since clarified for me the fact that this? was one BIG, FAT, MADE-UP story that may have happened SOMEWHERE but NOT HERE. Fool. Eh. It was funny, though.