To Escape A Troll

Back at the bar…

“Jonny, I’m starting to wonder if there is a point to all these stories. If you want to just tell tales, that’s fine, but right now all we’re doing is talking about the ‘good old days.’ Where is all of this going?” Collins said as the wings arrived at the table.

“That’s true, but like I said, all of this stuff is important. I think I know what I want to say. I think the story of how you wound up with “The Bride” is a good one, and it starts with all of those adventures. You would never have found her if all this stuff hadn’t happened. You would never have been where you are or who you are if Schmidty and I hadn’t been there to slap you on the back of the head.”

Schmidty chimed in, saying, “He has a good point. None of us are the same people we were when you guys first started working at the school. A lot of life has happened, and it’s probably good for people to see that progression. Everyone has moments that, when you put them all together, have brought them to where they are today; your moments just happen to be going into a wedding speech.”

“Yeah, fair enough, but still…what does getting banned from that store have to do with anything?”

“Well, what happened after that?”

“You moved to Michigan.”

“Yes, but what else? You got bored and lonely because Schmidty was dating Kara…”

Schmidt laughed, realizing where this conversation was leading. “I was seeing Kara and you started dating…”

Collins’ eyes grew big as it dawned on him that the next part of this journey down memory lane was a rather embarrassing one. “No…you can’t talk about her at my wedding. Are you insane?”

Jon chuckled, and replied, “Not the whole story, just the good part.”

  • –        –       –       –       –       –       –       –       –       –       –       –       –       –

Collins and Schmidty stepped out of the SUV and stood in the driveway for a moment. They each lit up a cigarette and stared up at the 2nd floor landing of the duplex, where Collins’ girlfriend had piled all his things in garbage bags. They smoked in silence, and when they had finished, flicked their cherries into the lawn.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Collins sighed.

Schmidt nodded and they began to climb the stairs. Collins had been living with his girlfriend for about three weeks now. She was crazy, but he thought he was “in love” with her. He was not, nor would he ever be. In all honesty, he had a serious messiah complex and felt the need to “rescue” people he thought were in need. His girlfriend (we’ll call her The Troll) recognized this and took advantage of it, keeping him around until she didn’t need him anymore. Then, she kicked him to the curb. Or rather, while he was visiting his friends, she broke up with him, took everything he owned, put it on the porch, and told him he had two hours to come pick it all up. She said his stuff was being burned out back if he didn’t come get it. She was kind of a bitch.

So Collins and Schmidt drove to the house and got his stuff. She had thrown everything she wanted him to take into garbage bags (including a bunch of dirty dishes) and placed it outside the door, and apparently had left the house. After loading it all into Schmidt’s car, Collins found that his key still worked for the door. Thus, the two of them strolled through the house and found a few other things that belonged to Collins and confiscated them.

On their way out, they paused, wanting to foolishly take some sort of revenge on The Troll for being so evil.

“Hey…I think she still has a bunch of booze in the freezer. Let’s take it and throw a party!”

“No…we can’t do that…but we can dump it all out, fill the bottles with water, and put them back.”

This seemed like a better plan to Collins anyway, and silently thanked his lucky stars that his friend was capable of being such a conniving prick. They took all the clear liquor in the house and dumped it out by the tree out back. Afterwards, they filled the bottles with water and placed them back in the freezer. Upon completion, it was time to hit the road…after one more pit stop.

“Dude, I still have to drop off these stupid keys at her mom’s house. Let’s swing by real quick and get out of this town.”

This went relatively according to plan, except that The Troll’s mother could smell the alcohol and thought they were drunk. Like the good citizen she was, she called the police, and on the way home, the boys were pulled over. Unsure of why they were stopped in the first place, they nervously waited for the policeman to approach their window.

“Well, now, gentlemen, do you know why I pulled you over?”

Schmidt replied, “Uh…no sir, not a clue.”

“We received a tip that two young men driving a vehicle of this description were driving intoxicated. How much have you had to drink tonight?”

Schmidt, being the driver, did all the talking. “We haven’t had anything to drink. We haven’t even had any water in several hours.”

“Boy’s, I’ve been on the force for sixteen years, and I know the smell of rum. You two smell like a liquor store. This will go a lot easier for everyone if you just ‘fess up right now.”

“We might SMELL like alcohol, considering we just dumped about three gallons of the stuff off a balcony not too long ago, but we didn’t drink any. Breathalize us.”

“I didn’t want it to come to this, but I’m going to need both of you to step out of the vehicle and place your hands behind your backs.”

Collins and Schmidt were handcuffed and sat in the police car while the officer ran their licenses, neither saying a word, but both obviously quite perturbed. When the officer finally got around to breathalizing them, he realized they were telling the truth. He turned very red (though it was rather hard to see in the middle of the night), and apologized profusely. He was so embarrassed that when he went to let them go and drive away, he forgot to uncuff them. After driving about ten feet, he reversed, took the handcuffs off, and sped away.

Schmidt and Collins looked at each other for a moment in disbelief and then burst out laughing.

“Dude, I need to call Jonny. He’s gonna want to hear this…”


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