The Reverend and the Bridge Troll


Reverend Blair
#1
I was walking over the footbridge from The Forks into Old St. Boniface the other night...you know, the bridge that Stephen Harper made a point of insulting during the last election. That cost the stupid little bastard 5,000 or 10,000 votes right there. Winnipeggers love that bridge. It’s classy and modern. Idiots like Harper like to holler about the million dollar toilet, but the reality is that most of the plumbing had to be there anyway. You know how it is with the radical right though...they think they know the price of everything and it’s really obvious that they know the value of nothing.

Anyway, I’m crossing this bridge. I have what’s left of a six pack of Great Western dangling from one hand and a smoke in the other. About halfway across I thought I should stop and take in the view.

I was standing there, puffing on my cigarette and sipping on a beer, and watching the Paddlewheel Queen lumber by when I noticed a smell. I turned around. There was a huge, blue, slathering troll there.

“Hello,” I said to the troll, extending my hand, “My name is Reverend Blair.”

“Me Doug,” grumbled the troll. “This my bridge, you must pay toll.” I noticed that he had a bit of a drawl and kind of a lisp too.

I took a sip of beer and considered, “Well, Doug, as far as I know this bridge was built with public money so that all who crossed it could enjoy the walk, and all who saw it could enjoy the beauty.”

“My bridge!” Doug insisted.

“‘fraid not Doug. This bridge belongs to all of us. You can sleep under it if you want, but you have to leave people alone.”

“Privatise!” Bellowed Doug. He was clearly getting agitated.

“No, Doug...public. For all of us. The restaurant is rented out to Burton Cummings. That was likely a bad idea because of the bad food that Burt’s company sells, but that’s the only private thing about this bridge.”

Doug jumped around a bit...he actually looked like a little kid doing the pee-pee dance. “Private better, me make toll money.”

“It’s not your bridge, Doug.” I finished my beer and tossed the empty in the recycle bin. I considered moving on, then realised I was quite enjoying myself. I lit a smoke and opened another can of Great Western.

Doug the blue troll sniffed the air, then looked at the beer. “Give Doug beer!” he said.

“No, Doug,” I replied, “This beer is made by union workers. They do not want their hard work wasted on radical right bridge trolls.”

Doug looked suddenly dejected, “If I had gun, I just take beer.”

“You don’t have a gun though, do you, Doug?”

“No. Stupid government!” Doug was close to tears.

I extended my pack of Marlboros to him. “Here, have a smo...” Doug grabbed the whole pack and ate it. I stubbed my lit smoke on his left cheek.

“Owie,” said Doug, rubbing his cheek, “Why you do that?”

“Because you ate my smokes.”

He pondered that for a second, then said, “You just hate me because I’m blue.” He seemed to be regaining his original vigour. I wondered if he was manic depressive. I discovered, much to my delight, that I didn’t care.

“Nonsense. I don’t hate anybody. I just don’t tolerate greedy little bastards who would do anything for a dollar and keep trying to steal what belongs to everybody.”

“Not steal, privatise.” Doug the blue troll returned to doing his version of the pee pee dance. “Now give me toll. Give me beer.”

I kind of giggled a bit. I couldn’t help it. He looked ridiculous and was clearly even less intelligent than the average blue troll. I finished my beer and began walk past him.

“I don’t want stupid bridge anyway,” Doug screamed, “It have million dollar socialist toilet!”

Now I’m a tolerant guy, and I’m not prone to violence, but I’ve got my limits. I whacked him across the eyes with my two remaining union-made beer. That got his attention. He rushed me, screaming something nonsensical about socialism. I side-stepped him, then tripped him as he stumbled past. He slid head first into the railing on the other side, knocking himself out cold.

I took the plastic ring thingy from around the beer cans and fashioned a set of handcuffs suitable for restraining even the most agitated troll. I dragged him back to my truck, then transported him to my house where I had the dogs keep an eye on him while I fashioned a crate out of old pallets.

I took the crate down to the CN station, slapped a couple of stickers on it that said “Live Animal” and arranged for him to go to Moose Jaw. My friend Derry will pick him up there. Derry raises goats and, as we all know from the children’s literature, goats know what to do with trolls.
 
Vanni Fucci
#2


Awesome story Rev!!!

Tell us another one!!! :P
 
bluealberta
#3
Well, at least that proves you have a very vivid imagination. You must get very lonely out on that island thinking up idiocy like that. After all, what self respecting troll would even consider Winnipeg or Manitoba for that matter as a home when there are so many better choices than that, like, oh, Harlem, skid row in Atlanta, the north or south pole, Iraq, Iran, etc.

But I hear they love false reverends there, which just goes to show that the stories are true. Winnipeg has a lot of class, but it's all third.
 
bluealberta
#4
Quote: Originally Posted by Vanni Fucci



Awesome story Rev!!!

Tell us another one!!! :P

Aw, Vanni, you disappoint me. Who knew you still liked to read childrens fairy tales. Are you sleazy, sneezy, stupidzy, or who?
 
Vanni Fucci
#5
Quote: Originally Posted by bluealberta

Quote: Originally Posted by Vanni Fucci



Awesome story Rev!!!

Tell us another one!!! :P

Aw, Vanni, you disappoint me. Who knew you still liked to read childrens fairy tales. Are you sleazy, sneezy, stupidzy, or who?

Heh...see ya...
 
Reverend Blair
#6
Quote:

Awesome story Rev!!!

Tell us another one!!!

Maybe tomorrow.
 
Cosmo
#7
****, Rev, you oughta write a book. Love those bedtime stories!

You have a wonderful imagination ... although that one hits a bit close to the truth.
 
Ten Packs
#8
Quote: Originally Posted by bluealberta

After all, what self respecting troll would even consider Winnipeg or Manitoba for that matter as a home when there are so many better choices than that, like, oh, Harlem, skid row in Atlanta, the north or south pole, Iraq, Iran, etc.


...or Edmonton.
 
mrmom2
#9
Deadmonton Ten :P
 
zenfisher
#10
aaahhh...we know how the right wing feel about creativity, now don't we y'all. Good tale Blair. You should publish a book of political stoires for children Rev.
 
Cosmo
#11
I've been nagging him to do so!
 
Vanni Fucci
#12
I'd say this story is almost on parr with Mouseland... :P
 
zenfisher
#13
Nagging the Rev never works Cosmo. You have to appeal to his sense of fighting injustice....or buy him lots of beer.
 
Cosmo
#14
Thanks for the tip Zen ... I will employ new tactics! I've already offered to type everything out for him if he dictates it onto a tape.
 
zenfisher
#15
Funnt thing is his stories get more creative with the more beer plied to him.
 
Cosmo
#16
Well, you all will have to make a trip out here to the rock and we'll ply him with beer.
 
zenfisher
#17
Edge and I are working on it...The Rev and the Mrs...might be a little more of a problem.
 
no1important
#18
I am surprised that old paddle wheeler is still running........How is your friend Derry anyways? haven't seen him post in a while
 
Cosmo
#19
We'll have to take up a fund and fly them out! Lots of us here on the Rock would love to meet the four of you!!
 
Frito lay
#20
Hey Pea Pot, "Curtain Twitchers", you just reminded me of the Majore Family in Port Alberni. I remember when I was a kid the Majore's were a very religious Catholic Family and would often have an intrest in the satanic happenings in the Ole Nieghbour hood. Infact to this day I often Laff about these happenings. We refered to them as the Gaulker Family as they would all stand at the little kitchen window and Gaulk. It would be Daddy Gaulker in the back as he was Tallest followed by Moma Gaulker, Big Sister Gaulker, Little Sister Gaulker and various little brother Gaulkers in the very front. To this day I wonder what the hell the big intrest in me and my little buddies Peeing into the holes in the storm drain covers. Hmmm funny, I don't recall any Catholic Priests in the the Ole Hood. Oh I forgot yes there was, in fact there was the one time me and Ken Atherly found a paper bag full of condoms under the old Catholic Church. We found these fine ballons in the crawl space and the old Priest heard us and yelled at us. He took chase and we out ran the old prick. Ok, we get to my house, got about fifty of these Saxon Condoms, proceeded to fill them with water and throw them at each other and on Dads Holly hedge along the road in front of the house, it was a mess. I think it was a Friday as Dad had Fish & Chips from Bety's Deep Fry under his arm (Some Catholic friday fish bull**** thing). I will never forget Dad Screaming his head off. "THE NIEGHBOURS ARE GOING TO THINK THERE IS A ****ING ORGY GOING ON HERE". I am LMFAO just writing this.. Thank you to the curtain twitcher.
 
edgerunner
#21
Well, Pea,
I hear that you've been talkin to my hubby behind my back. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO How often does the boat run? Keep your curtains twitchin,
 
peapod
#22
think it was a Friday as Dad had Fish & Chips from Bety's Deep Fry under his arm

You gots to be kidding me...I remember yur dad's friday night fish and chips....and I also remember how ascared I was of him..funny innit??

Yes edge I was talkin to your hubby, right after I was talkin to you...Funny innit?? :P
 
Scape
#23
Yummy (external - login to view)
 
Jay
#24
Quote: Originally Posted by Reverend Blair

I was walking over the footbridge from The Forks into Old St. Boniface the other night...you know, the bridge that Stephen Harper made a point of insulting during the last election. That cost the stupid little bastard 5,000 or 10,000 votes right there. Winnipeggers love that bridge. It’s classy and modern. Idiots like Harper like to holler about the million dollar toilet, but the reality is that most of the plumbing had to be there anyway. You know how it is with the radical right though...they think they know the price of everything and it’s really obvious that they know the value of nothing.
Anyway, I’m crossing this bridge. I have what’s left of a six pack of Great Western dangling from one hand and a smoke in the other. About halfway across I thought I should stop and take in the view.
I was standing there, puffing on my cigarette and sipping on a beer, and watching the Paddlewheel Queen lumber by when I noticed a smell. I turned around. There was a huge, blue, slathering troll there.
“Hello,” I said to the troll, extending my hand, “My name is Reverend Blair.”
“Me Doug,” grumbled the troll. “This my bridge, you must pay toll.” I noticed that he had a bit of a drawl and kind of a lisp too.

Quote has been trimmed

Good story Rev.
 
peapod
#25
Frito said:
I will never forget Dad Screaming his head off. "THE NIEGHBOURS ARE GOING TO THINK THERE IS A *censored* ORGY GOING ON HERE". I am LMFAO just writing this.. Thank you to the curtain twitcher

Thats a famous story on 8th ave Hey I seen one of those majors not long ago...they did not grow up to be curtain twitchers Oi! bigh, look at what you started, frito loves the "curtain twitchers" phrase
 
Jay
#26
"(Some Catholic friday fish bull**** thing)."


It's an English tradition isn't it....I think the King wanted to increase the marine fleets so he ordered for people to eat fish on Fridays....

Maybe our resident English Chap Henry can confirm for me.
 
manda
#27
Hey Rev, if I offer you a smiley beer , would you tell us another? perhaps I' ll post something of my own one of these days
 
Andygal
#28
I love it! Rev, if you wrote a book, I'd buy it in a heartbeat.
 
Twila
#29
Quote:

curtain twitchers

What does this mean?
 
peapod
#30
Twinks, well you know how sometimes you see closed curtains, and all of sudden you see them move as in twitch Well you can bet is some nosey parker with no life...spying on people...curtain twitchers twinks.
 

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