You let out a monsterous belch.
It was late to say the least and you had been drinking the whole night away. Naturally, the burp sends you into a flurry of drunken giggling. Burps were so weird anyways. Like, why would you even call it a burp? It doesn't sound anything like a burp. It's the same with chickens. Chickens don't go bock. They make some other weird sound. You're writing down your thoughts the best you can. You firmly believed in drunk writing. You could actually get some pretty good ideas out of it. Leaning forward, you grab the bottle of vodka to the right of your computer. It's too light in your hand and doesn't make any sound as you swish it around. You lean back a little too far checking to see if there's any in it and, with all the grace your drunken mind possesses, you fall back onto the floor. Laying there you just giggle stupidly. God, you were so drunk.
After a few long minutes of laughter, you nab the bottle and hoist yourself to your feet. You were a little too drunk to be writing so you shut your computer and teeter away to go dump the empty bottle in the trash. If there were stairs on the way to your trash cans, you would absolutely be dead by now. That was probably why your work place was in that part of the house.
You jerk open the door, the sharp Nebraska air already slapping you in the face, and make your way to the back of the house where your trash is stashed. As you approach though, something clangs loudly. You stop walking and listen. There's another noise, this one softer. Something was going through your trash!
"F-Fuck." You whisper to yourself. You don't want to let it know that you were there. What if it was some creepy stalker dude that was looking for your used toothbrush or some shit like that!? The great part about living in the middle-of-nowhere Nebraska was that this was unlikely. The bad part, if it really was some crazy stalker dude, no one was around to hear you. Fortunately, this wasn't your first time dealing with trash raiders. After a raccoon had you cleaning up after it for a month solid, you'd gotten an electric chain linked fence around that end of the house. You remembered to actually turn it on just long enough to keep the raccoon from coming back.
Another clang and you were ready to take whatever it was on with your vodka bottle raised like a baseball bat. Taking the final few steps, you whirled around the corner, ready to bash some heads. And the culprit behind the trash raiding was indeed a... little girl? At least, you think so. You only managed to get a quick look at it when it darts away from the trash cans and out of the light. You can hear it bang against the fence in it's blind fleeing. It starts to climb up the fence as well but flops back down to the ground. Your mind is absolutely notcomprehending this. Everything is fuzzed over from the liquor and it takes you a moment to grasp what's going on. Oh crap. What if it was some kid? She'd be stuck here and why would she need to dig through your trash. This was starting to smell fishy. Another thump comes from where she ran off and you can only assume that she's failed once more to climb the fence. Another fuzzy though crawls into your head. What if she's hurt?
You toss the bottle into the already open can and close the distance between you and the girl. Damnit you can't see crap in this light.
"Hello?" You call into the darkness where you saw her disappear. There really wasn't much room in your little trash corner but it's so dark it doesn't matter. "It's ok." You say, slowly lowering yourself to the ground. "I'm nto goin to hurt you."
Something scuffs in the darkness. Based on how loud the sound was, whatever it was couldn't have been too far from you. With clumsy fingers you fish out your phone and use it as a light. What you see is definitely not what you expected.
It isn't a little girl at all, just something that looked like it. It's tiny body is curled up defensively, it's little grey legs pressed close to it's chest and twig-ish arms covering it's face. If not for the thin little tail curling around it's knees, the long furry ears, and the horns, you'd have thought it was human. Even with the grey skin! It was a fucking troll! What a troll was doing out here, you had no idea. Trolls were posh little animals those fancy Hollywood types liked to keep as pets. You'd seen them a few times, but only in the media when the tabloids decided to make a big deal of a celebrity getting a new pet. You'd never seen one up close before.
"Holy shit..." You mutter. The little creature responds your voice and peers out at you from behind her fingers. Did you know troll eyes were yellow? Well. Now you do. And they were really cool looking too! You just stare at the troll for a few minutes in drunken silence before your senses come back to you.
"Troll... What are- What... How did you get here?" Trolls understood humans right? You thought they did. If they didn't, who cared? You probably wouldn't remember having this conversation in the morning anyways. The little troll lowered her hands and turned the full front of her stare onto you. God she had big eyes. They were a weird dark grey and reflected light like a cat's.
Now that you get a better look at her, you can see her bony chest through the neckline of the ratty t-shirt she was wearing. Now that you think about it, her arms and legs seem a little too sharp too. Her face was too thin, that's probably why her eyes looked so big. You didn't know shit about trolls but you knew that they weren't supposed to look like that. You can't help but wonder when the last time she had a meal was. It sure would explain why a few things.
"Wait here." You wobble to your feet and run back inside. Hopefully the troll will do what you say and stay there. It takes a few minutes and almost face planting twice before you manage to return with a box of saltines in your hand. It was the first thing you saw so you just went for it. Thankfully the little troll is still there, waiting patiently. Where ever she came from, her owner must have trained her well. You unwrap a stack of crackers, nearly crushing them in the process, and offer one to her.
She's skeptical at first, constantly glancing at you and the cracker. How she can, you have no idea. Eventually she reaches out reaches out and swipes the thing from you before you can even blink. Damn she was fast. And hungry. She's already eaten the thing in one bite and is staring at the box in your hand like she might fight you for it. You pull out two crackers this time and she grabs them up just as fast. By the tenth cracker, she's no longer shoving them down her throat. It's horrible that she got to this point but you can't help but smile at her. She was cute. Her owners must really miss her, she seemed precious.
You're totally zoned out when she crawls over to you. It's not until she tugs the tube of crackers out of your hand that you even notice. You let her take them, they were just crackers after all, but she only forces out a few of them before giving the tube back to you. She plants herself in front of where your sitting and nibbles away at them, suddenly looking incredibly tired.
Naturally, you want to pet her. And nothing stops you. Your rational mind was nice and liquored up so there was no nagging about how she might have fleas or that she might bite you. She tenses as you reach out, stopping mid-snarf. It's not until you begin gently rubbing her soft hair that she relaxes, and even then, she still gives you wary glances in between nibbles. Something about her behavior seems a little off but you're too out of it to notice. A weird thought worms it's way into your head.
"Wanna go inside?" You ask, slowly drifting away. You were drunk and tired. Definitely time for a crash. The troll looked up at you with huge eyes as though you had just given her the moon. Silently, she nods. So you get up and lead her into your house. You don't really register what she's doing but her eyes are as wide as platters. She stops just inside the door and won't go any farther. You just leave her be and head to your couch, the box of crackers still in your hand. You're out before your head hits the cushions.