"She still won't eat. Or do much of anything, really. I don't know what to do anymore."
Droog glanced down at the tiny wiggler in his arms. They had found these little guys just two days ago. Four of them. Four baby trolls. Deuce had insisted on keeping them, saying they would've died otherwise. But it didn't seem like taking this little one in would make any difference. Slick's was already proving to be a handful. Droog could hear him yelling at the wiggler through the phone. But at least the grub was okay. Boxcars and Deuce's wigglers were doing well, too. So, why wasn't his? It seemed that he had got the only girl in the group. He had to admit, raising a little girl could be interesting. But he doubted he would ever get to experience it. She'd hardly stirred in the past two days. And she refused to eat. He kept bugging her with a bottle of milk, like Boxcars had told him to, but she just turned her small head away.
"Man, I don't know. Maybe she just wasn't meant to make it. That happens sometimes. Hold on." He heard Slick yell at the grub to be quiet, and then a crash. Slick sighed. "Tell you what, I'll trade you mine for yours. I never signed up for this, anyway."
"She's not dead yet, Slick. I'm not giving up on her."
"Whatever. I just thought I'd give you a chance of raising a nice little grub, but ..." Another crash. "Dammit, kid!"
He was going to comment, but something caught his eye. The wiggler in his arms had finally decided to drink the milk. There, he knew it. He'd never give up on this one.
"Atta girl."