Reply To: Herr D's CFLs

[Herr D]

2/3/18

Mr. Henrikson:

Today, my morning run along the fiord to the job you promised me had ‘nothing dangerous’ about it, was interrupted. A half-kilo out, I saw my car was torn in half. Rooting through the wreckage was a troll. He had a height of eight feet, shoulder span of about five, nose width about two. He saw me and gave chase till he realized sunrise was imminent.

He ran back to the shack, attempting to get under it, but smashed through it completely, along with the entire inventory, save a single beach umbrella and five packs of salted nuts. I would have took a picture with my cellphone, but I have no space left. My family photos are much more important as they have passed on.

He was looking for cold medicine, as one of his victims had had a cold. He sneezed out a booger as big as my head, which turned to feldspar. In doing so, he nearly dropped the umbrella that was keeping his upper third safe, save most of an ear and his left arm. I demanded payment for your business and my car. He refused, explaining he wouldn’t buy anything broken. I realized his home was probably under the old bridge another hundred meters past my parking place. I told him he could give me all his gold or give me the umbrella back. He agreed and told me how to enter his lair. After I had a look at the other items in his possession and took a partial deposit, I demanded all his stored possessions in exchange for not phoning the quarry before sunset. I demonstrated by calling the realty company for the value of the building just destroyed and the approximate value of a gravel-covered lot in its place. He agreed, though angrily. I called a cab. I went to town. I hired an armored truck,  began your insurance claim, requested a tax reassessment and a large dumpster, and personally visited a rental car agency, a department store, a bank, and the quarry.

I made him agree not to come after me or send anyone or anything after me in exchange for four tubes of sunblock, which I applied with a long-handled mop. He ate the mop, the umbrella, and the nuts afterwards in exchange for loading the dumpster with all the debris he didn’t wish to eat with his then-free arm. With the armored truck and the dumpster full, I drove off as the quarry workers arrived, ready to hose off some sunblock and harvest some stone. I had several more stops to make with my rental, including the bank, the police, and the post to send you this notice.

You will see I am not heartless, as I opened a business account in your name for the retail amount of the inventory I could verify, the till amount minus my coming net pay, and a sizeable deposit for a new business location. The police now have several missing persons’ belongings and a story they don’t believe. Your cousin? The one with the cold? They verified for me he was working the shack when he disappeared. They’ll ask you some questions, no doubt. Since I didn’t move to this frozen wasteland till after he was eaten, they didn’t do more than check my passport history and listen to me claim I ‘found’ their stuff under a bridge.

Don’t try to find me. He told me how to call trolls to eat my enemies. I’m retiring somewhere sunny with very few bridges.

Your ex-employee,

Harry Brown

 

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