The Trolls of Cambridge

Every fourth week my quaint and quiet little Cambridge street is attacked by trolls.

These trolls are known car eaters, and love nothing more than to capture an unassuming vehicle and whisk it away to their dingy, nasty lair. It's a horrible sight really - watching your innocent, helpless car get tied up and carried away, writhing and screaming.

There are many different types of trolls, and each one has a name. Some are named Bill, while others yet are named B&B, and sometimes, an unknown, unnamed troll will make an appearance to gobble up any left-overs.

Cambridge residents are intimately familiar with the trolls and their planned witching hours. Every fourth week the harassed town-folk are desperately calling each other to warn of the impending arrival of the trolls.

At about 7am, the alarm goes off.

"Get your car to safety and for god's sake, make sure you know where your children are!"

What follows is a flurry of activity - people running to the streets to get their cars, the sounds of closing shutters, the clicking of locks and a collective silence as the townspeople hold their breath while the nefarious trolls make their rounds.

This morning, my car almost became prey to the troll named Bill. I ran to my car as fast as possible, brandishing my sword (ok, not really) and defending my car from Bill's clutches. I furiously fumbled for my key (imagine a horror movie), and managed to turn on the ignition seconds before Bill could catch me. While I sped away, I watched in horror as the other cars were captured. I felt so helpless - there was nothing I could do for them.

Street cleaning days suck.


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