Trolled

It started with cereal.

I have always been a huge fan-- perhaps this has something to do with the fact that I watched Jerry Seinfeld and his friends shovel it into their mouthes throughout random conversations about nothing for a great deal of my developmental years-- and as such, I like to have a few boxes around for me to consume at my leisure. I convinced my girlfriend that this was essential while we were grocery shopping (in spite of her hatred of milk) and basically brainwashed her into selecting a variety of cereals for herself (because we are adults).

While I prefer Pops and virtually any form of Cheerios, she tends to like the kid cereals, like Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Cookie Crisp (aka dog biscuits in milk). One of these boxes boasted that it came with a prize, and thus, a game began.

I was upstairs brushing my teeth one day, only to hear her crunching in the hallway. I looked out to see her eating a bowl of cereal, and then nearly spit out my toothpaste as I viewed what was on the banister.

This troll. 

From the cereal box. 

Watching me. 

So of course it became a game. Since late September, we have been trolling each other, so to speak, by hiding this little thing all over the house. One day, I was at work. I opened up my lunch, which Shelley had woken up early to pack for me (I am, unfortunately, chronically late).

I had to document the evidence to
our friends. 

Lunchtime rolls around. I open up my bag. A napkin. Useful. A note. Sweet. And there, on top of the food which was so lovingly packaged, was a tuft of orange hair.

It didn't stop there. This thing has hidden in cleaning supplies, under glasses, and in waiting in her shirt in a closet (the troll waited in there for a long, long time-- probably should've picked a different shirt). 

One night, I was sitting in night class after having recently shared the Troll Saga with my friend Liz. This class was the dullest, longest, most ridiculous excuse for a special education class ever (due in large part to the instructor), and as I sat in the midst of this four-hour lecture of boredom, I decided to pull out my planner and focus on more important things, like news articles, homework for my other classes, lesson plans, a to do list (dropping old clothes off at the Salvation Army dropbox was vying more for my attention than this instructor). I unzip my bag. 

I reach for my planner. 

There, sticking out of the aqua blue cover, was a tuft of orange. The troll. Hiding, so inappropriately timed, in my planner, probably shoved there by Shells right as I was about to leave the house. I lost it-- laughing out loud, having to awkwardly explain the troll and how its placement in my planner during class was akin to Jerry Seinfeld placing the PEZ dispenser on Elaine's leg at a concert-- that kind of laugh. 

Months later, we are still at it...