The pretend troll holds out the rock in one hand and adjusts his mask with the other.
“Well…it’s turquoise and it’s…” You feel the queasiness you experienced with the stew returning, but now it’s about five times worse. “…and it’s making me sick! Get it away from me!”
You didn’t think you had anything left in you to throw up, but of course, bitter bile is another story. Your face involuntarily falls into that more rickety version of vomit running down your steering wheel and honks the car horn for a moment before you drift further down in your seat and out of consciousness.
“Button down,” the troll whispers into your ear, “or you just might drown.”
Go to page 67.
(Back to Index of Pages)