BooksBarbecue
Back Trollhunters Save as PDF
Chapters (51)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Prologue
  7. Part I
  8. 1.
  9. 2.
  10. 3.
  11. 4.
  12. 5.
  13. 6.
  14. 7.
  15. 8.
  16. 9.
  17. 10.
  18. Part II
  19. 11.
  20. 12.
  21. 13.
  22. 14.
  23. 15.
  24. 16.
  25. 17.
  26. 18.
  27. Part III
  28. 19.
  29. 20.
  30. 21.
  31. 22.
  32. 23.
  33. 24.
  34. 25.
  35. 26.
  36. 27.
  37. 28.
  38. 29.
  39. 30.
  40. 31.
  41. 32.
  42. Part IV
  43. 33.
  44. 34.
  45. 35.
  46. 36.
  47. 37.
  48. 38.
  49. 39.
  50. 40.
  51. About the Author

Getting through the door was the easy part. ARRRGH!!! popped her arms out of place and didn’t restore herself to full girth until we were inside the house. There was an optimistic moment during which we thought this was going to go well. It didn’t last. ARRRGH!!! began reaching for every knickknack in the living room with a delighted look on her face. An entire shelf of ceramic children plummeted to the floor. Tub started mumbling about glue, where was the glue?! A row of delicate wicker decorations was the next casualty, ripped to shreds by a single curious claw. Tub’s focus switched to the vacuum cleaner—somebody get the vacuum cleaner! When ARRRGH!!! started munching on a vase of plastic flowers, I gave her a push toward Tub’s bedroom. She got the message, but on her way punctured a vinyl sofa cover with a toenail.

I pointed at a spot on Tub’s carpet for ARRRGH!!! to sit.

She did so with a smile and set about tasting everything within reach.

“Game controllers!” Tub cried. “Not food! Bad troll! Bad troll! Wait, wait, no, don’t—don’t eat—those were my favorite shoes! You can’t—no, I need—oh, man, you gotta be kidding me! You know how much that hard drive cost?”

Tub bolted from the room without explanation. In the meantime I did my best to wrench Tub’s possessions from ARRRGH!!!’s paws before they were popped between her grinding teeth. Blinky was no help; he was enraptured by a shelf of sci-fi DVDs and enthusing about the historic importance of this library of human/alien contact. Jack, meanwhile, had yet to move from the front door. He regarded the homey family room as if it were a jungle concealing its predators.

Random objects began sailing through the open window. It was Tub, hurling junk he’d collected from his neighbors’ backyards: a bundle of chicken wire, a couple of jolly lawn gnomes, three upended flower pots, an entire bush ripped out by the roots and dripping dirt. Then he crawled over the sill and I pulled him in.

“Stuff for her to chew on,” he grunted. “This is worse than having a cat—”

He froze. I did, too.

A feline screeched.

We caught only a glimpse of calico tail before it vanished down ARRRGH!!!’s throat. Tub pressed the back of his hand against his forehead like a Victorian damsel.

“Cat #20! Jim! That was Cat #20! Sweet lord, Jim, she’s eating Grandma’s cats!”

ARRRGH!!! licked her lips and plucked up another cat as if it were a peanut.

“Cat #36! No! Not Cat #36!”

A short-lived yowl later, Cat #36 was history. Tub clutched his skull in despair. For reasons we couldn’t understand, the cats were drawn to the snack-happy troll and kept winding about her legs, stroking their whiskers against her stiff black fur.