The old troll put his meaty paws on his wide hips and cocked his hairy, ugly head. He couldn’t believe what he just heard. In fact, he needed to hear it again.
“I won’t be answering any of your riddles today,” the Princess repeated. “Sorry.”
The troll sighed. Long ago he would’ve made quick work of this arrogant trespasser, snatching her up and turning her into a midday feast.
Not anymore.
Now his eyesight stinks and his back hurts. Heck, he even has a tough time getting angry.
‘Fine’ was all he could mutter before disappearing back under his bridge.
The Weekday One Hundred 