Once upon a time there were three billy goats, who were to go up to the hillside to make themselves fat, and the name of all three was “Gruff.”
On the way up was a bridge over a cascading stream they had to cross; and under the bridge lived a great ugly troll , with eyes as big as saucers, a nose as long as a poker, and its fingertips caked in neon orange powdered cheese.
So first of all came the youngest Billy Goat Gruff to cross the bridge.
“Trip, trap, trip, trap! ” went the bridge.
“Who’s that tripping over my bridge?” roared the troll .
“Oh, it is only I, the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff , and I’m going up to the hillside to make myself fat,” said the billy goat, with such a small voice.
“Billy goats are teh ghey!” said the troll.
“Oh, no! Pray don’t flame me. I’m too little and insignificant, that I am,” said the billy goat. “Wait a bit till the second Billy Goat Gruff comes. He’s much bigger and flaming him will get you much more attention.”
“Well, be off with you,” said the troll, “Stoopid n00b.”
A little while after came the second Billy Goat Gruff to cross the bridge.
Trip, trap, trip, trap, trip, trap, went the bridge.
“Who’s that tripping over my bridge?” roared the troll.
“Oh, it’s the second Billy Goat Gruff , and I’m going up to the hillside to make myself fat,” said the billy goat, who hadn’t such a small voice.
“You sound like a retard,” said the troll.
“Oh, no! Don’t flame me. Wait a little ’till the big Billy Goat Gruff comes. He’s much bigger and flaming him will get you much more attention.”
“Very well! Be off with you,” said the troll, “Me l33t.”
But just then up came the big Billy Goat Gruff .
Trip, trap, trip, trap, trip, trap! went the bridge, for the billy goat was so heavy that the bridge creaked and groaned under him.
“Is that that big Billy Goat Gruff?” roared the troll. “If I were a fat stoopid goat like you, I’d blow my brains out.”
But it wasn’t actually a Billy Goat Gruff and instead a member of the Russian mafia who was so enraged he hunted down and caught the troll and gutted him which took a very long time since the troll was morbidly obese.
And everyone lived happily ever after.
THE END
An allegory for non-belivers/non-liberals trying to get back their government, hindered by a MSM/WH/Soros/etc hydra, eventually defeated by Sarahcuda? Hmmmm. Otta tell Carl’s Jr about this.
Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about! Super awesome funny with guttin, teh gehs and retards! It doesn’t get any better!
And the moral of the story??
Dont eff with de russky mobsky?
Dont live under a bridge??
What ? I dont get it???
Yeah, but with no head stuffin’, ussjc.
A morbidly obese troll… My first thought was Michael Moore. But then I got to thinking about “fingertips caked in neon orange powdered cheese.” You’ve used that before. Hmmm. I need more clues because, apparently, I’m clueless.
RON PAUL.
Clever.
I anxiously await your retelling of Tikkitikkitembonosarembocharibariruchipipperipembo who fell into the well and almost drowned because his pang(?) brother took so long to tell the village people because of his great long name that all Japanese thereafter decided to name their children small short names. Yes its a real story and its Hilarius.
http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/tikki.html
http://www.amazon.com/Tikki-Tembo-Arlene-Mosel/dp/0805006621
Its a great story for modern people with hyphenated names and identities.
so the moral of the story is…
…
…
don’t eat….no…
don’t cross bridges that….no….
don’t piss of your friends or they’ll develop telekenetic powers and destroy Tokyo? No..that’s Akira…
…
goats = teh suck and will throw each other under the bus at the first sign of trouble?
that’s the best I can come up with.
The real moral of the story is: Cheetos leave nasty residue.
This tale was…uh…teh disturbing.
My initial “take” was too scary to contemplate, so I summarily rejected it. Three politicos, heading to the Hill/Capital, to get fat at the public trough. An ogre testing/keeping them at bay (the limited voice of the right). So far, so good. The ogre/troll, in this case good guy, being gutted by ???????
Truly inspired, Frank. It’s way better than the version in the Politically Correct Bedtime Stories.
Hmm, that makes me think. Somebody (Frank) ought to write a Conservatively Correct Bedtime Stories book.
Did the troll ululate before he died?
I love the Billy Goats Gruff!! That was seriously my FAVE STORY when I was about 4 years old! And your version is just a sweet and poignant as I remembered; it helped me to recapture a moment of childhood innocence that I assumed long last. Thanks for sharing. I will have sweet dreams tonight of Billy Goats, rickety bridges, and lard-ass idiot trolls getting pwnded by the Russian mafia.
Having read so much toxic giberjab on another blog of serial trolls, I found this story perfectly delightful and I chuckled to myself – and may the same fate meet each and every troll along the way !
best. post. ever.
Simple.
The troll is the joos.
The Russian mafia is mooslims.
The other two biilly goats are America and Christianity.
Say goodbye to freedom, liberty, and independence, it’s already been pissed away.
#15 – Eric,
“The troll is the joos.” (sigh)
I wish you hadn’t gone there.
But to follow your analysis, if the little billy goat is America and the middle sized billy goat is Christianity, then the Big Billy Goat Gruff must be God – and God hasn’t crossed the bridge yet.
And the story’s not over until He says it is.
The troll is obviously Andrew Sullivan in Frank’s world you sillies! The Billy Goat Gruff’s are Republicans selling each other out! The big Billie Goat Gruff is Michael Steele. The Russian Mafia is Sarah Palin.