pinch me

despite their dysfunction
i find the tick and the hound
enjoy a good scratch
 
TROLL (leaving as quietly as he came ... his campfire extinguishing itself and the wind [shifting the desert sands across his fickle spoor] will soon erase all evidence of his having trespassed on IPP. as he lumbers outside the light of his final camp, the night closes behind him like an oaken door being shut ... forever. a meteor is seen briefly falling through the purpled sky .... a cricket chirrups and .... tomorrow it will rain.)
-------
hurry back, we've missed you TROLL. (and maybe, just maybe, it will snow)