Bag-rill Tog

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Just a quick look at the world of one particular Cellar Troll. And Cellar Trolls in general.

Submitted: February 26, 2018

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Submitted: February 26, 2018



Bag-rill Tog was a cellar-troll and to his good fortune he had found a cellar in a very fine house, indeed.

This cellar was warm and dry, which is hardly ever the case for cellar-trolls. They usually live in root-cellars where it is very damp and very dark.

A really damp cellar usually creates a smell from mold growing. And these smells lessen the likelihood that the house-dweller will come down there for very long. It is not the sort of place anyone wants to be confined in. Well, anyone except for cellar-trolls.

Anyway, Bag-rill Tog had slipped into the residence by way of an outside entrance to the cellar. And he wasted no time getting settled in. But Tog had no way of knowing that his new found hiding place was soon to be invaded.


Within a month, a family of humans moved into the residence above the cellar. There was the Mother, Father, two female children and one male.

Lucky for Tog, the Mother and the two female children wanted nothing to do with that creepy-dark cellar.

So the Father put the young male in charge of it and some rudimentary chores to be performed down there.

One afternoon he took the boy down to the cellar and said, "Look Son, I want you to sweep the floor and clean up down here, keep it ship-shape. --- OK?

I want the trash and garbage cans brought through that outer door and placed next to the wall. You know, inside, so critters don't get into them at night. Critters can make a heck of a mess by getting into the trash.

Every Tuesday morning is trash day so put them out by the road in the morning and bring them back in the afternoon. But mind you, the garbage-can must be washed and wiped clean after each dump. Otherwise, it might stink up the whole house.

Mother and sisters are going to start canning soon, and your Mother will need a reasonably clean place to store the jars. So clear those shelves and get them ready for all the goodies they're going to prepare. --- OK?"

Afterward all the explaining, the Father left the boy so he could get to work.

But as soon as the Father left the cellar, the boy got a shovel and started pocking around in all the dark corners and under the shelving.

"Owe!" Tog said when he was assaulted with the shovel.

"I thought I smelled a cellar-troll," the boy replied. You aren't the first one I've encountered! --- You Know?!?"

Tog laughed and said, "Well I might be the last one if you don't stop pocking me. I might decide to gobble you up!"

"You're not going to gobble me!" the boy replied. "It is common knowledge that cellar-trolls hate the taste of kids. And I'm a kid!"

"Where did you get that idea?" Tog inquired. "Cellar-trolls eat just about anything; well, maybe not Brussels-sprouts and Cumquats, but almost everything else. So why wouldn't I eat you?"

The boy replied, "I don't know, I'm not a troll!

I'm just telling you what other cellar-trolls have told me and they have all said the same thing, that they hate kid-meat. They said that it is way too sweet. It leaves them with a yucky taste in their mouths for weeks!"

"Really?" Tog inquired.

The boy laughed and said, "Sure, why would I lie about a stupid thing like that?"

Tog thought for a moment and said, "To get out of being eaten, that's why."

Before Tog could react the boy tossed the shovel in his direction and raced out the cellar door, leaving Tog standing there in disbelief.

"See," the boy said as he strolled back into the cellar, "You couldn't catch me even if you wanted too. So why would I lie?"


Cellar-trolls are not the brightest creatures on the evolutionary latter so Tog had to think for awhile about what the child had said.

As Tog thought very hard the boy continued by saying,

"You know, C. T., I think you may have a problem bigger than me pocking you with a shovel."

Tog looked puzzled as he asked, "What kind of problem?"

"Well, it looks to me like you have a pretty nice set-up down here," the boy replied.

"It is pretty warm and dry, and you have a door to go in and out anytime you want to. My guess would be at night when you go hunting for food.

But I'll bet my Dad would not like the fact that he has a troll living under the house. I'd bet that he would get his shotgun and shoot you. And even if he missed you would have to vacate your nice place to live, you'd be homeless."

Tog got an odd look on his dark wrinkled face and asked, "And how would your Dad know that I'm down here?"

The boy replied with a smirk, "Oh, I'd have to tell him 'cause it would be my duty as a loving and responsible son. --- Unless?!?"

Tog bowed his grotesquely large head and mumbled, "What is it that you want?"

"I'd like it very much if you swept the floor and cleaned the shelves, you know, get it ship-shape down here.

When I put a bag of trash at the top of the stairs you should come and get it, then put it in the trash can.

The trash can is this large one right here," The boy went to the large black can and lifted the lid to look inside.

"I know what a trash can is," Tog stated, all the while trying to control his anger. Then he asked, "Is that all?"

"No, there is one other thing. I don't want to wash the garbage can each week," the boy replied, "so I want you to eat the garbage before it goes into the can. In other words, that garbage can should be spotless all the time; even if you have to lick it clean.

And call me Sir, or Boss, or Mr. Affrin. No, make it Boss, I like that!"

"Is that all, ---Boss?"

Affrin thought for a moment and replied, "I think so, but I could think of something later. So be opened to suggestions."


With all the extra time Affrin had on his hands he had more time to do what he enjoys, making life miserable for others.

Some of his all-time favorites are pulling wings off of insects, tying cans on dog's and cat's tails, and he likes to set things on fire. Not big fires, small ones.

He sets bags of horse-poo doused in lighter fluid on fire and throws them on people’s porches. It can cause a great deal of damage, but he thinks that is hilarious!

Another of his favorites is dumping kerosene in water troth's and when a horse wandered over to the troth, he tosses a match in and scares the dickens out of the horse.

Mrs. Tracers Filly hasn't been right ever sense. The poor thing has to drink out of a bucket because she won't go near water troths now.


Affrin had it pretty good with the troll around. All his basement chores were being taken care of so he took on some leather cleaning jobs.

It seems that a troll's spit and tongue can shine a pair of work boot like nothing else. The local farmers, cowboys, and pig farmers, said that it was easily worth the five dollars Affrin charges.

And the boy was getting $10 to bring back the luster to leather jackets and $20 for saddles. Imagine an 11 year old pulling in about $50 a month. His Daddy was very proud!

Yes sir-ree, he was doing alright! Then the unexpected happened.


One Monday afternoon, Affrin went down to the cellar to see how the garbage situation was coming along.

To his aggravation he found a full garbage can sitting in the middle of the floor. The can's lid was off and there was worms crawling in the garbage and flies buzzing all around.

"What is this, Troll-boy?

I thought I told you to eat this garbage and to lick the can clean, if need be!"

Tog responded by saying, "You know, I went for a midnight stroll last week. And you know what I found?"

"No! What?" Affrin questioned sarcastically.

Tog smiled and replied, "A burned-out old mansion that just happens to have a large unburned wine-cellar.

The cellar is occupied by a lady troll, but she is more than willing to share with a handsome troll like me.

Oh, and I found out something else while I was talking to my lady. Would you like to know what that was?"

"Affrin spit on the floor and smugly said, "Sure, why not!"

"Well, --- she said that cellar-trolls do eat kids. But only the rotten ones!"

Sluuurp! --- Gulp! ----------- Buuurp! --- Ah!



P.S. --- To all those readers that might feel that this story has much too harsh an ending, and to all the children's advocates that might be reading this story, --- not to worry.

While it is true that cellar-trolls do gobble rotten children, they do not digest them; they are far too toxic.

D. Thurmond / JEF


© Copyright 2019 D. Thurmond, aka, JEF. All rights reserved.

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