A gigantic buck-toothed troll snatched Henry and I as we were finishing the day’s harvest. He dragged us to a campfire deep in the Mingbat forest, where his friend, a hairy bastard, tied our backs to wooden planks.
While coating me with spices, the hairy troll furrowed his brow and began yelling at the other, pointing to the clusters of red blemishes on my forehead and shoulders. They argued for a few minutes before the buck-toothed one untied me, and then lifted Henry horizontally over the fire to roast.
I ran straight home, thanking the gods that trolls hate acne.
Author’s Note: Some people are so used to their food being visually “perfect” that they won’t buy fruit and vegetables with blemishes. I thought it’d be fun if trolls were just as picky.