A Personal Encounter
Trollier Than Thou:
Becoming More Authentic
By
Michael Courtney Woodard
Strange Bathroom Fellows
Kyle scurries into the men’s room. There are two stalls in there with four total urinals. Two on the left and two on the right flanking the stalls.
Kyle looks around and is relieved that no one else is in there at the moment. “Thank God!” Kyle lets out a his breath slowly. ’I’m alone for now.”
Kyle goes into the left stall and close the door. Let’s respect his privacy, shall we?
Kyle’s voice is muffled thru the closed door. “Oh, great. No toilet paper!”
Someone opens the men’s room door and walks in. Kyle can hear the steps. “Hey, Sam! Speaking of revenge, Montezuma’s Revenge!”
ZZZZip!
“Not funny, Danny! It was a joke! I need some TP stat!” Kyle pleads.
“You can call me TG! Don’t mess with me, Kyle!” says a familiar voice.
“Herman!?!?!’ the dismay in his voice is palpable. “What? What are you…..?”
“I am Troll Girl!” replies TG.
“I mean ’what are you doing in herea?’Flush. “I thought you didn’t like that name!”
“It’s my species, not just my gender marker!” TG says. “Like calling a dog a k9! And isn’t it a guy rule not to ask another guy what he’s doing in the Joihn/”
“Okay, Okay. I am sorry I doubted you!” Kyle stands.
’Stay in there!” Herman rebukes him. “Wait until I’m done! When i go to the sink come out! Or I will so Stewart you!”
’Who is Stewart?” Kyle was struggling to maintain his composure.
“Ask Sam about it!” Herman is annoyed. ZZZip!
“Show some mercy, Herman! Toss some TP in here!” Kyle pleads.
“Oh whatever” Herman goes into the right side stall and grabs a couple rolls which he tosses them underhanded below the stall wall like a softball one after the other side. .
The Person Who Couldn’t Decide
if She Were A Troll or a Girl
Pre‑Op Setup: TG’s Changing Bay
Kyle and Shirley sat in the hallway outside the pre‑op bay, separated from TG by nothing but a thin curtain and the sound of her running commentary.
TG: “Ugh, this gown is PAPER. PAPER! I feel like a kindergarten art project!”
Shirley: “Just put it on!”
TG: “I am putting it on! I’m also taking off seventeen layers of my identity! Respect the process!”
Kyle “Why do you even want to be a troll?”
There was a clatter. Then another. Then something that sounded like a toolbox hitting the floor.
Herman: “Trolls are hella masculine! Big, strong, smelly! They don’t have to care about being dainty or feminine or polite!”
“Well, is that why you want a masectomy?” Shirley inquired.
TG put her hands to her chest briefly and frowned down at them but that was it. “I saw two different movies with trolls in them back to back and slept in the theatres to rewatch the troll scenes again and again and again!”
Kyle “What movies?”
Kyle winced. “How much stuff did she bring?”
Shirley: “Enough to open a Spirit Halloween.”
TG: “DON’T COME IN! I’m not decent! Also I’m not indecent! I’m in a quantum state of dress!”
Lyndsay; “Fellowship and Sorcerer’s Stone! I watched them endlessly on DVD and Bluray.”
Kyle looks in her direction oddly. “Bluray? Don’t you mean HD-DVD?”
Lynday ignores him. ’I have the EEs of all the Peter Jackson Middle Earth movies! But really, I only watched consistently was Battle in the Chamber of Mazarbul! Which is Scene 26 on theatrical and 28 on EE”
Shirley “EE?”
Lyndsay and Kyle say it at the same time; “Extended Editions! ”
More clattering. Something metallic rolled.
TG: “WHO PUT MY PACKER IN THE SAME BAG AS MY TROLL TEETH? That’s cross‑contamination of species!”
Kyle covered his face. “I didn’t need to hear that.”
Shirley: “She means the dentures, Kyle. The big plastic ones she uses for cosplay.”
TG: “THEY ARE NOT PLASTIC! They are RESIN! HAND‑PAINTED! WITH LOVE!”
A thump. A grunt. A muffled “ow.”
TG: “Okay. I’m ready. Enter my lair.”
Kyle and Shirley stepped through the curtain—
—and froze.
The prep bay looked like someone had shaken out the contents of a chaotic fantasy‑themed duffel bag and let gravity sort it out.
On the counter:
A bright pink “Troll Girl Rulz” shirt folded like a battle flag
Her long black frock coat, draped dramatically over a biohazard bin
A silicone stand‑to‑pee funnel, neon green, proudly labeled “GO‑GIRL‑BUT‑BETTER” in Sharpie
Her resin troll dentures, grinning up at them from a kidney dish
A wig head wearing her Herman wig at a crooked angle
A belt pouch full of tiny paintbrushes, dice, and a single googly eye
A laminated card reading: “OFFICIAL TROLL GIRL SPECIES IDENTIFICATION — DO NOT MISGENDER”
Shirley blinked. “It looks like TSA confiscated a Renaissance Faire.”
Kyle whispered, “Why does she have a urinal thing?”
TG (from behind the curtain): “BECAUSE TROLLS DO NOT SIT TO PEE, KYLE!”
Shirley: “Why is the wig staring at me?”
TG: “BECAUSE IT KNOWS YOUR SINS!”
Kyle: “Why is the frock coat on the biohazard bin?”
TG: “BECAUSE IT IS DRAMATIC!”
A nurse walked by, glanced in, and kept walking without a word — the universal sign of a medical professional deciding not to get involved.
Shirley softened. “TG… you okay in there? You sound like you’re fighting more than the gown.”
TG “I was a runaway at the age of 12. I came to the church at some point after being on the streets for a bunch of years because I wanted to turn my life around.
TG: “Owing to my age, I didn’t turn tricks. I managed to find a chastity belt to enforce this boundary which I modified to allow me to piss or poo while wearing it.
Shirley: ”I thought it was just your leather thong!
Kyle: “Now you know and knowing is half the battle.
TG “Anyway, I threw out the keys and forgot the combination. I didn’t think I needed to ever have intercourse with a male! But the Lyndsay in me wants to have children with Kyle while the Herman in me wants to squash him into a smear then extract the biological material afterward…
Kyle: Well that’s vivid.
Shirley sighed. “Okay. She’s prepped.”
Kyle: “Are we sure?”
TG: “YES! And if anyone calls me the wrong name again, I’m suing the entire hospital!”
Shirley whispered, “She’s ready.”
Kyle whispered back, “The hospital isn’t.”
