The Blood I Spill for You

Here's a Fifty, Buy Yourself a Birthday Present

     Dirk had to be the worst driver that Dave had ever seen. His pick-up truck's weak suspension tossed the groceries in the back around, likely breaking all the eggs, as he almost ran over a mother and her kid. They jumped out of the way when he slammed a palm on the horn. After circling the dense parking lot like vultures, Dirk drove onto the grass next to the door of the autumn troll market.

  "Well, here we are."

Dave looked out the window, unmoving. The very noise of all the trolls and humans packed into one place wrinkled his nose; he couldn't imagine the smell. The large signs plastered around the entrance shouted promises of trolls at the youngest legal age that they can be sold for (12 years old) in Texas. Another promised strong abilities: inhuman strength, angelic speed, specialized telekinesis, and more! Dave shuddered at the poster of a young trolls girl on a leash, happily bouncing after her master on hands and knees. He screwed his eyes shut, swallowing nothing.

  "Dave, get out of the car."

He looked up at his brother, who had opened the door for him already. His fingertips brushed against the metal click of his seatbelt.

Dirk sighed. "Come on. It'll be fun. Just give it a chance, Davey. For me?" He could only imagine the sad, anime behind his infamous, pointed shades.

  "Fine." The leather edge of the seat scraped the backs of his thighs as he found his footing on the washed, yellow parking line. "But I'm not getting one." Dave could feel the icy glare creep up his back. He didn't turn to face it.

Dave resisted the urge to cover his ears, which were being assaulted by laughing, arguing, yelling and metal rattling. The noise was impressive, but the sight squeezed the air out of his chest: rows and rows of chaos barfly organized by bright colours. The bloods of the trolls determined which ability could be inherented, and it could predict temperaments and personalities as well. He avoided the blues and aquatic trolls section, prone to anger and crazy strength. He could get a green-blood, which were typically trained to do housework and domestics. Not that he wanted a troll rummaging through his junk. Though he admits, it would be better than getting a warm-blood. Their telekinesis and more docile nature towards other colours of trolls made them suitable for many things, including pet ownership. The words churned in Dave's stomach.

  "Yo, lil' man." Dirk grabbed his shoulder. Dave glanced up, washing his thoughts off his face with practised ease, but his shoulders remained tense. "You gonna pick a troll or what?"

  "You know how I feel about that shit, bro," Dave mumbled. He jerked his wrist away with more force than necessary, slipping away into the crowd of eager wallets. He steered away from the traffic, working his way through the yellow section. Perhaps he was being dramatic. After all, John and Rose had trolls of their own, both very happy and looked after. Maybe having a friend like that wouldn't be so bad?

He watched two yellows, hands almost touching, trying to see who had the stronger psionic power. A small crowd watched the older troll yield as his fingers bent back uncomfortably. Dave heard a whimper to his right, an orange almost gagging on the finger in his mouth, checking his dull but fanged teeth. Cages stacked on top of each other, making him wonder how the trolls on top are put back in. Two trainers with the remotes to electric collars, more for show that use, removed the simple shirts off a young girl to inspect her back. Troll girl. He glanced away. No matter where he stood, it was chaos.