Goat Pie Read Online Free

truthfully.
    â€˜NONE?’ roared Grumpa.
    â€˜Not yet, Grumpa.’ (Mr Troll hid his face in his hands.)
    â€˜Know how many goatses I’d baggsed when I was your age?’ asked Grumpa.
    Ulrik shook his head.
    â€˜Sixteen,’ said Grumpa. ‘Six-teen.’
    â€˜Uggsome!’ said Ulrik.
    â€˜And I dragged them home by myselves, miles through that forest and up to Troll Mountain. The snow was so cold …’
    â€˜â€¦ it froze your toeses,’ completed Mr Trollwearily. ‘We know. You’ve told us before, Dad.’
    â€˜Well, and what is Ulrik learning here?’ demanded Grumpa. ‘In a place with no mountains and a cave that’s hardly got any stink?’
    â€˜I’ve learned lots at school, Grumpa,’ said Ulrik.
    â€˜School? Bah!’ scoffed Grumpa. ‘I never went to school.’
    â€˜I like school,’ said Ulrik. ‘Shall I say you my seven times table?’
    â€˜What’s the good of tables?’ demanded Grumpa. ‘Are they teaching you how to roar?’
    â€˜Dad gives me roaring lessons at home,’ said Ulrik.
    â€˜Show Grumpa,’ urged Mr Troll. ‘Go on, Ulrik. Show him how you roar.’
    Ulrik hesitated. He never did his best roars when he had an audience. Somehow it made him nervous and his throat dried up. However, his mum and dad were nodding at him eagerly and Grumpa was waiting. Ulrik clenched his fists and tromped up and down a few times, stamping his feet to gather himself. Taking a deep breath and pushing out his chest, he roared. ‘Graaaaargh!’
    His parents clapped. ‘Lovely, Ulrik!’ said Mrs Troll.
    â€˜Pretty scaresome, eh?’ said Mr Troll.
    Grumpa just scowled and folded his arms. ‘Humph!’ he said.
    Later Ulrik lay in his parents’ bed, trying to get to sleep. From across the landing he could hear the rumble of Grumpa’s snores. Heavy footsteps came up the stairs. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. The door creaked open.
    â€˜Look at him. Sleeping like a lambkins,’ said Mrs Troll fondly.
    â€˜Too much like a lambkins if you ask me,’ grumbled his dad’s voice.
    â€˜Shhh!’ said Mrs Troll. ‘He’ll hear you!’
    Mr Troll peeled off his vest and threw it on the floor. He lowered his voice. ‘Maybe Grumpa’s right, it’s our fault. Ulrik should be out tromping the forest with trolls of his own age.’
    â€˜He likes going to school. He’s made friends,’ said Mrs Troll. She sat down on the edge of the bed, which sagged to one side.
    â€˜I know,’ said Mr Troll. ‘But he just isn’t … trollish.’
    â€˜His roar’s improving,’ said Mrs Troll.
    â€˜You heard him tonight. Feeble as a frog-hopper!’ said Mr Troll, climbing into the bed. Ulrik heard the springs beneath him groan in protest.
    â€˜Stop worrying!’ sighed Mrs Troll. ‘Ulrik will be fine.’ Mr Troll grunted and rolled over. Before long both of them were snoring.
    Ulrik lay awake, squashed between his parents in the hollow of the mattress, thinking over what he’d just heard. He tried hard to be more trollish, but somehow he always seemed to get it wrong. It was true he couldn’t roar like his dad and he didn’t have a temper like his grumpa. If only he could do something to prove his trollishness to his parents. If only he could bags a goat and bring it home for supper!

Meet the Neighbours
    The next morning Ulrik sat at the breakfast table, helping himself to Coco Pops out of the packet. He had set out all the bowls ready and made sure that none of them were clean. His mum was busy in the kitchen while his dad didn’t seem to be up. Grumpa came downstairs, already dressed in his goatskin coat.
    â€˜Hello, Grumpa! Did you sleep well?’ Ulrik asked. ‘You were snoring.’
    â€˜Humph!’ replied Grumpa. ‘Where’s your hat?’
    â€˜It’s