Paranormal Investigations: No Situation Too Strange Read Online Free

and, throwing the phone down, I hid my head in a pillow as hot, angry tears erupted from my eyes.  A while later I heard the door open and a clip-clopping sound approach.  A hand awkwardly patted my head and the goat man said, "There, there."
    *
    When my eyes were less puffy and bloodshot, I ventured out on my errands for the goat man.  Budgens was my first stop.  They had an array of different salts so I picked up a variety just to be safe.  There was no reason to think vanilla infused pink Himalayan salt would be more effective than cheap old table salt, but I wasn’t going to take the risk and bought every variety I could find.  My next mission was to find a troll and bribe him to protect the goat man.  With my green plastic bag full of salt in boxes, bags and mills I walked the short distance to Oak Hill Park. 
    Jez's phone call had shaken me and it had taken some effort to dry my tears and regain my composure.  I had a job to do and could not afford to let my emotions run riot over me.  I had a troll to find.
    "Where exactly," I asked the goat man without quite managing to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, "am I supposed to find a troll ?"
    He shook his head slightly - I noticed he did this every time he thought I asked a stupid question.  "Under a bridge of course."
    "Ah yes, of course.  Under a bridge."
    "All bridges have a troll under them."
    "Ah, I wonder why it is I have never seen one then - ever ?"
    "Well it has to be a proper bridge, one over water."
    "Yep, I've seen a few of those in my time - knew a few intimately as a teenager and you know what - they appeared to be one hundred per cent troll free."
    "Did you ask?"
    "What?"
    "Did you ask for them?  Did you ask them to come out and show themselves?"
    "No, I must admit I didn't ask a fictional creature to come out and show itself."
    "Well there you are then." he said with a shrug, "You should've asked."
    "So I just go to a bridge over water and ask a troll to show himself?  Then said troll will agree to be your bodyguard?"
    "He might not, he might have something on.  Trolls are a tricky bunch, you have to be careful how you deal with them.  They're very proud and very vicious.  We'll probably have to pay him."
    " We ?  I don't know if you're aware of this, but people normally pay me when I help them."
    "Not money - only humans have a use that .  We deal in real things, not imaginary.  He'll want something tasty."
    My eyebrows rose in question so he continued:
    "Trolls live under bridges, they eat whatever the water brings them.  If you want a troll to do your bidding you only have to offer them something nice to eat.  They just can't bear to refuse."
    At the door to my flat, as I left to buy the salt and attempt to procure a troll, I turned to the goat man and asked:
    "Look - what do I call you?  What's your name?"
    He blinked.  "You called me Bob."
    "I know I called you Bob when I was on the phone but I didn't know your real name - what is it?"
    "Bob."
    "No, your real name."
    "It is Bob.  My kind, we don't have a name until someone gives us one.  You were the first person to give me a name."
    "Oh."
    My insides scrunched up.  That was so sad, not to have anyone care enough to give you a name.  I left before I could embarrass myself with more tears.  What did I care if this strange creature had never been given a name before?
    *
    Through Chipping Barnet and East Barnet there runs a small stream called the Pymmes Brook, there is even a walk you can do if you fancy strolling along a long stretch of stagnant water and dodging rusty supermarket trolleys.  The brook actually ran underneath my flat building, peeping out from its underground route by the car park before flowing under the road and then reappearing in the park.
    Because of the Pymmes Brook there were three bridges in Oak Hill Park.  I was going to follow Bob's instructions and see if I could get either a troll bodyguard or, failing that, some proof of my dwindling sanity.