by David Lewman
But Gristle didn’t let Branch’s feet go. Branch felt like a piece of dough stretched out before being twisted into a cinnamon roll. “AAAAGH!” he cried.
“LET GO, YOU MEAN OLD WING-DINGLE!” Gristle shouted.
But instead of letting go, the wing-dingle tried to peck at the king’s face with its enormous beak. Gristle ducked, keeping his head just out of the bird’s reach. “STOP IT!” he yelled. “I DON’T LIKE THAT!”
CA-CAAAW! the wing-dingle screeched. Gristle longed to cover his ears, but he didn’t dare let go of Branch’s feet.
“I wish I had something to shoo it away with!” Gristle yelled. “Even a stick would be good, but I don’t see any up here! Maybe a rock…”
“Your crown!” Branch shouted.
“Crownie? Brilliant idea!” Gristle said. He quickly switched both of Branch’s feet to his left hand, snatched off his crown with his right, and swung the crown at the wing-dingle. SMACK!
“Ooh! I bopped it!” cried Gristle.
SKWAAAAA! the wing-dingle shrieked. It shook Branch from its talons and flew away! Gristle collapsed to the ground, still holding Branch. They were breathing hard.
“There,” Branch gasped. “You saved me. Now we’re even!”
Gristle put his crown back on and grinned. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Even. Now let’s get out of here before the wing-dingle comes back.”
“I’ve got an idea for how to get down the mountain quickly,” Branch said, looking at the steep expanse that lay below them. “Follow my lead!”
Branch took off his backpack and tossed it on an icy patch of smooth rock. Then he jumped onto his backpack and started snowboarding down Mount Gloom!
“Come on, let’s go!” he called over his shoulder as he sped down the snowy peak.
“I don’t know…,” Gristle said, hesitating.
CA-CAAAW!
Hearing the screech of the returning wing-dingle, Gristle peeled off his backpack, tossed it down, leapt onto it, and sped down the mountain after Branch. “WHOOO-HOOOO!” he cried.
Lucky for Branch and Gristle, it was still snowy in the Forest of Fetid Ferns, so they didn’t have to suffer through the horrible stench. Even better, they were able to ride their backpacks all the way through the frosty woods.
When they reached the desert, Branch didn’t hesitate to let Gristle scoop him up and put him on his shoulder. Gristle ran through the barren country to the woods, where Branch used his hair to swoop through the trees. Before they knew it, they were right outside Troll Village.
And just in time.
The Bergens and the Trolls had already gathered in a beautiful clearing for the big picnic. Bergen stonemasons had built massive new ovens to cook the pizzas in. Woodsmen had found the perfect timber and stacked it in the ovens according to Chef’s recipe. Under Captain Starfunkle’s direction, cooks had mixed all the ingredients for the pizza in huge bowls.
All the ingredients, that is, except the speckled savory salt.
Captain Starfunkle was tapping his foot impatiently. “Where are they?” he asked. “We need that salt to finish the dough!”
One of the Bergen cooks pointed to the woods. “There!”
Gristle and Branch ran up, breathing hard and pulling off their backpacks. “We got it!” Gristle gasped. “We got the salt!”
“Oh, thank goodness!” Captain Starfunkle cried, taking the backpacks and handing them to his cooks. “Did the wing-dingle give you any trouble?”
Gristle and Branch looked at each other and grinned. “Nah,” they said at the same time.
The cooks measured the salt, carefully following Chef’s super-secret recipe. Then they mixed it into the dough, rolled the dough into balls, tossed the balls into the air to shape the crusts, placed the crusts on cooking stones, slathered on sauce and cheese, and popped the pizzas into the huge ovens.
“The pizzas are in the ovens!” Captain Starfunkle announced. All the Bergens within earshot cheered, “HOORAY FOR PIZZA!”
At the Troll Village bakery, Biggie was running around frantically, directing the final loading and delivery of all the sweet baked goods. “There!” he said, sending Cooper off with a basket full of cupcakes. “That’s the last of them!”
Smidge noticed a large bag in the corner. “What’s in there?” she asked.
Biggie hurried over and peered into the bag. “Oh, no!” he cried. “These are the toppings for the big cookies I made! And those cookies have already gone to the picnic!” The big blue Troll was about to burst into tears.
“Don’t worry, Biggie!” Guy Diamond said in his shimmery electronic voice. “We’ll put these toppings on your cookies for you!”
“Yeah!” DJ Suki chimed in. “No problem!”
“Thanks, guys!” Biggie said, rushing out. “I’ll see you at the picnic!”
“See you there!” DJ Suki said, waving. She turned to Guy Diamond and Smidge. “Okay, it’s a pretty heavy bag, but I think if we all lift it together, we should be able to—”
But Smidge was already lifting the heavy bag by herself with her super-strong blue hair. “Got it,” she said calmly, heading out the door. DJ Suki and Guy Diamond looked at each other, shrugged, and followed her out.
When they got to the picnic, they looked for Biggie’s giant cookies. It was a busy scene. Trolls and Bergens rushed around carrying pastries, savory foods, drinks, and blankets.
“Where are the big cookies?” Guy Diamond asked.
“I don’t know,” DJ Suki said. “Can you two handle this? I’ve got to get the music started!”
“Sure!” Smidge said. “Go ahead and drop that beat!”
“Thanks,” DJ Suki said, hurrying off to her Wooferbug.
Just then, a Bergen cook pointed to a batch of pizzas fresh from the stone ovens.
“These still need toppings,” he told another cook.
“Got it,” the other cook said.
“Did you hear that?” Guy Diamond asked Smidge.
“Yeah!” Smidge said. “Toppings! Those must be Biggie’s big cookies! Come on!”
Over at the picnic site, everyone had finished spreading out blankets, and DJ Suki had started playing happy, bouncy music—perfect to picnic by.
“Hello, everyone!” Queen Poppy announced. “Welcome to the first-ever picnic for Bergens and Trolls…together!”
Everyone cheered. The Bergens were looking forward to tasting the famous pizza, and the Trolls were excited about all the pastries from Biggie’s bakery. But the two groups weren’t sure about each other’s picnic offerings.
“See any hairs in their food?” one Bergen whispered to another.
“What are those?” one Troll whispered. “Marinated turnips? Who would eat THOSE?”
A line of Bergen chefs marched in, carrying steaming-hot pizzas. A murmur of appreciation rose from the crowd of Bergens. The chefs set the pizzas down for all to admire.
“What’s on those pizzas?” Branch asked quietly. “Are those…sprinkles?”
“Sprinkles?” Gristle hissed. “Pizzas aren’t supposed to have sprinkles on them! Sprinkles are sweet, not savory!”
“Those are definitely sprinkles,” Poppy whispered.
Sure enough, Guy Diamond and Smidge had mistakenly covered the pizzas with sweet sprinkles and toppings, thinking they were Biggie’s big cookies.
“Oh, no,” Gristle moaned. “This is terrible!”
“What’s the matter?” Bridget asked him.
“Oh, nothing much,” he answered miserably. “Just that we’re about to see protests, riots, looting, and the end of my reign as king of the Bergens!” He touched his gold crown. “Oh, Crownie, I’ll miss you!”
Branch jumped to his feet. “Maybe we can stop them from serving those pizzas!”
But it was too late. The hungry Bergens were already crowding around the pizzas, eagerly grabbing slices and putting them on their plates. Actually, most of them didn’t bother putting the slices on their plates. They bit straight into the pizza, burned the roofs of
their mouths a little, chewed, swallowed, and said…
“DELICIOUS!”
The Bergens LOVED the sweet and savory pizza! And so did the Trolls! The combination turned out to be unbeatable!
The picnic was a huge success, thanks to the efforts of Branch, Gristle, and all the Bergens and Trolls who had worked so hard to make it happen. Every bit of the food was happily devoured—even the marinated turnips! And more than one Bergen found out that a little sweetness really made the savory tidbits even better.
King Gristle was thrilled. “We should definitely do this again next year!” he said later as they all watched beautiful fireworks lighting up the starry sky. “Or next month!”
“Definitely!” Poppy agreed. “From now on, the Troll-Bergen Picnic Fest-ganza-palooza will be a regular event!”
The others looked at her doubtfully.
“We’ll keep working on the name,” Branch promised.
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