by David Lewman
As the friends hurried into the rolling green meadows, they heard singing in the distance.
“Is that…a choir?” Biggie asked.
“Sounds like it,” Poppy said. “And I think I can make out Satin’s and Chenille’s voices! But they sound hoarse.”
“Oh, sure,” Branch complained. “While we’re getting snowed on and chased by Freezyfluffs and tangled up in vines, they’re having choir practice!”
The friends hurried across the soft green grass. As they came over a low hill, they saw a circle of critters, singing. In the center of the circle were Satin, Chenille, and Fuzzbert!
“Guys!” Poppy called. “Over here! We found a road!”
The musical critters turned around and stared at the newcomers.
“Oooh,” the Critterchord said. “More Trolls!”
“Poppy!” Satin shouted. “Save us!”
The five Trolls and Cloud Guy reached the circle of critters.
“Do you sing?” the Critterchord asked.
Before the captured Trolls could warn her, Poppy cheerfully blurted, “Of course we do! All Trolls sing!”
A Tunebug pointed at Cloud Guy. “Are you a Troll?”
Cloud Guy looked taken aback. “No! I’m Cloud Guy. You can call me Cloud Guy.”
“Do you sing?” the Tunebug asked.
Cloud Guy looked a little smug. “Do I sing? You betcha! I’m just about the best singer you’ve ever heard! Here, I’ll prove it!” He started to sing a song about clouds. “Every time I see a cloud, I have got to sing out loud! They make me oh so very proud to be a part of the cloudy crowd….”
Cloud Guy had an amazing voice. But he was loud. Really loud.
In fact, he was so loud, several critters’ faces scrunched up. Others covered their ears with their feet. Some of them fell to the ground.
“Stop!” they cried. “STOP!”
But Cloud Guy kept singing. Branch saw a chance for their friends to escape from the critters’ choir.
“Come on!” he whispered to the Trolls. “Let’s get out of here!” He turned to Cloud Guy. “Keep singing!”
And he did. His song about clouds seemed to have about as many verses as there are clouds in the sky. On a very cloudy day.
As the critters writhed on the ground, tortured by Cloud Guy’s thundering vocals, the Trolls slipped away. Poppy took Cloud Guy by the hand.
“We’re leaving!” she said.
“But I haven’t finished my song!” he protested.
“You can keep singing,” Poppy said. “Just come with us. In fact, keep singing until we’re back on the Caterbus. It’ll keep us safe.”
“You mean entertained?” Cloud Guy asked.
“Yeah,” Poppy said hesitantly. “Entertained.”
As Cloud Guy continued to sing, he and the Trolls ran back to the Caterbus. They climbed on, greeting Guy Diamond and Mr. Dinkles, and persuaded Cloud Guy to stop singing and start driving. He headed for the road they’d spotted between the briar patch and the deep forest.
“I just hope it’s the right road,” Branch said.
The Caterbus barreled along, kicking up dust and gravel. The Trolls were eager to quickly put as much distance as possible between themselves and the three treacherous landscapes they’d just escaped. They’d had enough of Freezyfluffs, tangling vines, and singing critters.
“This is starting to look familiar,” Cloud Guy said as he steered the bus along the dusty road. He spotted something up ahead. “There! THE TUNNELS!”
Through the windshield, the Trolls sitting in front could see the underground tunnels that led to the old Troll Tree in Bergen Town. They cheered as Cloud Guy drove the Caterbus into one of them.
“Next stop, Bergen Town!” Cloud Guy said. “Unless I’ve got the wrong tunnel. In which case, CERTAIN DEATH…death…death…”
Biggie hugged Mr. Dinkles.
“I really wish he’d stop doing that echo thing,” Branch whispered to Poppy.
“Me too,” she whispered back.
But Cloud Guy had picked the right tunnel, and soon the Caterbus shot out of the middle of the Troll Tree, flying through the air toward the castle in Bergen Town!
One Bergen looked up and saw it. “What’s that?” he asked.
Another Bergen looked up. “Caterbus. From Troll Village. Looks like an express,” he said calmly. “Wanna play that game where we throw the die and move around the square?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
WHOMP! The Caterbus landed at the base of the stairs leading up to the castle’s front door. Cloud Guy opened the Caterbus door and the Trolls spilled out.
“Thanks, Cloud Guy!” Poppy said.
“Yeah, thanks a lot for letting go of the steering wheel so we plunged off a cliff and fell into a wormhole,” Branch said sarcastically.
“You’re welcome!” Cloud Guy said cheerfully, mistaking it for a compliment. “Anytime!” As he closed the door, Cloud Guy started singing again. “Every time I see a cloud…”
The Trolls covered their ears. The Caterbus roared off. VRRRROOOOM!
With Poppy leading the way, the Trolls quickly went into the castle and through the halls to the throne room. They were so much smaller than the Bergen guards that Todd and Chad didn’t even notice them pass by.
The Trolls huddled outside the throne room’s big doors, where Poppy reminded her friends of their roles for the presentation.
“Okay. Guy Diamond, you’re on glitter.”
“Glitter at the ready!” he said, saluting. “Let it shine!”
“Cooper,” Poppy said, “pyrotechnics.”
“Huh?” Cooper said. “I thought I was doing the fireworks.”
“Pyrotechnics are fireworks,” Branch explained.
“Oh,” Cooper said. “In that case, ready!” He gave a confident nod and a welding mask fell down over his face. He raised a gas torch, which was already lit and flaming.
“Satin, Chenille,” Poppy continued, “festive outfits.”
“On it!” the twins said at the same time. They’d already dressed Branch in a pair of baggy pants with suspenders. He didn’t look thrilled.
“Uh, Poppy, about these costumes…,” he began.
“Branch, we’ve been over this,” Poppy said firmly. “It’s not a holiday without costumes! So put on your big-boy pants and let’s get in there!”
“Yes, but—”
“Sorry, Branch, it’s showtime! Ready, everybody?” Poppy held up her fingers as she counted down. “In three…two…one…LET’S GO!”
BOOM! The Trolls burst into the throne room. A painting fell to the floor. CRASH!
“STOP EVERYTHING!” Poppy shouted.
Bridget looked up from her magazine, and Gristle stopped playing his keyboard. Under their thrones, Barnabus, their pet crocodile, stopped gnawing on a discarded slice of pizza. All three stared at Poppy, wondering what the emergency was.
“Huh?” King Gristle asked. “What’s going on?”
“Sorry,” Poppy said sheepishly. “I got a little carried away with the whole ‘Stop everything!’ thing.”
“Poppy!” Bridget squealed, delighted to see her friend.
“Bridget!” Poppy exclaimed.
The two friends greeted each other with hugs and elaborate handshakes and high fives, calling each other by the nicknames they’d made up together.
“Pop Star!”
“B-Bop!”
“Lollipop!”
“Roller Girl!”
“Glitter Bomb!”
“Morning Jogger!”
“Helicopter!”
“Prim and Proper!”
Branch and King Gristle greeted each other, too, but kept their greetings much more low-key. Nodding to each other, Gristle said, “ ’Sup,” and Branch replied, “ ’Sup.”
Poppy noticed that Bridget had new rainbow-colored extensions attached to her pigtails.
“Your hair looks amazing!” she told her friend.
“W
hy, thank you!” Bridget said. Then she leaned over and whispered, “It’s a weave.”
“I won’t say a word,” Poppy whispered back.
“It’s so good to see you, Poppy!” Bridget said at a normal volume. “Um, what are you doing here?”
Poppy took that as her cue to begin the presentation. “Funny you should ask,” she said. “Smidge, HIT THE LIGHTS!”
The room went dark. A single spotlight popped on. Cooper and Biggie set a pedestal on the floor in the spotlight, then put a box with ribbons around it on top of the pedestal. They pulled the ribbons and the box opened into a brightly colored, Troll-sized stage that looked like a calendar with lots of doors to open. It was like the stage back in Troll Village, complete with a tree and a shining sun. A banner with HOLIDAY on it hung at the top. Music played, and glitter shot through the air.
“Oooohh,” Gristle and Bridget said, impressed. They sat on their thrones, ready for a show. Beneath them, Barnabus snoozed, uninterested.
Poppy stepped onto the stage, having quickly changed into one of Satin and Chenille’s sparkly costumes.
“Lady and gentleman, we’ve traveled all the way from Troll Village to SOLVE YOUR PROBLEM!”
“We have a problem?” Bridget asked, puzzled.
Poppy kept going. “But don’t worry, because we have the solution. You guys need a new holiday!”
“Holiday?” Bridget repeated, still confused. “Why do we need a holiday?”
“How else are you gonna get and give presents and wear awesome costumes and play ‘How Many Marshmallows Can You Fit in Your Mouth?’ ” Poppy asked.
“Wundred and f-f-fventy-two,” Cooper managed to say with his mouth stuffed full of marshmallows. One white marshmallow popped out of his nose and fell onto the floor. “Wundred and fventy-one.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Gristle said. “Excuse me, but have you not been getting our cards?” The king felt that the cards from the Bergens proved they were celebrating lots of holidays.
Poppy and Branch shared an awkward look. They felt that Gristle and Bridget’s cards proved they definitely needed help with their holidays.
“Uh, yeah,” Branch said. “I especially loved the Wednesday one. You know, it really made me appreciate the middle of the week.”
“Ugh,” Gristle grunted, shaking his head. “Middle of the week.” He turned to Bridget. “Told ya, babe.”
“Look,” Poppy said, “we care about you guys, and we want to make sure you have something to celebrate. And here’s the great news: the Trolls have about a kajillion holidays, so you can have one of ours!”
Bridget looked doubtful. But she wanted to be polite to her friend. “That’s cool! I guess—”
That was all Poppy needed to hear. “Yeah, it is!” she shouted. “Let’s DO this!”
The little stage was bathed in colored lights. Loud music played. Satin, Chenille, Biggie, and Fuzzbert popped out of the doors on the stage and sang backup harmonies. “OOOOH-WAH! OOOOH-WAH!”
“The first holiday we’re presenting to you,” Poppy announced proudly, “is GLITTERPALOOZA!”
Guy Diamond blasted a cloud of glitter onto the stage. He jumped into the spotlight, his eyes twinkling.
“On Glitterpalooza, everyone throws Glitter Balls at each other! And everyone gets blasted with glitter!” he exclaimed.
The Trolls threw glitter balls at each other. A glitter cannon went off. BOOM!
Unfortunately, the glitter shot into Gristle’s face. He coughed and sputtered. “Aaaccchhh! There’s glitter in my eyes!”
As Bridget helped Gristle brush the glitter from his face, she said, “Maybe that holiday is not really cool for us, Poppy—”
But Poppy, seeing that Glitterpalooza wasn’t going over very well, cut her friend off. “Okay!” she said. “Well, if you don’t like Glitterpalooza, how about…”
“TICKLE DAY! Take it away, Biggie!”
The big blue Troll, carrying Mr. Dinkles, popped out of one of the doors in the set. Both wore brightly colored hats with long feathers in them.
“We spend all of Tickle Day giggling and laughing!” Biggie explained. “Because on Tickle Day, guess what happens?”
“You tickle each other with feathers?” Gristle guessed.
“Nope,” Biggie said. “On Tickle Day, we all get tickled by…SPIDERS!”
“Spiders?” Bridget gasped, scrunching up her face.
As the other Trolls acted out the scene with fake spiders on strings, Biggie explained how back in Troll Village, a huge furry spider floats down on a web string from a tree on Tickle Day.
“We tickle the big spider’s tummy,” he said, “and dozens of little spiders pour out of the big spider’s mouth, falling onto the Trolls, who are waiting eagerly below!”
“Eagerly?” Gristle said, hardly able to believe what he was hearing.
“Yeah. The little spiders crawl all over the Trolls’ bodies, tickling them,” Biggie continued as his friends acted it out. “Everyone laughs and laughs, saying, ‘It tickles! It tickles!’ Their laughter echoes through the forest all day long. That’s our Tickle Day, but it could be YOURS!”
“I’m totally creeped out by this,” Gristle whispered to Bridget.
“Bergens aren’t really ticklish,” Bridget explained, horrified by the thought of a holiday dedicated to having spiders crawl all over them.
But Poppy wasn’t fazed. She went right on to the next holiday, cueing the fashion twins. Satin and Chenille popped out of a window on the set to describe…BUBBLE DAY!
“On Bubble Day, we celebrate with lots of bubbles!” Satin explained, hitting a button. Bubbles started to float up from behind the calendar set.
“And foam!” Chenille said, hitting another button. Foam cascaded into the room.
“Of course, it wouldn’t be Bubble Day without…,” Satin began.
“…LASERS!” Chenille finished, hitting a third button. Colored lasers lit up the bubbles and foam.
Curious about all the bubbles and foam, Barnabus padded out from underneath the thrones and appro-ached the little stage. A huge bubble formed around the crocodile, lifting him to the ceiling!
“Barnabus!” Gristle cried. “What are you doing up there?”
The bubble floated into a pointy crystal hanging off a chandelier, and—POP!—Barnabus fell right into Gristle’s lap.
“Oof!” the king grunted.
Foam rose throughout the chamber. Lasers whirled around, lighting up dark corners that hadn’t been lit in years. Stringy cobwebs and dusty stretches of woodwork were revealed.
One of the lasers hit Gristle in the eye. Multi-colored foam sprayed everywhere!
“Blech!” Gristle cried. “It stings!”
“Well,” Bridget said, trying to look on the bright side. “Maybe it’ll help wash out the glitter!” Then she turned to her Troll friend. “Poppy, these things you’re celebrating—bubbles and foam and lasers—don’t really seem like Bergen things.”
“That’s okay!” Poppy called from the front of the little stage. “No problem! We’re only halfway through!”
“What?” Gristle said. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”
But Poppy was already moving on, encouraging her fellow Trolls to launch into a description of…BALLOON SQUEAL DAY!
Cooper took the lead on this one, stepping out of a door in the set holding an inflated balloon.
“Yes, for twenty-four straight hours,” he said, “you’ll hear nothing but the beautiful, majestic squeal of balloons!”
He stretched the rubber mouth of the balloon, letting out just enough air to make a loud squeal. SQUEEEEEEEEEEAAAL!
One by one, the other Trolls joined Cooper, holding balloons of different colors. And one by one, they stretched out their balloons’ rubber mouths, letting out high-pitched squeals. SQUEEEEAAL!
Bridget and Gristle cringed.
By the time all the smiling Trolls were making their balloons squeal together, the sound in the chamber was almost deafening! SQUEEEE
EEEEEEAAAL!
Bridget and Gristle covered their ears. Barnabus hissed and put his claws over his crocodile ears. (Crocodiles having excellent hearing.)
Branch pulled a finger across his throat, signaling for them to stop making their balloons squeal. The Trolls let go of their balloons, and they shot around the room making rude noises as they deflated. PBBBBBT! One landed on Gristle’s nose and he flicked it away.
“Hey, everybody,” Branch said from the stage. “Why don’t we just take a cool five?”
He tried to smile, but once again it came out as an awkward grimace.
Bridget leaned over to Gristle and whispered, “What’s happening with his face?”
“I think he’s got gas,” Gristle whispered back with a knowing nod.
Branch turned to Poppy, pointed at his smile, and whispered, “Not working?”
“Nope,” Poppy said. “Still super weird.”
Poppy pulled Branch off the stage. The Trolls hurried out of the throne room and into the hallway.
Their holiday presentation was not going well.
In the throne room, Chad and Todd used vacuums and brushes to clean glitter, foam, bubble soap, and balloons off Gristle and Bridget. The chamber was a wet, sparkly mess.
“Whew,” Gristle said. “Thanks, Todd.”
“It’s Chad, sir,” the guard answered patiently.
“Well, then have Todd clean me,” Gristle barked, tired of getting their names wrong.
The two guards switched places so that Todd was cleaning off Gristle and Chad was cleaning off Bridget. The little handheld vacuum cleaners kept getting clogged with balloons, and the guards had to keep emptying them.
“I don’t know about these holidays,” Bridget admitted. “They’re all for Trolls.”
“And they hurt,” Gristle said, taking off his crown and shaking it. “I have glitter in places I didn’t even know existed. Think you can get your little friend to call off her presentation?”
Bridget shook her head. “I’m trying to stop her, but she won’t listen. She’s so peppy, that Poppy.”
“Well, she’s your friend,” Gristle growled. He liked the Trolls, but this was getting out of hand. “You have to do something!” One of his long ears got sucked into the vacuum cleaner. “Ow, ow, ow, Todd, ow!” he cried.