by David Lewman
“Wait, is that Debbie? What did they do to you, my hairy little baby? Come here, come here.” Debbie flew over to Barb, who found Poppy’s card attached to her leg. “What is this? Something from the Pop Trolls?”
She removed the envelope from Debbie’s leg and opened the flap, then pulled out the sparkly card and read it. “ ‘Dear Barb, Can’t wait to meet you! I have tons of great party ideas. Maybe you and I can even be best friends!’ ”
“Party ideas,” King Thrash mumbled, smiling. “I like that!”
Barb turned to Riff. “Best friends? Wait, is she making fun of me? No one says that! ’Cause friendship takes time and years of mutual care and respect! You don’t just become best friends! Plus, everyone knows that I already have a ton of friends! Like Carol!” Barb pointed toward a Rocker Troll lying in the corner. “Right, Carol?”
Carol didn’t say anything. She just squirted cheese out of can straight into her mouth. Some shot back out her nose.
“Okay, you’re busy,” Barb said. “That’s fine. Love you, Carol.”
Barb heard a hissing sound like a lit fuse. SSSSSS…She looked down and saw that it was coming from Poppy’s card. POOF! Glitter shot out of the card, spraying Barb in the face, while a few notes of a catchy pop song played.
“Gnarly,” Riff commented.
Furious at being covered in glitter, Barb growled and started smashing up the tour bus. “Pop music isn’t even real music!” she snarled, using a chain saw to cut a sofa in half. “It’s bland! It’s repetitive! The lyrics are empty! Worst of all, it crawls into your head like an earworm! You can’t get it out!”
She paused her tantrum, catching her breath. “Oohh,” she said, gasping for air. “I’m tired now. Hating things takes a lot of energy.”
Distracted, King Thrash hummed the tune from the card. Barb ran over to her father and knelt by his side, concerned. “Oh, no! Look what their music just did to Dad! Daddy? Come back! Come back to me, Daddy!”
She gave him a juice box and kissed his forehead. Then she picked up Poppy’s card from the floor of the tour bus. “No one makes fun of Queen Barb! We need to find this Queen Poppy and her string. And I know exactly who to ask to find her!”
* * *
It didn’t take Barb long to round up three teams of bounty hunters to search for Poppy. First there was Chaz, who played smooth jazz on his saxophone, lulling his victims into a trancelike state. Second, the Reggaeton Trolls, who loved reggaeton music. And third, the K-Pop Gang, who sang and danced to K-pop music as they captured their prey.
They lined up in front of Queen Barb, and she paced before them, giving them their orders. “You are the most feared bounty hunters in all of Trolldom,” she said. “Whoever brings me Queen Poppy gets to keep their music after I unite the Trolls world as one. Everyone else will lose theirs forever. Okay…go! What are you all standing around for? Get me Queen Poppy!”
As the bounty hunters filed out, heading off to find Poppy, Barb noticed that one of the teams she’d summoned hadn’t shown up. “Hey, Riff,” she asked. “Where are the Yodelers?”
“I heard a rumor they yodeled so hard, an avalanche fell on ’em,” Riff said.
Barb wasn’t interested in rumors. “Well, I don’t pay you to hear!”
“Actually, I’m doing this for college credit,” Riff replied nonchalantly. Riff was always kind of mellow—except when he was ROCKING, of course!
“If anyone can find me Queen Poppy and her string, it’s the Yodelers,” Barb said. She held Poppy’s card over a burning candle and it burst into flames. FWOOF! A last little spray of glitter puffed out. A felt image of Poppy’s face on the cover of the card started to burn until it became ash and blew away.
As the sun rose the next morning, Poppy, Branch, and Biggie reached the top of a rocky desert mesa. They spotted a cluster of buildings not too far off.
“According to the map,” Branch said, “that’s it. That’s Lonesome Flats, where the Country Western Trolls live.”
“Great!” Poppy said. “Let’s get down there!”
They scrambled down the mesa to the flat desert below and made their way along an open road, past two huge cacti, and into the country western town just as a clock struck six o’clock. Passing a sign that read WELCOME TO LONESOME FLATS, they entered the small town’s main street.
The mayor of Lonesome Flats, Delta Dawn, walked out of City Hall. She had big red hair with a little white cowboy hat pinned to it, a white body with four legs like a horse, a green plaid top, and a long, green tail.
“Mornin’, Delta Dawn,” a Country Western Troll said.
The mayor nodded and began singing a lonesome Country Western tune about how hard life could be. During the song, a newly hatched baby Troll was put right to work. Life was tough! The Country Western Trolls loved to get their day started with a sad, sad song.
Poppy was ready to run straight up and start talking to Mayor Delta Dawn, but Branch pulled her and Biggie back. He wanted to spy on the Country Western Trolls for a few moments to plan their approach. Biggie hid inside a barrel in an alley, and Mr. Dinkles peeked out a hole in it. Poppy and Branch peered around from behind the barrel. As the Pop Trolls listened to the Country Western Trolls’ morning song, they grew confused. These earth-toned Trolls were totally new to the Pop Trolls.
“This song is so sad!” Poppy said. As they watched, one of the Country Western Trolls started to cry softly, moved by Delta Dawn’s mournful song. A tear rolled down his cheek. Then even the tear started to cry.
“Yeah,” Branch said. “This song is sad, but life is sad sometimes, so…I kinda like it.”
Poppy looked surprised. “You do? But it’s so different! These Country Western Trolls must not know that music’s supposed to make you happy. That’s awful!”
The Country Western Trolls of Lonesome Flats joined Delta Dawn in singing their sad song and went about their morning chores.
Just as Delta Dawn ended the song, she and her sidekick, Growly Pete, had spotted Poppy, Branch, and Biggie huddled in the alley. Twirling his long green mustache between his fingers, Growly Pete growled suspiciously.
“Now, take it easy, Growly Pete,” Mayor Delta Dawn said. “I feel bad for them. Looks like they got beat up by a rainbow. Let’s give ’em a chance.”
Growly Pete reluctantly agreed. But he didn’t like it.
In their huddle, Poppy told Branch and Biggie, “Guys, first things first. These Trolls need some serious cheering up. Gonna have to go top-shelf.”
Branch and Biggie gasped. “When you say ‘top-shelf,’ ” Branch asked, “you don’t mean…?”
“That’s right,” Poppy confirmed, nodding. “We need to sing them the most important songs in the history of music.”
“Yes, but which ones?” Biggie asked.
Poppy got a determined look on her face. “All of them.”
Branch and Biggie let this sink in. Then Branch asked, “And when you say ‘all of them,’ you don’t mean…”
But Poppy had already leapt onto a bandstand and started singing a medley of cheerful pop music. She wore purple leg warmers, a striped dress, and yellow heart-shaped glasses.
Biggie jumped in, dancing and singing with her. He wore heart-shaped glasses, too, but also red track pants, a red vest, and a big gold B on his chest. Strapped to Biggie’s back, Mr. Dinkles barked a call-and-response. He wore a new green cap.
Overcoming any misgivings he’d had about Poppy’s plan to cheer up the Country Western Trolls, Branch joined them, busting out some sweet dance moves that were all his own. His heart-shaped glasses had yellow frames and purple lenses.
All the Country Western Trolls just stared at the dancing, singing Pop Trolls. Instead of cheering them up, the medley of bright, bouncy tunes seemed to be making them angry.
Poppy, Branch, and Biggie didn’t notice the C
ountry Western Trolls’ negative reaction as they launched into another song-and-dance routine.
The Country Western Trolls scowled.
Biggie switched to a different song again.
The Country Western Trolls glared. A few of them shook their heads and stamped their feet.
The Pop Trolls finished their medley with a flourish, tossing glitter in the air and striking a pose.
Silence. A tumbleweed rolled by and yelled, “You suck!”
Moments later…CLANG!
A jail cell door slammed shut, imprisoning Poppy, Branch, Biggie, and Mr. Dinkles!
Delta Dawn turned the key in the jail door, locking it. “Now, I want you to sit in here and think about what you’ve just done,” she told the Pop Trolls through the bars. “That was a crime against music!”
The mayor and Growly Pete turned to leave, but Poppy called out to them, “Wait, no! We’re here to warn you about Barb, the Queen of Rock!”
Smiling, Delta Dawn turned back to the cell. “Sweetie, I already know and have heard about this Queen Barb and her fancy world tour.”
Poppy shook her head. “No, you don’t understand,” she insisted. “She’s stealing everyone’s strings. She wants to destroy all music except her own. We need to band together and remind her she’s the same as us.”
Delta Dawn looked offended. “We are not the same, honey,” she disagreed. “I’d never do what you just did to music. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go wash out my ears. With soap.”
A little Country Western Troll with pigtails and huge teeth peeked out from the mayor’s big hair. “Oh, you’re in real trouble now!” Clampers Buttonwillow crowed. “Right, Aunt Delta?”
“Keep an eye on ’em, Growly Pete,” Delta Dawn told her sidekick as she left the jail.
“Yeah, stinkin’ pop music!” Clampers sneered. “Nasty!”
As Delta Dawn walked away, Poppy called after her again. “No! Music should bring us together, not divide us!” But this time, the mayor just kept walking. Poppy kicked a rock on the floor in frustration.
“Okay, Branch,” Poppy said to him, plopping down on a cot. “You can say ‘I told you so.’ ”
Instead, Branch sat next to Poppy to comfort her. “I can, but I won’t. Because that’s not what you do to…friends. You did great out there, Poppy.”
She looked up at him, grateful for his comforting words. They smiled at each other.
Okay. This was it. Branch could feel that this was the moment. He could finally tell Poppy how he felt about her. He took a deep breath, and—CRASH!
Biggie, who had been cowering in the rafters, fell from a broken beam, landing right between the two of them. “I’ll never survive the big house,” he said anxiously. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“I know,” Poppy said, giving him a reassuring pat. “That was such a rad medley. I can’t believe it didn’t work!”
“Tell me about it,” Biggie complained. “I did the splits and no one even clapped. Am I not cute anymore? Come on!” What he didn’t realize was that his purple shorts were now torn in back, revealing his blue bottom.
“Maybe if we started with a different song?” Poppy speculated. “Or maybe it was our dance moves. Or maybe we didn’t use enough glitter?”
Branch looked exasperated. “Or maybe the other Trolls aren’t into our music because they’re different.”
Poppy thought about this possibility. “Maybe my dad was right,” she said slowly. “The other Trolls are different in ways I was not prepared for.” Then she realized something incredible and appalling. “Some Trolls—they don’t just want to have fun!”
They sat in the cell for a moment, silently thinking about this gloomy possibility. Then Mr. Dinkles spoke up. “Anybody got a Plan B?”
Branch pointed to his head. “Plan B is up here. Step One: escape from Lonesome Flats!” He examined the floor of the cell and found that it was dirt. Reaching into his hair, he pulled out a foldable shovel. “Travel shovel,” he explained.
He started digging an escape tunnel. Biggie helped, using Mr. Dinkles as a second shovel. The big worm scooped dirt in his mouth and spat it out.
“PTOOEY! PTOOEY!”
Poppy looked around the cell, wishing there were some other option. But she couldn’t come up with one. “Plan B it is,” she sighed. As she searched for something to help dig with…
TWANG! A lasso wrapped around the bars of the locked cell door. CRRRRASH! It yanked the door, and the wall crumbled into rubble and dust!
When the dust cleared, the Pop Trolls saw a Country Western Troll holding the other end of the rope that had set them free. He had long sideburns, a red tail, and a big white cowboy hat that was almost as tall as he was. Like the other Country Western Trolls, he also had four legs with hooves.
“It ain’t right to put you in jail just ’cause your music’s different,” he drawled. “Seems some folks around here don’t appreciate a rad medley when they hear one. Let’s skedaddle!” He extended his hand.
“Yes!” Poppy exclaimed, pumping her fist in triumph. “Mission back on!” She jumped up and grabbed the Country Western Troll’s hand.
“Poppy!” Branch cried. “You don’t even know who this is!”
Poppy looked at the stranger. “I’m Queen Poppy,” she said. “What’s your name?”
“Name’s Hickory,” he replied. “Hop on!”
Poppy turned to Branch. “Branch, this is Hickory.” She turned back to the Country Western Troll. “Hickory, this is Branch.” She hopped on Hickory’s back for a ride, holding on to his hat.
“Enough with the formalities,” Biggie said hurriedly, climbing onto the cell door, which was still attached to Hickory’s lasso. “Let’s go!” Then he remembered that he hadn’t introduced his pet. “This is Mr. Dinkles, by the way.”
“Let’s skedaddle!” Hickory repeated. “Hieeeyah!” He took off running with Poppy on his back and Biggie on the jail door dragging behind them like a sled. Branch still hesitated, unhappy about trusting a complete stranger.
Delta Dawn saw Poppy and Biggie getting away. “Go git ’em, Clampers!” she ordered, dropping the little Country Western Troll on the ground. Clampers sped off after the escaping Trolls, gnashing her big white teeth, eager to bite!
When Branch saw the Country Music Troll coming, he quickly made up his mind, sprinting after Hickory, Poppy, and Biggie. “This is my Plan C, by the way!” he exclaimed. He caught up and leapt onto the skidding jail door next to Biggie and Mr. Dinkles.
“Charge!” Delta Dawn commanded. She and several other Country Western Trolls chased after Hickory and the Pop Trolls, tearing across the desert landscape.
Looking over her shoulder, Poppy saw that the Country Western Trolls were gaining on them. “Oh, no, Hickory!” she shouted.
“I got it, Queen Poppy!” he said, heading for an old pit mine in the dry earth. He easily leapt over the mine, but Champers plunged into it.
“YAAAAHHH!” she cried.
The other Country Western Trolls just kept coming. “Come on, Growly Pete,” Delta Dawn said. “Do your thing!”
Growly Pete twirled his long green mustache into two lassos and sent them flying at the Pop Trolls. “No one can escape my mustache!”
One of the mustache lassos snagged Branch’s leg, yanking him off the jail door! “AHHHH!” he screamed. Then he started laughing. “The mustache tickles!”
Growly Pete dug in his heels and pulled his head back, trying to wrench Branch over to the Country Western Trolls. Branch grabbed for Biggie’s hand, but instead got ahold of Mr. Dinkles’s head!
“Branch!” Biggie yelled. “Hold on to Mr. Dinkles!”
Branch held on. As Growly Pete pulled on his mustache lasso, Mr. Dinkles got stretched longer and longer.
“Meweeeeeee!” Mr. Dinkles chirped.
&nbs
p; Clampers tunneled through the ground, burst from the earth, and launched herself through the air, her mouth open wide and her teeth spinning like a buzz saw. CHOMP! She clamped her teeth on Branch’s pants and tugged at them.
“YEEEAAAH!” Branch screamed, barely managing to hold on to Mr. Dinkles’s tiny top hat with two fingers.
Hickory and the Pop Trolls whipped past some hairy cattle with long striped horns calmly chewing their cud. First came Hickory, galloping furiously, with Poppy holding on for dear life. Behind them stretched his rope, which was still tied to the jailhouse door. Biggie clung to the door as it bounced over the desert floor, kicking up dust. He also held on to Mr. Dinkles, who was stretched way behind the door. Branch brought up the rear, clinging to Mr. Dinkles as Clampers yanked at his pants.
“Okay, y’all,” Delta Dawn called to her posse, “flank ’em!”
The Country Western Trolls closed in on both sides of the Pop Trolls.
“AAAHH!” Poppy cried.
“Hold on!” Hickory told her.
But Poppy looked ahead, peering over Hickory’s shoulder, and saw that they were rapidly approaching the edge of a cliff! “We’re not gonna make it!” she cried.
“Oh, yes we are!” Branch assured her. He grabbed Clampers and used her sharp teeth to bite through Growly Pete’s mustache lasso. Freed from the mustache, Branch shot forward. Mr. Dinkles snapped back to his normal length and bumped into Biggie, who slammed into Hickory, knocking Poppy off her perch. They all screamed as they flew over the edge of the cliff.
“YAAAAAHHHH!”
As they hung suspended over the canyon for just a second, Hickory said, “Well, I hope Pop Trolls can swim!”
Then they plummeted toward the rushing water at the bottom of the ravine!
Delta Dawn and her fellow Country Western Trolls peered over the edge of the cliff, unwilling to follow the Pop Trolls down into the raging rapids far below. The mayor threw her little cowboy hat on the ground in frustration. “Well, dangity-doodly.”