Come see my troll, Blake isn’t perfect after all

Grandpa and Victoria related a story to us as told by a man at Gospel Light Church. There was a pastor’s wife that had befriended an old gentleman in their church. He was one of those individuals that needed some special oversight in order to live by themselves. It was her habit to take him several times a week on errands so he could provide for his most basic needs. She made sure he had things like tissues, toilet paper and toothpaste since without her help he probably would not think of these things.
One week she had been very busy with church and family and realized that she had neglected to stop by his house to check on him. Just as she was about to call him, her phone rang. She recognized the number, answered apologetically and was about to explain why she had not been over sooner when he blurted out, “Come see my troll!” and hung up. A little worried and confused, she headed out immediately.
When she got to the house she found the poor man in a state of agitated excitement. All the living room furniture had been piled against the bathroom door on the other side of the room from the entry. Things were a mess to say the least and she began to assume that some significant emotional episode had overwhelmed him and was considering calling for medical help. However, she soon realized that other than his insistence that he had a troll barricaded in the bathroom, he seemed perfectly in control of his faculties.
With much persuasion she convinced him to put the room back in order and helped him relocate all the furniture stacked and shoved into the corner against the closet door. The couch, chairs, lamps and tables were all back I place when they slid a large china cabinet away from the door.
When the door was opened, out walked a midget that had been forced into the bathroom three days earlier.
He explained through his fury that he had been selling books door-to-door when this “kook” had unceremoniously picked him up, tossed him in the bathroom and locked him in. He gathered his merchandise and stormed off. She could not think of anything to say. Her ward simply stated, with some degree of satisfaction, “Told you I had a troll in there.”
After some speculation that we had the perfect grandson, it has been decided that he is, after all, pretty normal. Though he has to be waked to be fed, rarely protests when he is held by his siblings, sleeps well through the nights, and lays comfortably for long stretches in our arms without the slightest expression of irritation, he does not like to have his picture taken by professional photographers – especially when he is unclothed. But at less than two weeks old, he is allowed to protest against whatever he wants.
In my book, he’s still pretty close to perfect…in spite of what those who are around him all the time might think.