There was a very clever fox that lived in a forest somewhere in Northern Oregon where people never party till sunrise or drink so much that they get sick. Well… hardly ever… OK, some of the time then. His name is of no consequence but you know it nonetheless, for he is Everyfox and his tale is timeless.

So anyway, Mr. Everyfox was prowling along one evening looking for half empty beer bottles, and there in a little clearing lit by moonlight were eight tiny trolls doing a very weird dance around a box of matches. One of them had seen humans make fire from it, and then watched them accidentally drop it in their haste to leave when the wolves started howling - I think the people had just seen that vampire movie. But now the box was theirs, and all the power it contained, whether for good or evil.

The fox was determined to investigate this, because he was hungry and curious and everyone knows that foxes love to eat little magical trolls. (Did I mention they were magical?) He approached silently and watched their strange behavior. He was close enough to jump out and get a few, but was amazed by what they were doing.

Fred, the president-elect of the trolls, soon realized that dancing was not making anything happen to the box so they stopped to talk. One suggested singing instead of dancing since they were all good singers, but their goofy songs didn’t work either. It was finally agreed that they should just open the box. Doing that, they looked at the red-tipped sticks inside. After silly dancing around those for a few minutes and singing the safety warning, Fred removed one and held it high. “We are so fortunate this night” he exclaimed. “We have power undreamed of! What shall we do with this power?” They all shouted excitedly that the box of matches should be enshrined so that other magical trolls could visit it and they would grow rich from tourism. Fred decided they would do just that, but test one first to see if it really made fire. After all, he reasoned, they must have proof. That is how legends are made.

They were about to strike the match against the box when the fox pounced and caught two of them in his mouth, and the rest scattered into the night.

“They run like drunken ducks”, the fox thought. He laughed at his own cleverness as he finished them off.

The next day the remaining trolls assembled, struck the match, and burned down the forest to teach that fox a lesson. And this can apply to us, especially those who sometimes stay up all night drinking.

Never mess with dancing magical trolls who have matches!