A “troll” is someone who goes “trolling” on the internet, or in other words, fishing for responses, just because. I, too, am a troll. I spend a good deal of my day composing posts that I hope will get me noticed, and will get people to talk to me, and notice how witty I am.
Some trolls try to achieve this goal by talking about what they don’t like (or who they don’t like, or both). Oddly enough, these trolls seem to like being poked and insulted – while they complain loudly at this treatment, they also giggle at the same time, and wiggle their toes.
I, on the other hand, am a different sub-species of troll. I am a Pro-Fun Troll. I will only talk about what I do like, and I’d rather be tickled pink then poked with a stick. Unfortunately, Pro-Fun Trolls are a rather shy bunch (not unlike Wombles), and we don’t defend our territories very well, so that sometimes, the Complaining Trolls take over.
Well, I, for one, have decided to try something new: I’m putting my rather enormous foot down, and defend my little piece of territory. And the first part of that is to come out into the open and call very loudly to other Pro-Fun Trolls:
“LET’S SEE IF WE CAN TAKE OVER THE WEEKLY STATS!”
Let’s see how many varied, on-topic, positive Doctor Who threads we can maintain this week, and next week, and the week after that. Let’s see how many lurkers we can coax into the open to join us. Are you out there? Are you game?
I know you can’t see me through the computer screen, so here’s a discription:
Since, as I said, Pro-Fun Trolls are shy, I’ll help you get to know me by describing what I look like:
I stand three feet tall, and my girth is 90 inches. My nose is two feet long (and so are my feet). My skin is a lovely, clear shade of avacado green.
I’m wearing a conical paper hat that’s electric fuscia in color, with the words “Happy Birthday” written on it in bright purple (It’s always Somebody’s birthday, so I have to be prepared). I’ve got rings on my fingers, and bells on my toes.
I’m wearing a fishing vest that I’ve embroidered with gold thread and beads. It’s pockets are all dimensionally transcendental like the Doctor’s (this vest is actually a spare of his that never quite fit, so he gave it to me), and inside each one are little odds and ends I’ve picked up throughout my life. I don’t know what half of them are for, but I’m convinced that I can make wonderful playthings out of them, or that they’ll inspire a story, or draw the thumb out of a shy child’s mouth.
:::Reaching into a pocket:::
Let’s see, what do we have here?
:::Pulls out a shimmering silver cube that somehow seems to shift about like an animated Escher print:::
Well, I’ll be! It’s a working model of a tesseract! And there’s something written on it: “To GrANFAtER, LOV SuSAN”
I say – what do you make of that?! I’d better get this back to him…