chapter 51

Which Is the Fifty-First Chapter

Stimple shoved Jackson out.

“Hey! You don’t need to be so rough!” Jackson shouted.

Stimple growled, but paused. “Humph.” And he walked off down the path. Jackson paused, then chased him down and walked beside him quietly. He had to get Stimple to help him get home! How on earth was he going to convince him?

“So …” Jackson began tentatively. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

Stimple rolled his eyes. Jackson tried again.

“Do you have to collect all the garbage from the tree?”

Stimple sneezed. “Yah.” He sniffed loudly and pulled a half-eaten roast beef on rye out of his beard. He threw it into his mouth.

Jackson and Stimple stopped in front of two garbage bags. “Want some help?” Jackson asked. Stimple just raised his eyebrows and kept chewing.

One of the garbage bags was a perfectly rounded, double-bagged, extra-strength, super-flex, pink-ribboned, freshly-scented bag. The other was a dirty brown bag with holes that were oozing blackish liquid and smelled like a festering burrito.

Jackson reached out for the perfectly rounded, double-bagged, extra-strength, super-flex, pink-ribboned, freshly-scented bag. “I’ll carry this one, if you don’t mind.”

Stimple shrugged. “Suit yerself.” He hoisted the dirty brown bag and threw it on his back. Little bits of blackish liquid flew out of the hole, spraying the walls and Jackson’s feet.

“Oh, gross!” Jackson muttered. He looked around for some fallen leaves to wipe it off. Oh, the stink was awful! He wished he had some antibacterial wipes now! He bent down to pick up his own garbage bag. Not too heavy. Must be Burt’s garbage bag.

Jackson followed Stimple down the path. He had to stay about twenty feet behind, though, as Stimple’s bag kept oozing out blackish liquid and festering burrito stink.

On and on they walked, the path seeming to lead nowhere. Jackson switched the garbage bag to his other side. The bag wasn’t heavy, exactly, but his left hand was cramping up. Jackson hummed to himself.

After a few minutes he transferred the bag back again. “Stimple? Do we have much further?” Jackson asked. He was getting a little bored. And thirsty. And maybe a little tired.

“Oh ho! Gettin’ tired, are ya? Thought you were a strong lad!” Stimple cast a glance over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m just thirsty! Maybe we could stop for water? I think I have some on me.” Jackson stopped walking and put down the garbage bag, reaching for his satchel to grab the bottle of water, and then happened to glance up at Stimple. A long, stringy strand of mozzarella cheese ran from his nose to his ear.

“Um …” Jackson mimed wiping his mouth with his forearm. Then he opened his eyes really wide, staring intently at Stimple, and mimed wiping again.

Stimple had no idea what Jackson was doing.

“Stimple, you’ve got … er … What is that? Cheese stuck to your face? Is that … where did you get french onion soup?”

Stimple brought his arm to his mouth and wiped. “Humph. Some friend you are,” he growled.

“Wait, what? Are we friends?” Jackson asked.

“Not anymore!”

“What? Stimple!” Jackson dropped his garbage bag and threw up his hands. But Stimple just turned his back, pushing the leaky, smelly garbage bag into Jackson. Jackson heaved a very exasperated sigh. “Stimple,” he said, “friends tell each other important things like if they have french onion soup cheese stuck to their face or toilet paper stuck to their shoes.”

“Shoes? I got no shoes!” And Stimple began to trudge away.

“Stimple! I’m trying to help!” Jackson called out.

Stimple whirled around and stomped right up to Jackson, shoving his big nose into Jackson’s face, his putrid breath smelling of onions and a very strong broth. Jackson held his breath.

“I don’t want help from a lily-livered pipsqueak like you!” Stimple growled.

Jackson cringed. “You don’t have to be nasty.”

Stimple’s hairy face grew purple. “An’ you don’t have to be such a whiner! You don’t hear me complainin’ about pickin’ up garbage every day, do ya? I do my job, and I do it good! I was dumped by my own parents, and I’ve had to fend for myself every single day of my life! You don’t hear me complainin’, do ya? No! Because I’m tougher than you, and I’m stronger than you!” Bits of saliva sprayed through the air as Stimple yelled. “I didn’t ask ya to help me, did I? No! I don’t need a needle-nosed tweedlehead followin’ me around asking questions all the time! So quit followin’ me!”

“I’m helping you because I’m trying to get home! If you would just tell me how to get out of this tree, we’d both be a lot happier!” Jackson shouted.

“Oh ho!” cried Stimple. “The truth comes out now! Yer just tryin’ to get on my good side so I’ll do what you want!”

“I’m selfish?” asked Jackson, incredulous. “Are you kidding me? You’re the one who hasn’t bothered to help me at all! You told me you had work to do and I had to wait. So I waited! Patiently!

And now you won’t help me? I’m helping you out of the goodness of my heart!”

“Oh, you are, are ya?” Stimple dropped the dirty brown garbage bag with holes that oozed blackish liquid and smelled like festering burritos. It made a satisfyingly squishy sound as it hit the ground. “Out of the goodness of yer heart?”

“Yes!” Jackson grabbed the smelly garbage bag.

“And not because you want me to just take ya home?”

“Well … I’d help you even if you didn’t take me home!” Jackson stuttered and spluttered.

“Oh, ya would, would ya?” Stimple shoved his nose into Jackson’s face again.

“Yeah. I would!” Jackson growled back.

“Then ya won’t mind if I don’t take ya home!”

“What?” Jackson swallowed. And paused. “N-no.”

“Ha! Ya right!” Stimple turned away.

Jackson took a deep breath. Something tickled his brain about the way Sir Shaw looked at him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Think, think, think.

And the more Jackson thought about it, the more he understood that life was unfair. And the more he understood that Stimple had had it rough growing up. So a little piece of Jackson’s heart hurt for Stimple. He felt bad for him. And that is called compassion.

“I’m sorry, Stimple,” Jackson said, putting a hand on the troll’s shoulder.

Stimple shrugged him off. “Got work to do. Leave me alone.” Stimple grabbed the two garbage bags and walked away.

“Stimple!”