The first thing I heard as I opened the door was Dad screaming “Nooooo!” then I saw Angie run up the stairs shouting “I’ll see if it looks any better from up here!”“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Don’t ask!” shouted Angie.

But I had asked and their behaviour was kind of freaking me out. “Dad!” I shouted, “What’s the matter?”

Dad turned at looked at me, “You’d better come and see for yourself.”

I walked into the kitchen to see all the cupboards and the fridge door open. Every single piece of food – except for the tins and the freezer stuff – was open or missing.

“What the..?” I stuttered.

The kitchen was a complete mess

“It seems,” Dad said, nodding towards the garden, “that our little friend may have helped himself to our food today.”

“How did he get in?” I asked, still taking in what I saw. There was food all over the place. Half a tin of baked beans was on the floor and I looked up to see the other half on the ceiling above it. A sea of salad and vegetables covered the floor and the table was strewn with bits of half-eaten bread and various jars which were open and half-empty.

“It looks like he squeezed in through the cat flap.” Dad said.

I looked at the back door and gasped. The cat flap was not there. In its place was a round hole as if somebody had smashed through.

“So I see, ” I said “But surely he’d fit through the flap. Why is the hole there?”

“He got in through the flap. The hole is how he got out.” Dad sighed.

“I don’t understand?”

“He tried to go through the flap but he didn’t fit.” Dad said. “Have a look in the garden and you’ll see what I mean.”

I looked through the back window and saw the troll sitting in his hole with the trapdoor open. Whereas he had room to spare before, now he fitted the hole almost completely. He was the same shape and colour and just as fluffy but now his fur was a bit more spikey . The main difference was that now he was the size of a large dog. He saw me and waved and smiled. For some daft reason I waved back but Dad grabbed my hand and pulled it down. As he did this Angie yelled down the stairs.

“The apples on the tree have gone Dad and it looks like next door’s vegetable patch is a right old mess.”

“What the heck happened?” I spluttered.

“Isn’t it obvious? He grows when he eats.” Dad said.

I looked around the chaos of the kitchen. “He grows a lot” I said “and he eats a lot too.”

“As far as I can tell, this was all done this afternoon. It also seems he has trouble stopping once he starts.” Dad continued.

“Have you spoken to him?”

“Yes, he says we gave him permission to eat our food.”

“We didn’t do that, did we?”

“I don’t think so but he reckons we agreed to feed him and therefore it was a natural for him to presume we’d let him help himself.”

“How the heck did he get to that conclusion?” Angie said coming back in the room.

“I don’t know.” Dad sighed, “When I started to question it, he started all that ‘You’re being rude’ stuff again.”

“But even if he thought we did, that doesn’t mean we’d give him permission to eat next door’s vegetables.” I said.

“He didn’t eat them.” Angie said, “They’ve not been eaten, they’ve just been trampled on.”

“By what?” Dad asked.

Angie shrugged. “Beats me, looks like some kind of animal – or a few of them.”

“Do you think it was him?” I asked, nodding to the back garden.

“No. He said couldn’t get over the fence, remember, and besides there are small footprints in the mud.” she said.

“Still think we should trust him?” I smirked.

“I never said we should!” she huffed.

“Enough!” Dad said. “We don’t have time for arguing. We need to work out how to get rid of the troll before he eats our entire house!”

“Perhaps he’ll move on when there’s nothing left.” I suggested.

“By which time, we’ll also have to move on Martin!” Dad said, “We need a plan to get rid of him before then.”

“What are we having for dinner?” I asked as my stomach rumbled.

Angie glared at me “Bad timing, Martin!”

“What?” I said, “I can’t be expected to think on an empty stomach!”

“We’ll get something in.” Dad said, “But while we’re thinking, let’s clear this up.”

“What about the troll?” Angie asked.

“I’ve explained that he is not welcome to help himself to any of our food or belongings or indeed anything in the house or garden without asking first – each time.”

“Did you shout?” Angie asked.

“No I did not shout,” Dad said, getting frustrated, “I explained it to him.”

“Oh dear.” I said.

“What?” Dad said.

“Well your explanations don’t always have the effect you expect Dad.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re not as,” I struggled to find the right word, the polite word, “interesting as you they sound to you.”

“Are you saying I’m boring?”

“No, not at all. Well, maybe a bit.” I said.

“Yes Dad, we are.” Angie added.

“Oh this is just great!” Dad said, “Here I am, trying to fix this mess and you two choose now to tell me I’m the most boring person on the planet!”

“Not the most boring Dad.” I said helpfully, “Some of the documentaries you watch on the telly are more boring than you.”

Dad shook his head. “So what, you are saying that he might not have listened to me?”

“It’s possible.” Angie said. “You do tend to go on a bit.”

“I’ll have another word with him.” Dad said.

“Why don’t I do it?” Angie smiled “You two can make a start here. She went outside and chatted to Johan for a few moments and then came back in.

“He understands now.” she said. “I’ve explained his behaviour upset us and we found it a bit rude. He’s said he’ll get permission before doing anything like that again.”

“Good.” Dad said.

“But he also said,” Angie continued “if that’s not what we meant we should have been clearer. He suggests we label the food so he knows which bits he’s allowed to eat.”

“Label the food!” Dad spluttered, “LABEL THE FOOD! He’s not allowed to eat any of it!”

“I said that but he said it was just a suggestion.”

“Perhaps,” I added, ” we could put a label on all the cupboard and the fridge which says ‘Trolls are not to eat the food in here.’ or something?”

“Good idea!” Dad said throwing empty packets into the bin. “This is going to cost a fortune and somehow I’ve got to explain to Mr Peaflummock.”

“It’s worse than that, Dad.” Angie said.

“What do you mean?”

“Johan said the vegetable patch was wrecked by the foxes, not by him.”

“What foxes?” I said.

“Apparently he invited a family of foxes to live in our garden. He said he told them we were friendly and wouldn’t throw them out.”

“What!” Dad said, dropping the bin.

“It’s true, I’ve seen them. They’ve made a den behind the shrubs at the back. He’s also invited some magpies, field mice, assorted worms and a group of beetles.”

“Colony.” I said. “It’s a colony of beetles.”

“I don’t care if it’s a bag of beetles!” Dad said, “They’re not staying in my garden! I’m not running a nature reserve you know?”

“You are now Dad.” I said, looking in the garden.

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