The troll who lives under the Aurora Bridge celebrated his 20th birthday last night, which, in case you didn't know, is the real reason people dress up in costumes on October 31.
That's a long time to stay down there in the shadows munching on the stray cars that come his way (that's a vintage VW Beetle in his left hand). We've made the assumption that he likes to see us out playing in the street on Troll Avenue North, but no one knows for sure because he's made of concrete and never even cracks a smile.
That's probably why we wear costumes, so he doesn't recognize us, on the off chance he just wants to be left alone. Trolls, I think, are known for bearing grudges and I drive over that bridge every day. I played it safe in my pink bunny ensemble.
Ricky Gene stood on the Troll and told us that 4 fingers from Elvis' left hand are inside the Beetle.
We trotted out some zombie belly dancers for our entertainment if not his.
Then a host of skeleton drummers and dancers marched up the hill to lead us in a parade through the streets of Fremont. I walked most of the way with Zsa Zsa and Jasper's dad Peter, a Woodland Park family from years ago.
But we didn't stay exposed for long because it's the Troll's night, and as everyone knows, trolls live under bridges, in this city of bridges. So it was under the Fremont Bridge that we stopped to dance.
A few other Woodland Park alumni, both kids and parents, where there under the bridges as well, howling, dancing, and celebrating the Troll. Aurelia even gave me candy from her trick or treating stash.
It makes me happy to live in a place where adults haven't forgotten how to play.