Do Ogres Poop In The Woods?

“Ok, so if ogres really do live in the woods.” said Thomas

 

“Which we know they do, fact” interrupted Chris.

 

“Yeh,” Thomas continued, “so where do they go to the loo?”

 

“Well, in the woods obviously.” said Chris. 

 

“Yeh… I get that. But where? I mean do they have a specific spot? Do they just go anywhere?”  Thomas explained.

 

“EWWW” Chris turned up his nose. “But if they just go anywhere, then, that would mean they could tread in it.”

 

“Yeh gross right. Ok, so we agree they probably have a specific, like, dedicated area.”

 

“God, I hope so.” Chris paused. “Well, if they have a specific area, do you reckon it’s communal?”

 

Both boys remained silent for a moment, the wind thundered around the tent, the thin fabric waving and rustling.

 

“You’d think so.” It was Thomas who spoke. “Otherwise you’d have the same problem, only you could tread in someone else’s.”

 

“Exactly so they must have a communal loo.” said Chris.

 

There was another pause, the sound of the wind now replaced with nothing. 

 

“Speaking of loos,” Chris began. “I could actually do with going myself.”

 

Chris crawled forward, unzipping the tent, the noise loud in the silent wood.

 

The boys walked away from their camp, heading deeper into the dark trees. They both walked slow, watching their surroundings, not out of fear of monsters, but for the fear of walking through ogre poop. 

 

After a few moments, the light from the camp fire faint in the distance, they stopped. This seemed as good a spot as any for a squat in the woods. As they were about to pick a tree, they noticed a faint light in the distance, it was not the camp, that was the other way, and this light was blue. The boys decided, doing up their trousers, to check it out. 

 

As they got closer, they could hear the soft mumbling of voices as the glow coming through the trees cast large shadows onto the forest floor. Hiding behind a tree they peeked into the light. 

 

“No way” Chris whispered, glancing to Thomas who kept his eyes fixed into the light. 

 

In front of the two boys were two queues of at least a dozen creatures in each. Even in the low glow of the light they could make out the yellowish green tint of the creatures’ skin, as each stood at least eight feet tall. The light that was the only illumination, emanated from a large neon blue sign. The sign read, 

 

´PUBLIC LAVATORY 

(Ogres Only)´

 

The text was large and suspended above a stone structure with two doors. The door on the left had a large W and on the right an M. The boys stared to both queues. To be honest there was little difference between those in each, if the W stood for women, then the female ogres looked no different from the male.

 

“This is really cool, but I still really need the loo.” Chris whispered 

 

“Why don't we try and go in there. I’m intrigued what an Ogre toilet looks like.” said Thomas, nodding toward the neon sign.

 

“Err, cos they are Ogres!” Chris stated. “What if they eat us?”

 

“Our camp is literally one hundred meters away and there are like twenty of them. If they wanted to eat us, they could eat the whole camp, anytime.”

 

Thomas then stepped out from the tree, walking into the light. Standing on a twig, it snapped, sending a crack echoing through the trees. The ogres stopped mumbling to one another and stared to Thomas. For a moment they looked and looked and Thomas thought, for a second, he was going to go to the bathroom there and then. After the moment ended however, the ogres turned back and continued their conversations, taking a step forward as the queue shortened. Thomas was able to breath once more. Seeing the reaction of the ogres gave Chris the confidence to come to Thomas’s side, and the two joined the back of the queue.

 

“But it says ogres only. Do you not think they will mind?” Chris questioned.

 

“No, I wouldn’t worry about it, young sir.” The voice that spoke was neither Thomas’s, nor Chris’s. It was deep, etched with a husk. The old ogre in front of them turned, looking down at the boys he smiled, his mouth stretching wide and revealing more than a few missing teeth. The teeth that remained were as yellow as his skin. The ogre’s face was long, thin, not round like the boys had expected, in fact the ogre bore no resemblance to Shrek at all. His head was narrow, and at least two-foot-long, with skin that hung loose with age. His eyes, looked relatively small, for the size of his face, and stood close together, each kissing his nose. “We get all sorts using our facilities. But as long as you keep it nice and don’t forget to flush, then you will have no bother from us.”

 

“Urm… Thank you.” both boys mumbled, as they stared back.

 

“I didn’t think an ogre would be so… nice.” Chris whispered to Thomas. 

 

“No, me neither.” Thomas replied “I can’t imagine him eating anyone.”

 

A barking laugh erupted from the old ogre, who despite now looking away from the boys was clearly still able to hear.  

 

“Ogres don’t eat anyone, haven’t for over a century.” The ogre turned back to the boys. “Don’t even eat meat nowadays, none of us, nor eggs for that. We try to avoid anything that comes from animals. Only plant-based diets for us nowadays.”

 

“So, you’re vegan?” asked Chris, all of them taking a few steps forward, nearing the front of the queue. 

 

“I’m what now?”  asked the ogre, his eyes narrowed even further as he leaned forward, eying Chris. “Now if you are gonna be calling names then I might be less inclined to allow you to use our facilities.” 

 

“No, sorry, we mean no offense.” Thomas jumped in. “It’s just that in our… world… if you only eat things from plants, then you’re called a vegan.”

 

“Oh,” The ogres face relaxed, as he straightened his back, “Right… well in that case yes, we have been… Vegans… for over a hundred years now.”

 

“Cool.” said Chris. “Before it was trendy.”

 

It was clear that the ogre wanted to question Chris on what he meant by ‘trendy’, but before he could, there was the sound of a toilet flushing indicating, it was his turn. He stepped inside closing the door firmly once again. Chris and Thomas were now left alone, the only two that remained in the queue for the gents. 

 

Chris glanced across to the ladies’ queue, that still stood at least ten deep. There really was no difference between the females and the males, well they looked different, all the ogres in the queue had looked different, but nothing to decipher one being male or female. 

 

“Hey,” Thomas shouted, nudging Chris in the ribs, “you’re up.”

 

Chris had not noticed the sound of the toilet flushing, or the door opening. He now realised he had not just glanced but had been staring at the female ogres, and one or two had taken to looking back, a little judgment, or maybe it was jealously in their eyes, as they saw he was at the front of the queue. He tore his eyes away and stepped into the stone structure.

 

Inside, the toilet was not all dissimilar to any other toilet Chris had been in, and by dissimilar, I mean it was exactly the same. There was a white porcelain toilet, plumbed into the stone floor, it wasn’t even bigger, a toilet roll hanging from the wall and numerous spares stacked in the corner. By the loo, which was remarkably clean and cold on Chris’s bare thighs, was a magazine rack. Curiosity got the better of him, he reached down rifling through the magazines. They were all the same, different issues, but the same magazine.

 

“Huh… who knew?” Chris mumbled to no one.

 

The two boys started returning to their camp, their footing less cautious as they now knew the answer to where ogres go to the bathroom.  

 

“Ok… well that was weird.” said Chris

 

“I know… Heat magazine.” Thomas replied, “I didn’t even know that was still a thing.”

 

“Yeh right.” said Chris. “Well, at least we now know where ogres poop… but… I have always wondered where trolls poop?”

 

The two boys stopped in their tracks, once more placing each foot down gently, but not before they had checked for any troll poop. 

 

Meanwhile, many miles away, in a cabin made of wood and rock, a troll sits down on a white porcelain toilet.

 

“Herb…” Claire shouted through the bathroom door, “don’t you dare forget to flush this time.”

 

“No dear.” Replied Herb as he picked up his copy of Heat magazine, and settled down for what could be some time.

 

End