“Would you eat a piggable?” Luna asked. She grinned at the girl sitting across of her on the train. The college student – a vegetarian, but otherwise well engrossed in the many pleasures of capitalism looked at the young woman (Luna had shape-shifted in a woman of college age), and raised an eyebrow.

“A piggable? What’s a piggable?”

“A piggable is a pig, but made out of vegetables. It’s carrots, potato, tomato and something else, but it’s very much alive. And it squeels when you cut it. But when you eat it… it’s pretty much vegetables.”

“What? No, I wouldn’t. That sounds horrible. Piggables don’t exist, do they?”

The girl looked at Shane to find an answer.

“They do,” the troll said, and he shrugged. “There was once an evil stepmother who made them to torment her daughter. She served her a piggable sandwich one day, then took her out to the backyard where she showed them the piggables. The girl started crying, and still hasn’t stopped crying. They say that her tears form the River Of Sorrow.”

“Oh my god, that’s so cruel…”

“Would you eat a toddluit, then?” Luna asked.

“Do I want to know?” the girl asked.

Shane nodded “no” but Luna didn’t care much for his protest.

“Well, that same Witch had another daughter. Once, she caught the daughter playing with a toddler, and because she didn’t want her daughters to ever marry or have children, she made toddluits and server her a, uh… toddluit bowl.”

“Is that…”

“Don’t ask,” Shane said. “You don’t want to know.”