Trolling for Cupcakes
By JL Merrow
Billie read the sign. Twice. Then another time for good measure.
Each time, it said “Privit. Futparth Cloesd. No Trespisers. That Meens Yuo.” Not a very friendly message, Billie thought. Distinctly unwelcoming, in fact.
And annoyingly inconvenient. She’d been using this short-cut through the copse for months now. It was the quickest way from her house to Pixies’ Cupcakery by about half a mile. If she went the long way around, she’d probably end up using more calories than she gained from her mid-morning treat, and that didn’t seem very cost-effective. She folded her suntanned arms and stood there, tapping one sandal-clad foot and scowling at the sign. Annoyingly, it didn’t take fright and scurry away into the trees.
Then again, neither did it turn in
