Catching a troll

Nothing like an emergency call from home, “Mom, there is a troll in the house. Come home, please. I need you, Mom.”
Mom heard what her tall, strong, autistic son, ‘Eddie’ said. She really did hear him, but a troll?
“Now Eddie, quit playing that game and get your chores done. I have a job. I need to get to work,” she said and hung up.
In their quiet, conservative community, Mom felt safe leaving her grown son at home while she worked. He had things to do, games to play on his computer, and he could always call her to resolve any difficulties or just to talk.
Many phone calls involved her calmly saying, “Tell me what is wrong,” before she proceeded to talk him through to a resolution.
It all worked perfectly until The Day – the one that all the neighbors still talk about. On that day Eddie called his mom’s workplace repeatedly. He left many messages begging her, “come home right now! There is a Troll in the house. Mom, I need you to come home and get the troll.”
Mom rolled her eyes covered the phone and whispered to her co-worker, “That boy and his games! I can’t go home every time he discovers a new game.”
“Honey I can’t come right now. I have a meeting in a few minutes,” she said. During the meeting, Mom began wondering about Eddie. He had never called so much.
When the meeting ended she approached the manager, “Do you mind if I go home and check on Eddie? He has called several times today.”
“Sure. I hope it’s a false alarm,” the manager said sympathetically.
As Mom entered her driveway, she saw the front door was open. Something was not right. Eddie never left the door open. Cautiously, Mom approached the house, looking and listening.
Just inside the door, she gasped. The place looked like a tornado had hit.
“The cushions were off the couch. The tables and chairs had been flipped over. Someone had tipped my plants onto the ground,” she later told friends.
She saw a mess, but no troll and no Eddie.
“Eddie. Eddie. Where are you?” she called as she walked into the house, stopping only when she saw a chair wedged tightly against a door handle to keep someone or something inside that room.
“Eddie?” Mom walked over, moved the chair aside and opened the door to discover a disheveled, half-sized man – “The Troll” – a little man, a man with dwarfism, a dwarf.
Eddie had never seen anyone with dwarfism.
“Who are you, and why are you here?!” she demanded.
“Ma’am, I am a Jehovah’s Witness. I came by to the share the truth,” the little man said, looking up at her.
“And where is my son, Eddie?” she demanded.
“Ma’am I don’t know. A strong young man opened the door, took one look at me and began making a sound like I had startled him. Then, he grabbed me up, and carried me into the house. I fought to get loose, but I couldn’t get away. He is strong. He pushed me in here. I haven’t seen him since.”
Looking around, the dwarf said, “Sorry about the mess.”
Mom looked further and found Eddie hiding in a closet, holding his phone, scared out of his wits. His video game had come to life when the small Jehovah’s Witness man knocked at the door. Eventually, Mom talked Eddie out of his hiding place. She explained her son’s condition to the visitor and apologized profusely before he left. Eventually she reported the crisis to her supervisor.
By the end of the day, everyone in their small community had heard the absolutely true story about The Troll that Eddie captured.