Hotchpotch

“Should not you stir in your pot?" The troll had just arrived from edge of the woods, and the scent of food tracked him to the elf… and his dog Shelby, who was so focused that he hardly noticed the troll doll up. Fragrances from cooking had his biggest priority.

"Well, you see: There is a quarter pear and bog water in the pot now, and when it's cooked in fifteen minutes I stir thoroughly around. And add three Coltsfoots and one Butterbur, as you calling Niels Bugge's blood, and I spice it with a little soil from a fresh molehill. I add a quarter pear more and sprinkles crushed podcasts from all of the country’s politicians last election-speeches in and stir thoroughly again."

"Hmm, that sounds delicious," grunted the troll, "but also a little advanced."

“Yes, and when the whole pear is in, I let it boil for five hours, then I sieve it. So, I've made my special anti-hotchpotch. It serves as the antidote to excessive, assertive election-speeches, so those who consume it easier can separate the wheat from chaff, whether they are talking or listening. If you notice a true star on your sky, lighted up by itself and not by an artificial light, immediately a similar star shines in your heart. It is of the same nature as the stars that sparkled and watched on the sky, you slept under. When you woke up, along with the world, their light was absorbed by the light of the world. But they shone still, even if you did not notice it. Thus ought the mind of your candidates be to deserve your vote."

“My stomach is calling for a little taste, just to test it,” said the troll. His hairy hand caressed his stomach in circles.

“Well, but you must be patient then. I wonder if you have noticed that election-speeches coalesce as a hotchpotch, decorated with mudslinging, so it is difficult to sort out, who says what and why? I think you have. Therefore I provide it free of charge to anyone who has a politician in the stomach and election in mind. They have costs enough already, I can understand. It is my support for the country's mental health. I fill it in bottles, and sell it for a dollar to everyone else. They are the ones who pull the load, and those who keep my business going."