Apologies for the trollway

To the good citizenry of St. Louis:



I'm writing at the behest of your city council to explain and indeed apologize for what they've deemed a "gross misuse" of 200 million of your tax dollars.



My name's Randall Jenkins, the owner and proprietor of Jenkins Construction. Two years ago I was contracted to produce a sprawling tollway that was to connect every corner of your fine city. Now that the bulk of the construction has been completed and our budget has been exhausted, it has come to light that, due to a clerical error on the original contract and a completely innocent misunderstanding on my part, we've spent the better part of the last two years building St. Louis a giant "trollway."



When I first heard we were to build this trollway, I began assembling a crack team of bounty hunters, animal trappers and Nordic guides that I personally led into the mountainous regions of Norway. We lost seventy-three brave men, but after eight long, grueling months of sorcery and hand-to-axe combat, we emerged with nine trolls, who we then brought back here to St. Louis.



We also spent a considerable amount of resources amassing 250,000 goats, which were to serve as the currency for these trollways, as well as the primary food source for the trolls. By design, motorists would buy the goats for market price (give or take $300), then use them at various trollboths scattered around the city. Drivers would use the goats to barter with the trolls for passage (and also for their very lives, no doubt).



It should be noted that in handling live goats and trying to communicate with these giant creatures who don't seem to understand anything other than violence, the use of the trollway actually results in far, far longer drive-times than even traveling by foot would provide.



Now, given that I consider this trollway to be the crowning achievement of my life, you can probably imagine the conflicting emotions I experienced when I learned that the city had expected a traditional tollway, and had not even considered importing mythical Norse beasts to be the gatekeepers of their city's roadways.



With all this said, and with my most humble apologies extended, I would ask you, the citizens of this great city, to maintain a level head and consider keeping this marvel of modern engineering in place. While it is true that these trolls will not hesitate to take your children while they sleep and will take every opportunity to destroy unthinkable amounts of personal property, those downsides must be weighed against the upside, which, of course, is that you would have the only trollway in North America (and the world's largest, given that Lucifer's Pass in Norway is only a small rope bridge).



Now that I've said my piece, I want to leave you with the last words of Gunther, a brave, great Nordic guide, who we tragically lost during our expedition: "Please don't let my death be in vain. Open this trollway and let it be a testament to all of our sacrifices."



Of course, he was speaking in Norwegian, which I can't understand, and it sounded more like, "AHHHGGG! GSSHHH! WEEEAAGGGHHHH!" followed by the gurgling sounds of the troll's digestive system. All I can do is use context clues to discern his intent which was expressed so beautifully in his native tongue.



Thank you, good, kind citizens of St. Louis for your time. I know you'll do the right thing.



Randall Jenkins