Trolls 3: Band Together
Part 1: The Stubborn Oldest Brother
The morning sun peeked through the cracks of the bunker as John Dory’s brothers bustled around him. Despite the festive atmosphere of Pop Village outside, tension hung in the air. Floyd, still recovering from the mishap with Velvet and Venner, lounged on the couch. His normally vibrant tail drooped pitifully behind him, reflecting his fatigue.
“Hey, big bro,” Floyd croaked out, his voice barely above a whisper. “How are you feeling today?”
“I’m fine, Floyd,” John Dory replied, forcing a grin. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, though, as a cough erupted from his throat. He winced, clutching his chest.
“Yeah, sure,” Clay chimed in, rolling his green eyes. “Fine. Just a cough.”
Floyd narrowed his eyes, glancing at John’s temporary façade. “It sounds pretty bad to me. I think we need to—”
“Maybe you should be resting more instead of trying to take care of me,” interrupted John, attempting to bat away Floyd’s concern.
“Guys!” Branch jumped in, looking stern with his dark blue hair falling into his eyes. “Can we just focus here? Dr. MoonBloom said you had to get checked out. No arguments."
“I”m not going to the doctor, guys. Seriously,” John protested, his tone growing defensive. He kicked at the ground, his cyan eyes flaring with irritation. “I’m just tired. I don’t want any of those shots.”
“John, that's not how this works,” Clay said, crossing his arms. He leaned against the wall, looking ever so slightly annoyed. “It's not about what you want. We’re worried about you.”
“Worried about me? I’m the oldest here!” John retorted, his tail flicking restlessly behind him.
“Barely!” Branch countered. “You know what I hate? When you act like you’re invincible. You’re not! You're just stubborn!”
At that, all eyes turned to Floyd, who sighed heavily, his pink-magenta hair falling partially over his eyes. “You all are missing the point. If John thinks he’s invincible, that’s a... a problem. Right, Clay?”
“Exactly,” he agreed, his expression softening. “You’ve got problems, John. You’re being stupid, and we all know it.”
“Okay,” John conceded after a moment, with a slight grunt. “But I’m only going because Floyd is sounding especially pathetic today—sorry, bro.”
Floyd’s tail swayed as he grinned sheepishly while Clay smirked. “See? A little compassion goes a long way.”
When they arrived at Dr. MoonBloom's practice, other patients were already there. The scent of antiseptic filled the air, and John’s stomach turned uncomfortably as he eyed the array of medical tools.
“Just breathe, John. It’s just a doctor visit,” Clay said, a glimmer of worry behind his feigned bravado.
As they waited, John Dory began to whisper to himself, his tail curling and twitching. Floyd noticed and frowned, sensing his brother's anxiety. “It’s not gonna hurt that much. I promise you.”
“Easier said than done,” John grunted back just as Dr. MoonBloom called out for them.
“Let’s take a look, shall we?” she said, leading them into her examination room. After measuring his temperature and checking his symptoms, fear struck John when he heard the words: “You never received your newborn shot, did you?”
“No…” John muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Looks like that’s causing your cough.” She nodded gravely. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to come back tomorrow for the immunization.”
After the check-up and a few minutes of deliberating, John exploded. “I am NOT taking that shot!”
“John, you have to!” Clay shouted back, slightly exasperated.
“I said NO!” John’s voice boomed through the bunker once more as they returned home.
His brothers stood beside him, making their case, but he was having none of it. “C’mon, I hate shots!”
“Yeah, well, you seem to love ignoring medical advice,” Clay countered, arms crossed.
“Don’t make me call Bruce!” Clay threatened, his tone sharp.
“Call him! He can’t make me do anything! I’m literally the oldest!” John Dory declared stubbornly, trying to drown out the sound of his thumping heart.
“Yeah, by a whole four years! Enough is enough!” Clay snapped back.
In a mood, John bolted to his room, slamming the door and locking it tight. Clay sighed and pulled out his bug phone, dialing Bruce.
“Hello?” Bruce answered, his voice calm despite the chaos that was bound to unfold.
“Hey, Bruce, we—uh, we have a situation,” Clay sighed.
“Is it about John? I’m going to guess it is,” Bruce said knowingly.
“Yeah. We need your help getting him to take his shot tomorrow. He’s freaking out, locked in his room, and claiming he’s not going.”
“He is so much like me,” Bruce chuckled, but soon switched to a serious tone. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
After the call ended, Floyd's droopy tail perked up slightly as he turned to Clay. “You think Bruce can really get through to him?”
“Who knows? But he’s the oldest—he might have a better shot at it,” Clay responded, already setting his mind on a plan.
Night fell, but the brothers were restless. Bruce made his way back to Pop Village, arriving at the bunker to find both Clay and Branch prepping, and Floyd shifting uneasily.
“So...” Floyd started, flitting his gaze back and forth between his brothers. “What’s our plan?”
“When we were younger, John Dory just... hated shots,” Bruce broke the silence. “Before you and Branch were born, I remember when John had to go to the doctor for a shot… He was a total baby. Seriously. We had to hold him down as he kicked and screamed.”
“Really?” Branch blinked, going wide-eyed.
“Yeah,” Bruce nodded, chuckling softly, trying to ease the mood. “It was a production.”
“Oh man,” Clay said, smirking. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t throw a tantrum again. Or we’ll all be in trouble.”
Morning came, and an air of determination filled the bunker. They gathered in front of John’s door, ready to convince him.
“John!” Clay shouted, knocking on the door. “Time to face reality and get moving!”
“Nooooo!” came John’s voice muffled from behind the door, followed by a clattering sound.
“Come on! We’re not leaving you behind!” Branch added, trying to sound reassuring.
With heavy sighs, Clay turned to Bruce. “Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Bruce replied, brandishing a lock-pick concealed in his hand.
After some back-and-forth bickering and John yelling in protest, Bruce worked his magic on the lock until it finally clicked open.
“Now! Grab him!” Bruce shouted as Clay pushed open the door.
They stormed inside. John was attempting to roll off his bed, but he was swiftly restrained by Clay and Branch.
“Get off me!” John yelled, kicking his legs as he squirmed. “Stop it!”
“John! You’re going!” Clay said sternly, trying not to get kicked by John’s thrashing feet.
“Let me go! I don’t want that shot!” he protested, but Bruce grabbed him under his arms, hoisting him up.
“Too late! You’re coming with us,” he grunted, exerting all his strength.
Floyd, still frail but following closely behind, barely managed to keep up, his tail whipping back and forth in an anxious rhythm.
“Why do you guys care so much? I’m the oldest! You can’t force me!” John howled, straining against his brothers as they dragged him down the path.
“Yes, we can!” Branch yelled through clenched teeth. “And we will!”
Other trolls in the village glanced over, some chuckling at the sight while others simply shook their heads, accustomed to the delightful chaos of the Band of BroZone.
“Look, John!” Floyd pleaded with sincerity, “We just want you to be okay. Please!”
But John was too worked up to listen. “I don’t want it!” he shouted one last time as they forced him into the clinic.
When Dr. MoonBloom met them inside, she glanced at the squad huddled around John. “Well then! Let’s get started!”
John paled instantly, the color draining from his face as he spotted what lay on the nurse’s station—four syringes lined up neatly.
“Wait! FOUR?! This can’t be legal!” he squeaked, his eyes going wide.
“Don’t be dramatic, John,” Clay snapped, still gripping his arms tightly. “You can handle it! You’re tougher than this!”
“Is he?” Dr. MoonBloom said with a raised eyebrow, preparing the shots, placing them on a tray.
“Really?! WHERE'S THE SAFETY NET?!” John yelled desperately, trying to wiggle free, but his brothers held him tight.
“Let’s hold him down! It’s just medicine!” Clay barked.
“Come on, little buddy! You can do it!” Floyd encouraged him as his tail flicked nervously.
“I—I can’t!” John whimpered, beginning to sweat. “HELP! Floyd! HELP ME!”
The struggle was all-consuming, with John screaming and kicking, flailing his arms in an attempt to escape the inevitable.
“Hold him still!” Bruce commanded, and as they worked against John’s panic, one by one, Dr. MoonBloom delivered each shot. The moment the first one pierced his skin, John cried out, “OW! You have to be kidding me!”
“Just breathe!” Clay urged, trying hard to keep him steady. Branch clamped John's legs, as Floyd stood beside them, practically bouncing from anxiety.
With all four shots done, John tore from their grip the moment he was free, bolting out of the nurses' pod, desperate to get away from the needles and the chaos.
“What an idiot!” Branch exclaimed as he watched John sprint off.
“Come on! We need to get him back!” Bruce shook his head, exasperated but slightly amused.
“Forget it, he’ll wear himself out eventually,” Clay said with a huff.
“Yeah, but we can’t leave him like this!” Floyd exclaimed, his tail drooping again.
“He’ll be fine,” Branch reassured. “But he might need us to chase him down a bit.”
“Great. Just what I signed up for,” Clay grumbled.
As the brothers set off to find their eldest sibling, Bruce let out a soft chuckle. “Just like old times, huh?”
And with each step they took, the band began to come together again, a testament to resilience, even against the stubbornness of John Dory.
To be continued.