I love it when folks ask that question...
ON THE NATURE OF ZOT!
"What actually happens when a zot happens?"
Are you sure you wanna know?
Ok. The rest of you, I thought you might find this amusing. Here y'go:
The first thing that happens is that the troll's daddy and its other daddy feel that "special way" about each other.
Then, about nine months later, the stork does a flyby of the expectant parents - but not just any stork, no... this is a SPECIAL stork. A leprous, blighted, tattered, pus-dripping noxious braindead zombie stork, bearing its bundle of oozing misery - the gurgling drooling idiotic leftist democratic meatpuppet we know as the "troll".
Then, some decades later, when the troll matures (should I say, instead, "ripens"?) to the mental age of three, some benevolent but misguided soul shows it how to operate a net-linked computer when the circus freakshow keeper is not paying attention.
In a virtual case of water (though "water" is not precicely the fluid I mean) seeking its own level, the troll automatically finds its bumbling way to that hot-spot of all drooling retards, democrappicundergrown.compostheap.
The troll is so delighted to at long last be among wits of its own base level that it dissolves in a feculent bubbling mass of outgassing putrescence. When it re-coalesces in its new blighted environs, it takes the form and function best suited to the Elite Masters of its race - the mindless slobbering sightless clammy-fisted eunuch known publicly by many names (Deaniac being one, Clintoonista another, and a more recent species called a JKoff) but known privately to their owners as "useful idiots."
These useful idiots are spewn forth like the gibbering overflow of a well-used and fermented satanic port-o-let, to contaminate, stain, and stink up the more wholesome and cleanly realms of the internet, so that the great old ones - Cthulhu, Nyarlathotep, and the Unmentionable One (Teddy Kennedy) among them - can spread their glandered dominion ever farther.
Such purulent squamous masses soon or late wash up upon our shores.
They invariably burble their flatulent war cries.
This sudden gust of methane and stinks of less describable nature rouse the denizens of this fair land to wrath and vengeance.
Cruel and merciless warriors known as the Viking Kitties descend upon the hapless blob of noisome jelly, gashing it with barbs of wit and pith.
Such martial valor alerts the Almighty Mods of this land.
Jove thunders.
Lighning strikes! (ZOT!)
Methane emanations ignite!
And they detonate, flashing into an expanding pink mist of DUh.
There you have it, then. The short (and postable) version.