But I know for a fact that Velch doesn’t even remember doing it to me. Because to a mega Jock like Velch, I’m just one more piece of ThrashBait to be trampled on and then forgotten.
Now whenever I pass Velch in the Central Campus corridor you can see in his yellow reptilian eyes a vague flicker of recognition, as if he’s trying to place me. But in the end he can’t and he doesn’t really care anyway and then he just keeps on walking. And I don’t know which part is worse: the fact that he forcefully held my scaly head underwater in the toilet and gave me swirly horns, or the fact that afterward I wasn’t even worth remembering.
“First-period classroom!” shouts Velch.
This time I don’t even bother to try and hit the brakes. I come charging up onto the teleportation pad like a runaway train and nail Velch from behind.
Ker-pow!
For a split second, it feels like I broke my wingjoint. When you drop a plate and it hits the floor and shatters, that’s what my wingjoint feels like.
But I shouldn’t be complaining. Because between me and Velch, he definitely gets the worst of it.
When my wingjoint hits Velch’s back, I instantly feel the air go right out of him, and he gasps, “Ooooompf!”
And then he goes soaring up into the air.
I know what you’re thinking, and trust me I agree this isn’t the nicest thing for me to have done. Rear-ending this Jock Velch like that. And I can tell you that definitely isn’t my style on a normal day.
Which of course my grandpa Dr. Terrible would tell you is part of my problem. That I am not ruthless enough. That in terms of my family heritage I’m a complete failure, because I have serious WTP deficiencies. Because my horns are way too small. Because my heart is grotesquely large and sensitive. And because of my problem with fainting.
I mean I’m sure if it were up to Dr. Terrible I would spend every single day smashing dragon fools from behind, one right after another. Until there was no one left standing but me. Especially certain degenerate scoundrels who held my scaly head underwater in the toilet.
But this morning I am seriously desperate because I have to find Runcita before some other knucklehead gets to her and offers her his crown and then asks her to be his Queen for EggHarvest. So all I can say in my defense is that when I ram this fella Velch from behind, I am listening to my black heart.
My jumbo-sized heart is guiding my scaly ass through the madness.
And of course there’s no arguing with the heart, because the heart is the highest law there is. No matter if that heart is twisted and tiny and evil, or if the heart is hideously deformed and huge and sensitive.
Now after I crack into this big nasty Velch, he goes flying off the teleportation pad and zooms a good thirty yards through the air. But it’s not like he’s got his wings spread or anything. Because if you want to know the truth, this fool is dead weight in the air. Even his tail is limp.
Although at some point Velch must get part of his wind back, because as he’s soaring through the air he shouts, “Nooooo!”
And then clank!
Velch hits his monsterish green head against Rexro’s Safety Cage and crumples up in the lava pits and rolls over on his back like an insect with his hind legs up in the air, groaning, “Oooohhhh!”
The other cadets here in the lava pits who’ve been standing in line for the Telo-Device explode with laughter. So all of a sudden I find myself squatting alone up here on the Zap Pad and my scaly green ass probably looks pretty pathetic. Because it’s not like I’m in great physical shape or anything.
When it comes to my physical conditioning, well that’s where my nickname came from. It’s another gift from that scoundrel Dr. Terrible, the gift that keeps on giving. Out at the Institute, my grandpa is always harping on me about how he’ll stop calling me Weak Sauce when I grow a pair and get some WILL TO POWER.
And by grow a pair, he means a pair of horns.
Well now I glare at this tyrant Rexro in his Safety Cage and shout, “Runcita! Where’d you just zap her to?! Was it her locker? Or her first-period classroom?”
“You know I can’t give out that kind of information! It’s against regulations!”
“You better press that button and zap me in next to Runcita right this second!”
“Forget it!” he booms, his voice crackling over the intercom. “I ain’t going to lose my job for no two-bit peckerhead like you!” Then he studies me out here on the teleportation pad as if he is really just seeing me for the very first time, and now he’s taking the full measure of my essence. And then he snorts, “Especially with them little itty-bitty nubs you got stickin’ out your scaly-ass head!”
At the mention of my piddly horns, all the cadets behind me hoot and roar with laughter. Then they start chanting, “Weak Sauce! Weak Sauce! Weak Sauce!”
Now my black horns start tingling like crazy, which can only mean one thing: imminent danger. Because your horns are way smarter than your brain. Because your horns can see what your eyes can’t. Well things definitely aren’t looking so hot for me at the moment. And suddenly I’m starting to feel a little doubtful about my whole campaign to try and get Runcita to be my Queen.
Maybe I am Weak Sauce.
I’ve already used a ton of WTP and all it’s got me is a bunch of public insults from Rexro and the laughter and jeers of my fellow cadets gathered behind me. I feel the old weakness and doubt settle into my bones.
And so I think to myself:
Maybe I just need to lower my standards.
There’s that one senior chick everybody calls Peekaboo who aside from the fact that she’s got three eyes actually has a pretty hot bod. Now the reason the other dragons call this chick Peekaboo is because she wears this golden tiara which drapes down and covers her extra eyeball in the middle of her scaly green head. But aside from that third eye, in the plus department I know she’s got a WTP score somewheres around ScalesOfMenace, which is pretty darn respectable. Especially considering my measly Snacklicious.
And I’ve seen Peekaboo glancing at me plenty of times in class. And when I catch her looking at me then she’ll smile and I’ll smile back at her while trying hard to forget that she has a third eyeball tucked away behind that low-hanging tiara. So if Peekaboo were my Queen and we landed on a foreign planet in order to start a Colony, well the natives would never know her nickname was Peekaboo. And we could just give her a new name.
And yes of course I’d be worried that when our little dragon chicks hatch they might come out of their eggs with three eyes. But you know the truth is that no matter how careful you are in life there’s always going to be some element of risk, thank you very much.
So all this stuff is flashing through my scaly green dome while I squat here on the Zap Pad. And meanwhile this deranged bastard Rexro is just glaring at me from his cage. Now as these loser thoughts balloon inside my skull and I come to terms with yet another personal failure, I can feel my giant heart fill with resignation.