I’m suddenly worried that I might start crying.
And for a second there, I see a look come across the Mutant’s monsterish scaly green face on his belly. And I can tell he feels pretty low-hearted for what he just said to me, that he actually pities me. Which just makes me feel worse. I mean you know you’re in bad shape when you’ve got a headless Mutant feeling sorry for you.
You can sense that the dragon is thinking:
What’s the point of me treating this freak like this just because everybody has treated me like this my entire life? Having suffered like him, shouldn’t I be more inclined to show this dragon mercy and compassion, and not perpetuate the cycle of violence?
You can see him thinking:
Has my life filled with pain taught me nothing?
“Well,” says the headless dragon, his voice softening, “maybe not everybody at WarWings knows about you. But you see, Dr. Terrible’s my physician. He’s working on my evolution. He’s the one that put this face right here in my belly. Before Dr. T came along, I had no face. I was deaf and blind and mute. Somehow he managed to make me grow my very own face right here in my belly. Dr. Terrible is a miracle worker!”
“Dr. Terrible is a jerk. Dr. T, you call him Dr. T? That’s so lame! Does that T stand for ‘Thing’? Is that because he’s Dr. Thing?”
“Don’t talk about Dr. T like that! You’re just an ungrateful little bastard with horns to match!”
“Hey,” I bellow, “how can you sit here and dump on my horns when you don’t even have a head? You think Dr. Terrible’s so great because he made you grow your scaly face in the wrong place?! Why didn’t he grow you a head instead?”
By now the headless dragon is clearly boiling over with rage, and he’s definitely seeing lava. He gnashes his fangs and sparks are flying off of them.
It’s probably actually a good thing this fool doesn’t have a head. Because as worked up as he’s getting right now, if he did have a head it would probably pop right off.
“Speaking of horns!” I shout, flapping my wings. “My horns may be small, but at least I got some. If Dr. T’s so great, then why doesn’t he help you grow some horns?!”
“He did, you idiot!” he roars. “Dr. T did give me horns, you fool!”
Then, as I’m glaring down at the dragon’s monsterish scaly green face in his belly, the weirdest thing happens.
Two giant black horns shoot out of his chest.
The horns are right above the Mutant’s yellow eyes and they come flying out so fast it’s like one second they’re not there and then the next second they are. Like a switchblade.
Thank goodness I’ve got a quick first step.
Because I leap back just before the tips of those horns gouge the air where I’ve just been squatting. And if I was even a half step slower, I’d right now be impaled on this Mutant’s horns, dangling with my green webbed feet off the ground. No doubt.
The Mutant grins up at me. He uses his talons to point at the horns sticking out of his chest.
“Retractable. Dr. T built me these retractable horns! And trust me, these things are built to last!”
I’m just squatting here in shock.
Retractable horns?
How the heck did Dr. Terrible give this maniac retractable horns?
The headless Mutant clenches his talons into fists and booms: “You know what? Before I met you I was having a bad morning but now I’m feeling much better. I’m going to enjoy tearing you apart limb from limb. I’m going to break you down so bad that even Dr. Terrible won’t be able to put you all the way back together again!”
As I stand here eyeballing this demented Mutant working himself into a frenzy, I believe him. I can feel it in my bones that he’s telling the truth. He really is going to tear my scaly green ass limb from limb. And not even Dr. Terrible will ever be able to put me back together again.
Remembering that just a few minutes ago I saw Runcita here in the Dining Hall, I take a couple whiffs but can’t detect her scent signature in the air. Now squatting here in front of the treacherous Mutant, I wave my snout back and forth but still can’t get a whiff of Runcita. And with a sinking heart I know then that she’s already left the Dining Hall. I take a couple more whiffs and realize that I’ve inadvertently become an expert at detecting this particular fragrance.
If this particular fragrance were a perfume then I’d call it A Room Where Runcita Once Was But Is No Longer.
“What’s wrong with your snout?” sneers the Mutant, staring up at me with his insane scaly green face. “Why do you keep sniffing around like that?” He sniffs the air. “Is it me? Do I smell funny or something?”
A tiny smirk plays across my beak.
“Hey,” he says, “what’s the big idea, wise guy?”
He cocks his fist up. And there are some things that are just more than a fella can reasonably take. And at this particular moment in time, the prospect of getting my sorry tail beat to a pulp by this headless Mutant bastard is one of them.
So I do the only thing I can think of at the moment.
I unfurl my leathery wings and fly my scaly green ass out of there.
Thwack-thwack.
[ 29 ]
FRIBBY IN THE LAVA LOUNGE
Where I am right now is the Lava Lounge.
This is where Fribby told me to meet her.
This is Ground Zero for the Datalizards. As I peer around at the stylish walls covered in oozing lava and the skulls and bones covering the floor, I’m all of a sudden thinking that maybe me rolling in here solo wasn’t such a hot idea. But I can’t try to turn around now. Because I know if I bolt for the door, well then some ghastly chrome-flex bastard will pounce on my ass and there’ll be a feeding frenzy.
Robots can smell your fear, just like Normals.
They get off on it.
Everywhere I turn, there’s a robot cadet glaring at me with freaky red glowing eyes.
Some of these fiends are sitting at small circular tables with their silver tails twitching over their heads, and others are perched on stools at the LavaBar. Just straight glowering. My horns are tingling like crazy. A couple of these bastards clocking me are gnashing their fangs, spraying sparks out their metal beaks. I am a tiny green speck in a sea of silver. My scaly green ass sticks out like a sore claw in here. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, given that they got a No Normals Allowed policy, but still.
So I’m crouched down low on the tips of my toe claws and my tail’s whisking around behind me, in case I have to make any lightning-quick moves.
Breathe, Gork. Just breathe.
That’s it. Nice and easy.
Fribby has to be around here somewhere.