Runcita is going to lay my eggs. Well all I have to do is tell the Dean that the degenerate Dr. Terrible is hiding in his secret underground bunker by Conquer More Road on the west side of the island. Runcita will be my Queen. And I’ll describe to the Dean exactly where the bunker is and how the hatch to the bunker is cunningly disguised as an old dead tree trunk.
And then Dean Floop will capture that sonuvabitch Dr. Terrible. I don’t know exactly what Dean Floop will do to Dr. Terrible, but it will be bad. Very bad. But that isn’t my concern right now. Besides, I’m a Terrible and this is what we Terribles do. We act terrible. Isn’t that what Dr. Terrible is forever jabbering on about, anyway?
Yes sir.
Well one thing is for sure, Dean Floop is powerful enough to pull it off. He’s definitely got the juice to do Dr. Terrible in. Or Dr. Terrible wouldn’t have run off to hide. My grandpa wouldn’t have fled if he weren’t scared of what Dean Floop could do to him.
I can’t believe my good fortune. This is the stroke of good luck I’ve been waiting for. And as I squat here in the Dean’s lair, I don’t say anything. Because I want to savor this moment. Runcita will be my Queen after all. Even with these two stupid microscopic horns on my scaly green head, I’m going to get exactly what I want.
Because this is two birds with one stone.
“Now Gork,” the Dean growls. “Tell me, do you know where your grandfather is right now hiding?”
Then, while Dean Floop waits for me to answer his question, he immediately starts growling and gnashing his fangs.
Clack-clack-clack.
And even with his back to me I can see little sparks flying off the sides of the Dean’s monsterish green head from where his fangs are clacking together.
Clack-clack-clack.
Now as you can imagine, I’m feeling awful nervous squatting here. And since the monstrous Dean has his back to me I quickly check my breath to make sure it’s sufficiently disgusting. All you do is hold your talons under your beak and blow your breath up toward the old nostrils. And I feel a sense of relief when my hooded eyes instantly start watering because of the noxious odor.
My breath isn’t just bad, it could peel the paint off a wall.
Clack-clack-clack.
Because you see I want everything to be perfect. I don’t want to mess this up. I want to tell this dragon Dean Floop that my scaly grandpa is hiding in his secret underground bunker on the west side of the island. Then I want to put my crown on Runcita’s gorgeous scaly head and have her be my Queen for EggHarvest.
I mean I know how treacherous and fiendish this big evil dragon Dean Floop can be and so I definitely don’t want to do anything to set him off. That’s why I’m being so careful right now. Like I know during a conversation this scaly green bastard Dean Floop will sometimes grow so disgusted with a cadet’s answers that he’ll use his laserblade to disembowel the cadet right there on the spot.
Clack-clack-clack.
Other times Dean Floop will just blast a dragon cadet with a firestream and poof—the only thing left of you will be a neat little pile of ash on the floor. And it just so happens that right before I came into Dean Floop’s lair this morning, I saw a WarWings janitor exiting the lair with a dustbin filled with ash.
Clack-clack-clack.
So you can see why at this moment I’m being so careful with even the smallest of details. I don’t want to ruin my chances here of scoring Runcita as my Queen because of something small, like having good breath.
“Yes sir!” I say. “That’s good news, sir.”
“What’s good news?”
“Sir. What you said, sir. About your daughter agreeing to be my Queen. I would like to take your daughter Runcita to EggHarvest and for her to lay my eggs. So we can raise a Colony together. So that’s what I meant, sir. About the good news part, sir.”
“Well, son,” he growls, “if you want my daughter Runcita to be your Queen, then you’re going to have to give me Dr. Terrible. I need his location. By the way, Gork, why do you call him that?”
The Dean still has his back to me, and his tail is thrashing around. He gnashes his fangs.
“Call him what, sir?”
“Dr. Terrible.”
“I’m not sure I follow you, sir. What else would I call him?”
“Grandfather. You don’t hear Runcita calling me Dean Floop, do you?”
“I don’t hear Runcita call you anything, sir. I haven’t ever heard her speak, actually. Except in my dreams. Like last night she came to me in my dream. But she didn’t mention you in my dream, sir. No sir. What she told me was—”
“Answer my question, cadet.”
“Sir,” I say, squirting blacksmoke out my nostrils. “I’m not allowed to refer to Dr. Terrible as Grandfather. Or Grandpa, or Gramps, or Pa-Pa, or Pee-Paw, or anything like that. I have to call him Dr. Terrible.”
“And why is that, may I ask?”
“Sir, because Dr. Terrible says he’s my personal physician first and foremost. And my grandpa a very distant second! Or whatever number you consider to be last place, that’s what number being my grandpa is.”
“So Dr. Terrible has renounced his status as your grandfather, is that it?”
“I’m not sure, sir. I guess you could say that, sir.”
The Dean seems to consider this for a second. “So what would happen if you called him Grandfather?”
“Well, the last time I called him Grandpa I was eight years old. And as punishment, Dr. Terrible gave me the silent treatment.”
The Dean keeps his back to me. He gnashes his fangs. His tail is still lashing around.
“For how long?” he growls.
“For how long what, sir?”
“For how long did your grandfather Dr. Terrible give you the silent treatment?”
“For two years, sir.”
Dean Floop is silent. Then he shakes his monsterish green head and chuckles. “For two years?”
“Yes sir. He even timed it down to the second. With a stopwatch.”
“With a stopwatch?” he says, incredulously.
“He had a special stopwatch made for just this purpose, sir.”
“What do you mean by ‘special’?”
“Well sir,” I say, squirting blacksmoke out my nostrils. “He called it the Dr. Terrible Stopwatch. The stopwatch ran in increments of two years. The watch face was an image of Dr. Terrible’s scaly green head. On the back of the stopwatch was an inscription that said: I MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE. He made me carry the stopwatch around for the entire two years to remind me that I was responsible for my own misery.”
“Dr. Terrible gave you the silent treatment for two years? Just because you called him Grandpa?”
“Yes sir.”
“And you were only eight years old at the time?”
“Yes sir.”
“And your grandfather Dr. Terrible didn’t speak to you again until you were ten years old?”
“Yes sir.”
Even though he has his back to me, I can tell this monstrous dragon Dean Floop is impressed somehow. He’s not gnashing his fangs anymore, but his gigantic tail is still lashing around something powerful.
“Now Gork,” growls the Dean. “Of course you are aware that your grandfather Dr. Terrible blinded me in my eye less than twenty-four hours ago? I believe you were there along with the rest of the cadets?”