“Yes sir.”
“Now you are also aware, I presume,” he says, “that over the last few days I have been forced to execute seventeen cadets because of a series of events that originated with your grandfather Dr. Terrible’s experiments out at that confounded Institute of his? And therefore this whole mess is his fault. Because he wanted to be a show-off. Because he created that Evolution Machine. Or Evo-Mach 3000, or whatever it’s called. And then he held a press conference about it?”
“Yes sir.”
“You are also aware that Dr. Terrible has disappeared and he is considered a dangerous fugitive by the WarWings justice system. So I hope you understand my predicament. Because as Dean of WarWings I am charged with the duty of bringing Dr. Terrible to justice.”
“Yes sir.”
“So I’m not going to ask you again, Gork. Tell me where your grandfather Dr. Terrible is. Or you will not get to have my daughter as your Queen. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Gork?”
“Yes sir.”
Well at this moment I’m feeling super close and warm toward the Dean, like we are truly kindred dragons. Because we’re joined in our common enemy: Dr. Terrible. I am squatting here in the Dean’s lair and I figure that in many ways we are the same, the Dean and I. Because the ruthless Dr. Terrible has robbed the Dean of his sight in one eye. Dr. Terrible blinded him. And in a metaphorical way, my grandpa has blinded me, too. In the way that the big scaly green treacherous bastard has controlled me and deceived me and tricked me into believing things that aren’t true.
So as I squat here in the Dean’s lair it would really be impossible for me to convey to you how incredibly close I feel to him. Because we’ve both been blinded by Dr. Terrible. And because he is going to give me his daughter Runcita for my Queen. And because Runcita will lay my eggs. And inside each sacred baby dragon that hatches out of those eggs, there’ll be some of Dean Floop’s DNA. And there’ll be some of my DNA. It’s a cosmic connection, what the Dean and I have.
“Sir,” I say, “I’m real sorry.”
“What are you sorry about, cadet?”
“Sir. I don’t know where Dr. Terrible is, sir.”
Why don’t I just turn my scaly grandpa in? Why don’t I just tell Dean Floop that Dr. Terrible is hiding in his secret underground bunker over on the west side of the island? I guess my tiny shriveled heart’s torn. Because I guess even though I’m not Dr. Terrible’s biggest fan, I just can’t bring myself to rat out Dr. Terrible like that.
“Sir,” I say. “But I’d still like to ask for your permission to take your daughter to EggHarvest. Would you still be willing to help me with that, sir?”
“Excuse me?!”
“I’d still like Runcita to be my Queen. For EggHarvest, sir.”
I notice the lair has suddenly grown super hot and I realize by the sound of things that Dean Floop is breathing and huffing mega fire. Then Dean Floop belches up another thunderous firestream which rocks the lair and makes the walls quake, and this time the ground under my green webbed feet shakes and I have to raise my tail to keep my balance.
“Well clearly you are as dumb as your horns are short! If you can tell me where your grandfather Dr. Terrible is, then I can promise you my daughter’s talon as Queen. But otherwise there is no way my daughter will ever be your Queen! Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Gork?”
Now with all the added heat in the Dean’s lair, I feel a little bead of sweat trickle down under my left forelimb. Then I see the Dean lift his ugly green snout and take a couple of big suspicious whiffs, as if maybe he detects some new funk in the air.
“Yes sir. I understand.” I pause for a second before continuing to speak. Then I say: “Dr. Terrible figured you might say something like that, sir. And he told me to tell you that he would pull whatever strings he has to pull to prevent you from keeping me away from Runcita. Even if one of those strings just so happens to be wrapped tightly around your long green neck. Those were Dr. Terrible’s exact words, sir.”
Dean Floop’s tail stops lashing around and settles quietly on the floor.
“Is there anything else?” he says.
“Yes sir. I’m supposed to give you this.”
I hold up the envelope in my talon.
“What is it?!” he growls.
“My letter of recommendation.”
“For what?!”
“From Dr. Terrible, sir.”
“Come again?!”
“This is my letter of recommendation. Written by Dr. Terrible.”
“What is he recommending? And to whom?!”
“Me, sir. He’s recommending me. He’s recommending me to take your daughter Runcita to EggHarvest as my Queen. As to whom the letter is addressed, sir. It’s addressed to you, sir.”
Dean Floop whirls around to face me with blazing red eyes.
My horns instantly start tingling like crazy. And instinctively my toe claws shoot out and I raise my tail and crouch low on my trembling haunches and stay poised on the claws of my webbed feet, readying myself to flee. And judging by the twisted look on his black beak, I figure the Dean is going to fly over and rip my chest open with his fangs and eat my heart.
But really I should be able to judge what this psychotic dragon is up to by the way his throat muscles are contorting in his long green neck, like ropes being yanked into knots. And if I wasn’t so freaking terrified I could recognize the signs, but as it is the sonuvabitch catches me off guard.
Because suddenly the Dean flips opens his beak and fires a thin jetstream of venom at me and the venom whizzes thirty feet through the air. The venom flashes across the lair to where I’m squatting and I watch in horror as the tip of the venomstream appears to lunge at my beak at the last second.
And it nails me right in my scaly green chest.
Or it would have, anyway. Lucky for me I’ve always had a quick first step. Because I’m already crouched on the claws of my webbed feet and have my tail raised. So I leap to one side as the Dean’s venomstream hits the ground where I’ve just been squatting, and when the venom splashes on the floor it starts sizzling.
The maniac Dean looks at me crouched on the floor where I’ve landed.
I am panting and eyeballing the Dean in terror.
I wait to see if this deranged one-eyed dragon is going to shoot some more venom at me or what. And then finally he seems to relax a little, and he just snorts as if we’ve been playing a game and he somehow finds my style of play amusing. Now that big one-eyed dragon turns around in a leisurely fashion so that his back is to me again.
Somewhere in the lair I hear a creature whimper and drag its chains across the floor.
“Let me have it,” says Dean Floop.
“Have what, sir?”