Book Two Letter Two

My dear Smok,

          It has come to my attention that I have been choosificated to attendificate a secret war council meeting of the West. A group of dragons will pickificate me up tomorrow at dawn. This is so excitificating! I finally getificate to participatificate in a secret war council meetificating! Jellifications!

          Anyway, on the subject, I must ask you not to tell your other uncles. The letter I received specifically ordered me not to tell anyone, and I am already breaching this protocol by contacting you.

          Concerning your recent shenanigans: I am ashamed at your behavior at that party! For crying out loud, you offered the other adolescent dragons drinks, you courteously held the door open, you never badmouthed a single person! For crying out loud, that was the Western Traditional Rites Convention, and you didn’t do a single thing traditionally except breathe! And your fire-breathing, on that note, is awful. You placed 108^th in the fire-breathing contest, three places from last, whereas I placed 2^nd, only surpassed by Rexrei Wythwave, current leader of the West.

          Needless to say, you should publically apologize for your heinous behavior and go into penance serving Rexrei Wythwave hand and foot for the next six months! I am ashamed of you, Smok! How could you disregard your heritage in such a fashion?

          I pen these words in sorrow. I have failed my duty to you as your uncle, and have allowed you to be corrupted by that lump Semithino. I fear I may not be able to continue correspondence with you, what with your recent behavior and my new duties on the war council. Goodbye, Smok. Forever. I mean it. Not one more letter! Not a peep. This is my last sentence. Second to last. I’m not writing anything else!

          -Your serpentine uncle,

                   Scaligar

P.S. Did you hear about the drakes of Bootjaw? Apparently they raided the East’s coastline, searching for a mythical brown butterfly of the 4,000 syllables, and then returned to their homeland with as many coconuts as they could carry. I suspect Gargazath, when Trubodox was he, had something to do with this. I’m not writing ANY more, I promise! I’m done!