Monday, May 6, 2013

Book Two Letter Eleven

My dear Smok,
It has come to my attention that the situation in Semithino’s cave is escalating. Unfortunately, I was delayed from going to help your uncle out, because I received a certain gift from one “Blizzdiblundikuss” that put me into critical condition for two days. Say hello to your uncle Trubodox for me; I believe Blizzdiblundikuss was his wall adornment from his time in the sanatorium. Needless to say, I shall be concocting my revenge.
On the subject of Rexrei Wythwave, I have received a letter from him recounting various details about his recent tour of Higard and how he feels about it. I am afraid his mind has been swayed; now he tells me he wishes to move to Aolia, where you currently reside! I quickly wrote back and cautioned him against such an endeavor, making up a story about how small and puny the population is, and how the only food you can get there grows on trees.
Of course, this was a twisting of the facts, Smok. The real reason I don’t wish for him to go there is that I still have high hopes of your becoming a great, and with Rexrei in the province, you would be sadly overshadowed by his ominous presence and would not achieve legendary status very easily.
Yes, Smok, despite your being swayed by Semithino in recent times, I have decided to give it another go and try to mentor you back into tradition. I will not have you terrorizing humans if you don’t want to; however, I do think a few tips on certain things are in order.
First off, I was appalled by your fire-breathing performance at the convention. You did awful! You’re out of practice! You’re almost as bad as Fungosockus of Low Repute was when he was still alive. And let me tell you, when you’re that bad, you absolutely stink. Even Eastern dragons would mock your current physical shape and mental ability.
So, I’ve prescribed a breathing practice routine to help you along with the development of your skills. Firstly, every morning when you wake up, go out to the sea and plunge your head underwater for as long as you can hold your breath (although, do keep in mind that if other dragons see you, they may prank you by shoving you down for an extended period). When you come up, instead of breathing in, try to breathe out a burst of flame. If you can manage it, breathe that for as long as you can. Once that is done, breathe in all you want, and relax because you’ll feel pretty dizzy. Take a break for a few minutes and then go check your mailbox because you never know when I might send you a letter.
Second tip: order a bottle of Respiratory Revitalizer (trademark) from an old friend of mine, Methuselah the Miracle. He’s an old yellow dragon who lives in the mountains at the very edge of the Western continent, but he doesn’t charge for shipping. Anyway, it’s a mixture of quite a few things, some of which are quite disgusting, but the potion does work. Just fill the lid of the bottle to the fill line, gargle it in the back of your throat for thirty seconds, and then breathe fire outward, making sure that you are pointing your head toward the sky of course. It creates quite the spectacle, as the liquid is quite flammable, but it also helps exercise your furic lung so that you have an excellent fire-breath.
Third tip, eat monkey brains! I’m just messing with you, Smok. Do not, under any circumstances, engage in foodstuffs composed of the cerebral cortex of any primate with a prehensile tail. Or is it “utensil” tail? I forget. You know, monkeys live in the deep South, way beyond Yovi, where the unmentionably crazy dragons reside. And that’s the only place they live, I believe. Never, ever, ever go there, because the kinds of dragons you’ll find there...well, suffice it to say that they are somewhat worse than you could ever imagine. Just think of a wall. A regular wall, maybe red brick, or perhaps wood, but normal. Simple. Regular. Now think of a multicolored polka-dot striped wall with two ringing alarm clocks for eyes, a half-eaten banana for a nose, and three pairs of six-legged drunk toucans acting as the mouth. That’s the difference between Yovians and the dragons of the deep South.
Now how did I get to that topic? And why is Xunt dancing on the ceiling and throwing—I think I have to go.
-Your serpentine uncle,


P.S. I’m sorry, Smok, in the heat of the moment Xunt grabbed my quill while I was temporarily incapacitatificated and—well, you see what he wrote. Anyway, I’m not going to bother to rewrite the letter, so just ignore it.


  1. I wonder what the gift was?

    And I wonder what the pumpernickel is wrong with Xunt.

    Oh, and those last two paragraphs (before Scaligar's signature) were awesome. xD

  2. LOL (and yes, I was actually laughing when I typed that XD).

  3. Thanks Leilani and Tasia, though it wasn't me that wrote this particular installment. I have, however, previously read it and nearly wet myself.