Book Two Letter Forty-One

My dear Smok,

It has come to my attention that I hear that you have had somewhat of a falling-out with my brother Trubodox. Clumsy sentence structure aside, I hope you will accept my utmost gratitude for distancing yourself from your less than desirable relations. My brother Trubodox is not a dragon to befriend; rather, he is one for you to use to your advantage in exchange for the occasional Christmas card.

I am glad that you have chosen to move to Higard as I have suggested, Smok; the real estate there is quite fabulous and the view is spectacular. I know that moving must seem very odd to you at the moment, but it is like most things in life: once you’ve gotten it over with, you feel like you’ve been smashed in the head with a golden banana while Yovians crowded around your limp body cheering for their favorite foosball teams. Don’t worry; the point is that you’ll get over it with minimal injury.

In the event that you are still courting Limmie the Mildly Cute, I suggest you lay out bear traps in the event that her sister attempts to interfere with your next date. A private sniper team on the roof of the restaurant will work just as nicely.

However, be warned. If you invite Limmie to your cave for dinner at some point, make sure to give her the proper address. It would be quite a disaster if, as you are waiting at your new cave with the dinner ready to go, Limmie finds herself at the doorstep of a disgruntled new homeowner on the coast of Aolia. Trust me; the dragon who bought your house, Bobbickus the Extremely Annoyed/ing, is known for getting very crazed over unexpected visitors. He’s grumpy and frumpy, if you know what I mean. Just make sure not to confuse the address, all right?

Now for a choice of dish for your supposed dinner at your cave. If you wish to attempt the cooking yourself, please attend a seminar. Males are not prepared for such eventualities and most of the time the dinner ends up a disaster when they are orchestrating the event. Attend a seminar. Or, take my advice and get a professional gourmet cook. I suggest Bubolox the Bum. Despite his lazy reputation, he is quite the chef, and he knows his soups (probably because most of them originate from his patent-pending magical armpits).

Now, on to important matters. I have hired a repair team to refurbish my cave. They are working now on the aftermath of the drake horde incident. The attacks took quite a hit out of my cave and the surrounding lands, I tell you; I am thinking about releasing Xelle from my services. Having her around, while a luxury, brings along the occasional horde of drakes. Already I see a little gaggle of them, perched a few hundred feet outside my cave waving protest signs. An example of their messages would be: “GUV US UDBILBDU BACK ARR XULLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Dang, they’re back.

My refurbishment crew is pretty tough, though. One such dragon, the ringleader, is named Thraishus Kassfire. I have no idea what Kassfire is, but the dude has a giant skull with a black eye tattooed across his chest. Don’t ask me how a skull could get a black eye. I don’t want to know. I hear from local gossip that Thraishus Kassfire is so tough that he lives out in Frizid and eats yetis just to work up an appetite for breakfast. That would explain why that species haven’t been troubling dragons in a while.

-Your serpentine uncle,

SCALIGAR

P.S. What does he eat for breakfast?

P.P.S. Whales, perhaps?

P.P.P.S. Watch out in Higard. I hear that Skarrtath the Sinister has recently taken some property there. Needless to say, he’s sinister. Very sinister. He’s sinister, so sinister that he’d tear your sinister sinisterness right out of your sinister sinister. That’s sinister.

P.P.P.P.S. What’s bigger than whales, I wonder? Thraishus needs lunch, too...

P.P.P.P.S. Don’t even mention brunch.

P.P.P.P.P.S. Or dinner.

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I like P.S.’s.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. P.S.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Okay, if you’re still reading by now, then your ping-pong table has obviously malfunctioned. Well, if you have a ping-pong table. Either that, or you’ve got no life. Like me!

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I love not having a life.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I can do this all day.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. befiubfiuebbfiufbubfuiebfeuibeuibfecuebifueubffefbeyfevfyy TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Okay, gotta go.