In no particular order...

1. People asking if I'm housebroken.
2. People who don't ask, but examine the sidewalks instead. (Don't think I don't notice.)
3. Bagpipes, especially Faerie bagpipes. They were invented to drive off dragons, you know. Not sure why they were invented here.
4. Zombies. You know the feeling you get when you reach into the fridge for some tasty leftover and discover it's gotten molded and decayed? Now imagine how you'd feel if it then got up and wanted to eat you.
5. Monotony. The greatest penance I ever did was spend a couple of decades doing the same thing over and over. I do not know how Mundanes on assembly lines keep their sanity. Bring on the robots, I say.
6. Having to be diplomatic with people. I'm a dragon; diplomacy should be what happens to me.
7. Lack of common sense. I understand that common sense isn't as common as most people think, and lack of common sense results in my getting employed--and thus fed. Still, it annoys me.
8. Soap operas. I will never understand the draw of watching convoluted made up shows of other people's angst. Frankly, if people lived like that in Faerie, they'd get tied to a tree with "Dragons: Free Lunch" written over their heads.
9. Miniaturization. The new cell phones are hardly the size of a human ear--do you know how hard it is to get one I can listen to and speak in at the same time? And the buttons are getting so small, I have to have a sharpened claw just so I can press one and not four or five.
10. Limiting myself to 10 of anything. I'm an eternal beast, created at the beginning of the world. You have no idea how many things annoy me.

Fortunately, I'm a mellower dragon than I used to be. Once upon a time, I'd just flame whatever was bugging me. Kind of like scratching an itch, but with better pyrotechnics.

Got a comment today on MySpace from Elm Smith saying it was a pity I couldn't fly. She'd have paid for that.

St. George did take away my flight, along with my fire, my size, my healing abilities, my knowledge and most of my magic, he gave me the chance to earn it back. Think of it as a kind of Holy Indentured Servitude, if you like. I certainly have now and again. Still, it's been a fun gig, and--pardon my well-deserved pride--the Faerie Church has been able to do a lot of great things with me that it could not have done with its human congregation.

Case in point: how I got my fire back.

In the Faerie New World, the Aztec empire rules Central America and follows the Catholic faith. That, for the most part, is thanks to me. The Pope had assigned me to join the exhibition to the New World. I had made some progress from my original post-George state. I had some of my knowledge and healing ability and a smidgen of my magic, but I was still only about 4 feet when sitting on my haunches. Cortes, not a tall man himself, seemed to delight in that. By the time we reached South America, I'd figured my purpose was just to make him feel good about himself--something I thwarted at every opportunity, incidentally. Don't know about your Cortes, but ours was a pompous, conceited, posturing windbag.

Perhaps, then, you won't find it surprising that upon meeting the natives, he made a big speech about how our God was so strong, it would allow him to pit his lowly pet dragon against Quetzalcoatl and win.

Now Quetzalcoatl was the God of the Faerie Aztecs. He'd fought his way to the top of the demigods and defended his position for hundreds of years. Given my current state, it was definitely a David against Goliath. And I didn't have a slingshot.

The details of the fight aren't important for this blog. However, at one point, I had Quetzi's leg clamped in my jaws--my fang was stuck, if you must know--and instead of scrabbling me off, he clamped onto my leg with his claws and climbed about a thousand feet up. Then he managed to push me off.
I tumbled down at 32 feet per second squared, with prayers, shrieks, thoughts of how much pain I would be in and plans for getting back at Cortes rushing through my mind. I spread my wings, hoping to at least slow myself--
--and I was soaring.

I could have just taken off, then and there, nursed my wounds and come back later to inflict some on a certain conquistador, but I didn't. I rejoined the fight, found my own version of a "slingshot" and defeated the Great god of the Aztecs. Seeing their deity defeated, they converted (I'm making it sound easier than it was) and thus Faerie's history turns out less bloody than Mundanes.

I'll tell the whole thing to Karina sometime. Right now, she's busy with that Catholic Writers Conference Online. Looks like fun. I may make an appearance.

For the record, while I can fly, I only give rides in special circumstances like when we're on a case. And, like it says at the top of my website, I charge extra for that.

Karina just let us know our case, "Amateurs" is going to be included in the anthology Distant Passages by Double-Edged Publishing.

This story appeared in The Sword Review a while back. It's still one of my favorites. Anytime Grace and I get to thwart an uppity goddess and contribute to some dimension's Biblical history counts as a good time to me. Too bad I had to lose my pretty dragon stone in the process. Oh, well. There are worse things.

Swimming Kangaroo has contracted with Karina to write another of our adventures. Like the Mensa Convention, this one was fun--in retrospect. Evil Overlords, diabolical plots, romance, magic and technical gadgets, and a puck or two.
Live and Let Fly will come out in late 2009, probably about 6 months after Magic, Mensa and Mayhem. I'm hoping after that, Karina might take on some of our more serious cases, but we'll see what pays. (She likes to eat as much as we do--well as much as Grace. No one likes to eat as much as I do.)

We've finished a glossary to go with Magic, Mensa and Mayhem and will start going over details of the case next week. Still looking at an early 2009 publishing date for it.

Found this from loyal friend Theresa.

They're made of Meat
I think some of us Magicals have had the same experience. Of course, we have to live with you. Nicely done. I tip my fedora to Stephen O'Regan and his cast and crew.

St. Patrick's Day always makes me introspective.

I never met him. During most of his life, I was in Africa, recovering from the concerted efforts of some very nasty dwarves who decided they wanted my cozy home. (Yeah, it was their mine, but they'd left it. Possession is more than nine-tenths of the law where a dragon is concerned. Unfortunately, they disagreed and they had numbers, lots of axes and a good knowledge of which tunnel to collapse on top of me. Not amusing--but that's a different story.)

Anyhow, St. Patrick and I have some things in common. He was captured, taken from his home and forced to serve a cruel master until he ran away six years later. Yet those years gave him the tools he needed to return to Ireland and minister to the inhabitants and convert an entire people. Now he's one of the most popular and beloved saints of all time.

I, too, have been captured and coerced into serving God and Man though the Faerie Catholic Church. (Come on, you didn't think I gave into George willingly, did you? Our battle lasted weeks--the proverbial 40 days, in fact.)

Now, I'm not saying the Church has been a cruel master. I'm certain I've had far more comfort than the good saint. Nonetheless, while it's been a fun gig at times, there's been more than once that I've had the urge to run off--and a few times, I have, but I come back. God's got me between Peter and Conscience. (Think a minute--you'll get the joke. And if not, go here*)

Interestingly, St George himself didn't know why he captured me, converted me into a not much more than a good looking Gila Monster, and forced me into servitude. He was compelled, driven by the Will of God. I don't always acknowledge that, but like I said, St. Patrick's Day makes me introspective. Still, the point is, God wanted a dragon in the employ of the Church. I've done a lot and learned a lot--stuff that I'd never have bothered with as a free dragon. I gotta wonder, though:

Someday, God will free me from my magical bonds. But what's He got planned for me afterward? Is he preparing me for something more?

St. Patrick, I pray for you today and ask that you pray for me.

And tell George I said, "hey."

* A Rock and a Heart's Place

Karina just let us know our case, "Amateurs" is going to be included in the anthology Distant Passages by Double-Edged Publishing.

This story appeared in The Sword Review a while back. It's still one of my favorites. Anytime Grace and I get to thwart an uppity goddess and contribute to some dimension's Biblical history counts as a good time to me. Too bad I had to lose my pretty dragon stone in the process. Oh, well. There are worse things.

Got a comment today on MySpace from Elm Smith saying it was a pity I couldn't fly. She'd have paid for that.

St. George did take away my flight, along with my fire, my size, my healing abilities, my knowledge and most of my magic, he gave me the chance to earn it back. Think of it as a kind of Holy Indentured Servitude, if you like. I certainly have now and again. Still, it's been a fun gig, and--pardon my well-deserved pride--the Faerie Church has been able to do a lot of great things with me that it could not have done with its human congregation.

Case in point: how I got my fire back.

In the Faerie New World, the Aztec empire rules Central America and follows the Catholic faith. That, for the most part, is thanks to me. The Pope had assigned me to join the exhibition to the New World. I had made some progress from my original post-George state. I had some of my knowledge and healing ability and a smidgen of my magic, but I was still only about 4 feet when sitting on my haunches. Cortes, not a tall man himself, seemed to delight in that. By the time we reached South America, I'd figured my purpose was just to make him feel good about himself--something I thwarted at every opportunity, incidentally. Don't know about your Cortes, but ours was a pompous, conceited, posturing windbag.

Perhaps, then, you won't find it surprising that upon meeting the natives, he made a big speech about how our God was so strong, it would allow him to pit his lowly pet dragon against Quetzalcoatl and win.

Now Quetzalcoatl was the God of the Faerie Aztecs. He'd fought his way to the top of the demigods and defended his position for hundreds of years. Given my current state, it was definitely a David against Goliath. And I didn't have a slingshot.

The details of the fight aren't important for this blog. However, at one point, I had Quetzi's leg clamped in my jaws--my fang was stuck, if you must know--and instead of scrabbling me off, he clamped onto my leg with his claws and climbed about a thousand feet up. Then he managed to push me off.
I tumbled down at 32 feet per second squared, with prayers, shrieks, thoughts of how much pain I would be in and plans for getting back at Cortes rushing through my mind. I spread my wings, hoping to at least slow myself--
--and I was soaring.

I could have just taken off, then and there, nursed my wounds and come back later to inflict some on a certain conquistador, but I didn't. I rejoined the fight, found my own version of a "slingshot" and defeated the Great god of the Aztecs. Seeing their deity defeated, they converted (I'm making it sound easier than it was) and thus Faerie's history turns out less bloody than Mundanes.

I'll tell the whole thing to Karina sometime. Right now, she's busy with that Catholic Writers Conference Online. Looks like fun. I may make an appearance.

For the record, while I can fly, I only give rides in special circumstances like when we're on a case. And, like it says at the top of my website, I charge extra for that.

Swimming Kangaroo has contracted with Karina to write another of our adventures. Like the Mensa Convention, this one was fun--in retrospect. Evil Overlords, diabolical plots, romance, magic and technical gadgets, and a puck or two.
Live and Let Fly will come out in late 2009, probably about 6 months after Magic, Mensa and Mayhem. I'm hoping after that, Karina might take on some of our more serious cases, but we'll see what pays. (She likes to eat as much as we do--well as much as Grace. No one likes to eat as much as I do.)

We've finished a glossary to go with Magic, Mensa and Mayhem and will start going over details of the case next week. Still looking at an early 2009 publishing date for it.