Dragons, Aliens and Females - At The Beach Part Two

Sound of fire crackling, hiss as logs are adjusted, wood added. Soft footfalls as alien returns to his seat in the sand.

[Gideon] “There, I think that should do it. Enough heat for you, sweetheart? I hadn’t expected to be out here until the wee hours of the morning.”

[Wikipedia Addict] “It took a while for the clams to--” Hiccup, muffled giggle. “S’cuse me. For clams to, uh…do clam stuff.”

[Gideon] “I assume you meant the baking. Considering we just ate something which had been entangled in bushels of ocean bottom plant life and subsequently buried, it wasn’t bad, was it? But perhaps you’d better slow down on the ale. It’s a little strong for humans.”

[Galvistor] “Yes, a fine brew, dark stout.” Sound of a long, loud slurp from keg. “A keen spirit--” Hiccup followed by resounding belch. “Beg pardon. Ambrosia—although I do not equate it to the favorite brew of my land, Zacra. The gods know no more delectable, pala—palatable, mouth-watering a flavor than Zacra.”

[Wikipedia Addict] “Za…Zappa? Like in Frank?”

[Galvistor] “Zacra, my dear human. It’s a very ancient recipe, modus operan—operan—uh— formula. Worth my weight in gold.”

[Gideon] “A pricey beverage indeed.”

[Galvistor] “Alcohol in its purest, clearest, most virtuuuuuous form.” The swoosh of a clawed foot being used as emphasis. Squeak of overturning beach chair, thump of chair and occupant hitting sand, human squeal. “Sorry again. Help her up there, Gideon, that’s a good alien. Ah, Zacra. Why, s’been known to lay even a Dragon low. Bring’im belly down.” Hiccup.

[Gideon] “That would explain much about your current position.”

[Galvistor] “A Dragon, not this Dragon.” Pause. “Oh, all right. There was one incident. Episode. Occasion, if you will, when I will admit to inebriation. Intoxi—toxi—I had a snoot full.” Deep chortle. “S’what led to Captain Sol becoming Prince Sol, don’t you know. Led’im straight to the--” Hic “-altar.”

[Gideon] “I guess getting him drunk must be more humane than driving him there at gunpoint.”

[Galvistor] Grumble. “I resent the--” Hic. “implica—suggestion. I wash never a part of the scheme, design, plan that resulted in the Captain and Princess Shaila’s taking vows! Least not that part of it.” Sound of another long guzzle. “That was good King Harrimore’s doing.”

[Gideon] “Are arranged marriages common in – whatever that place is called where you come from? I can’t imagine my…well, I don’t know many women who would put up with it.”

[Galvistor] “S’called the Kingdom of Abi—Ambistron, in the land of…what land is it?” Hic. “Ah—Isoh—Isoladia. Had to happen, you know. The Prinsh—Princess had no choice. Because once the Veil faded, fled, dissipa—dishipa—the darn thing went away!—all that outside violent filtered in. Everyshing—thing—went chaotic. Dishordered. Topsy-" Hic "turvey. Calm became aggression. Fisticuf—fisti—fights broke out. The King needed someone in charge who knew how to handle-" Hic. "the new shituation. Captain Sol suited. Most appropriate male around. A warrior, after all. He fit the bill. Sho to speak.”

[Gideon] “So did you or did you not get this poor soldier…plastered, I think is the word?”

[Galvistor] “Why, I whas innocently enscon—en—laying around the Zacra storage cave when the Captain came to me. I did not force Zacra down his narrow human throat. Of course, once he fell, plunged, went face first into an open keg, that was all she wrote.”

[Gideon] “He tried to drown himself?”

[Galvistor] “Course not! Sol ish not the shui—suicide type. The keg was open. He wash trying to get a drink. Not to say he wasn’t depressed. He wash. I was desh—depressed. Sho we joined forces. And drank. And drank a bit more.” Scuffling sound of dragon stretching out neck toward alien. “If I’m not mishtaken, you are deshpressed tonight, too.”

[Gideon] Long pause. “I’m…it’s a long story. What made you so sad?”

[Galvistor] “Females, of course. What elsh could lead a keen-minded Dragon to imbibe? Shwallow brew. Drink.” Hic. “My Riastor was castigat—casti—mean to me. Seemed to think I was shirking m’duty in naming our young. The Captain—he was confused. Wanted to return to his own land, don’t you know? But—there was the Princess. He’d not admit it, but the Captain was attracted. Drawn. In lusht—uh—lust. You’d know all about that, at leasht part of the time.”

[Gideon] Half moan, half laugh. “Trust me, those feelings follow me right into my Olam form. So you drowned your Captain’s sorrows, then. How did that lead to a marriage?”

[Galvistor] “He was tittering. Tottering. Shwaying most dangeroushly. The King had sent his daughter to the cellar to--” Hiccup and belch, flaming exhale quickly stifled. “Oops! Shorry, little Wi-uh-Wikeda Addit. Woke you right up, didn’t I? Never know what’s going to ignite the old inshendi—incendiary innards.”

[Gideon] “I imagine it was the four kegs of alcohol. You were saying?”

[Galvistor] “Ah, yesh. Yes. The Princess arrived to interrupt our gaiety, and the Captain—poor drunken soul—fell on her! Mosht indecorous! Indecent. Inappro—appropriate. Landed right between her legs. I’m most certain that, had he not been indish—indisposed, t’would have resulted in a premature mating! Ash it was, King Harrimore arrived, took one look, and was mosht upset. Well, perhapsh not really upset. Took care of the problem of making the Captain a Prince to inherit the Kingdom, did it not? A quick rite, marriage, shtand before the altar was required.” Another long swig. Lips smacking. Sound of keg being tossed, splintering wood. “Have you ever had shuch—such an interesting circumstance, old man? That ish, old alien? Old bright light?” Scuffling sound of dragon stretching out neck again, toppling sound of lost balance, human squeal. “Oopsh. Didn’t shee you there. I wash just about to ask your alien if he wash upshet because he hadn’t landed lately between his female’s le--”

[Gideon] Laughing. “Galvistor!”

[Galvistor] Hiccup. “You’re right. Correct. Mosht accurate.” Whispers loud enough to be heard halfway up the beach. “We need to do thish without the presence of a female. She ish already the color of King Harrimore’s bright red tights.”

[Gideon] “Sweetheart, you were dozing off, anyway. Why don’t you go curl up in my car? No, leave the chair and the rest of your things. We’ll carry them back as soon as the fire goes out. We won’t be too much longer. It’s that way, sweetheart. There you go. Keep the ocean on your left.”

Acquiescing murmur, sound of trudging footsteps fading off into the distance.

[Galvistor] “Ah. Alone at lasht! Two males engaged in male-only collush—collusion. Feel free, old light, to share all. Shpill the beans, lentils, seedpods—whatever your preference.”

[Gideon] “It’s nothing, really. It’s just that…” Long pause. “Alwynn’s Fire, why do women have to be so damn stubborn?”

[Galvistor] “Females are the bane of male existence. Whatever the sphec-uh-species. Wholly unreasonable. Unlike we males.”

[Gideon] Rises, irrated footfalls as begins to pace. “I chose Hannah because I thought she was sensible. Galvistor, I’ve had—well, there’s no need to go into numbers. Let’s just say I’ve sampled more than my share of Earth females. Long-legged, full breasted, lips that make a man want to--” Pause and sigh. “But I didn’t want a gorgeous woman. I wanted Hannah. You would think she would be grateful, wouldn’t you?”

[Galvistor] “Ummm. Perhapsh therein lays your difficulty. I’ve yet to encounter, meet, come across a female who enjoys admiration for their common shense. Sense. Females are too cogni—cog—aware of their own attributes. Shelf-centered, as it were. Unlike we males, who are ever about doing onto othersh.”

[Gideon] “Aware of her attributes?" Pacing resumes. "Well, you wouldn’t know that from looking at her. She dresses like she picks clothes at random. And you should see what she drives. For our first meeting, I precisely calculated what it would take to roll an ordinary vehicle to a gentle stop, right where I wanted it. Instead, her wreck of a van nearly caused a major highway accident. But is Hannah grateful I want to take care of her? No!”

[Galvistor] “Females like to think they can take care of themshelves. Ergo, they’ve no appreciation of things, actions, meashures done for their own good.” Sigh. “One moment, if I may?” Sound of another keg being broken open. A slurp, loud and long. “Princessh Shaila, in particular, will do things her own way. Your female shounds much the same. Unappreciative. Shtubborn!”

[Gideon] “You’re absolutely right. And not only was I doing it for her own good, I was trying to save her whole planet. And is she content? Of course not. She wants more.”

[Galvistor] “My profoundest shympathies. Uh, exactly what does your Hannah want? Need? Desire?”

[Gideon] “To have half the say in everything I do. Can you believe it? I’m an Olam, for Alwynn’s sake. Of course I’m more capable of dealing with the alien threat to Earth’s future than a human. My plan required someone like Hannah just to get it going, not to carry it out.”

[Galvistor] “S’no wonder you’re done with her! Good riddance. Fare-thee-well. A suitable dismishsal. Have s’more from this fresh keg.”

[Gideon] Thud as alien ignores the offer and sits. “Ordinarily I’d agree with you.” Long pause. “But now it’s become …complicated. Galvistor, now I need her.”

[Galvistor] “Need? As in want? Require? Have a compulsion for? Ummmm, indeed, that ish a preserved vegetable! Uh…marinated cucumber? No—I believe in your vernacular it is referred to as a pickle. Being in a pickle? Whatever. Perhapsh if you logically explain the inconvenience of her attitude she will seek to alter it?”

[Gideon] "Explain the inconvenience of her attitude? Oh I can just hear her response to that." Muffled snort. “I'd be treated to just how inconvenient I am. I know you mean well, Galvistor, but that wouldn't work on Hannah.”

[Galvistor] “Ah, well, been there, done that. When faced with an immovable object, obstinate entity, obdurate female, s’nothing left for a male to do but to engage in alcoholic conshumption. Wallow, as it were, in drunken companionship. Forget females for a time and indulge our robust male/manly/Dragon thirst!" Pause. "However, I mush note—you appear remarkably-" Hic "shober—uh, sober, non-intoxicated, straight brained, old light.”

[Gideon] “My human form can’t get drunk any more than it can catch a cold. My body just absorbs whatever nourishment it needs for maintenance.” Wistful pause. “Hannah once said I was doomed to be the eternal designated driver. She has a way of looking at things…” Trails off, deep sigh.

[Galvistor] “Then I shall cheer you up another way. Did I mention I shing—sing? Quite well, if I shay so, myself. Would you care to hear the shong I taught the good Captain?”

Clearing of a long throat.

“Ohhhhhh—ahem—” Cough. Another throat clearing.
“...Females, they are turbulent,
with tongues mosh often virulent,
Fractious, shurly, and defiant.
Aggressive, sullen, incompliant.
They attract ush like a flower—
a hungry fly-trap, sharp and dour!
They draw us in and then devour!
Oh, woe the male who can’t eshcape
that rounded breast, that scented nape.
That throbbing heart, so hot and callus,
they’ve got us by our dangling phall—”

[Gideon] “Galvistor!” Clap of hands over ears to block booming voice, choking laugh. “I don’t think we want to attract the attention of anyone else who might be out tonight.”

[Galvistor] “Oh…perhapsh it is a tad risqué for these environs. Interesting, though. If I recall, that’s exactly the point at which the Princess halted our revelry, too. Oh, well.”

[Gideon] “Why don’t we call it a night? Come help me kick sand over this fire.”

[Galvistor] “Quite right, you are. Dawn mush be shoon to break. However, let ush enjoy--” Hic “--a few more minutes of the shurf breaking. The cool breeze. The fire dying…I am quite comfort—comfo—” Snore.

[Gideon] “Galvistor? Galvistor??” Muttering in non-Earth language, stomping around, grunting shove at huge, inert body. Huge sigh. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea…”

Galvistor Interviews Gideon

[Galvistor] “Oh, ow! Uh, drat--!” Sounds of thrashing, cracking branches, and underbrush shaking. “Oops!” Loud crack followed by heavy thud. “Well…s’not as if that tree needed so many branches. How that alien expects a beast of decent bulk to make it through such a narrow, confined, arboreal-laden space—and he insisted my cave was too tight! I’ve a mind to—whoops!” Loud crunch of breaking glass, brief electric sizzle. “Ummm. That’ll teach him to reside in the middle of a dense forest and then line the path with landscape lighting. Plenty of stars to see by in any case. And I do have superior night vision.”

Heavy tread continues, accompanied by occasional snapping branch.

“I suppose I should describe the circumstances to you listeners, uh, readers…whatever it is you’re doing here. I am Galvistor, hero of several books and a mighty force onto myself. I am a Dragon, a thousand years old, of great physical presence and, if I do say so, a beast of peerless intellect and verbal ability. Oh darn! Wait…my wing is stuck…” Creaking of large branch, loud twang as it releases. “There. No tears, thank Gansur. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. If you read/reviewed/perused our last post interview, I was the one being digested via verbiage. An astute piece, that post. However, this time around it is I who am the interviewer. Question asker. Researcher into the mystique of the interviewee, who in this case is Gideon Cyrus. The alien, Olam, non-human, and subject of a superb tome himself. An interesting if somewhat puzzling being. He has more than one shape, you know, that of a human and that of a bright light. One word of advice, never sniff the light. It is a nose teaser extraordinaire. A nostril titillation. A mucous arouser!” Sniff. “However, it did clear my sinuses quite nicely. Ah—I see the house ahead.”

Tread picks up speed.

“I suppose it falls on me to describe the setting. Surroundings. Locale. The house wherein the alien resides appears to be quite large. Big. Very well, the bugger is a mansion. Esthetically pleasing, I will give it that. All white stone and glass—I think I shall remain at a goodly distance from it. Here on the far side of the swimming pool should do. My tail and glass are not companionable. Not in the least. No better way, in fact, to prove that two separate masses cannot exist in the same space at the same time. The pool is a mere toe-dipper to moi, but comfortable for human use. Ha—and there is the alien himself, in his human form, sprawled on a chaise by the pool. Relaxed as a boneless octopus.” Sniff. Sniff. “He smells of confidence, though. And something alcoholic. I’ll have to ask him about that…there’s his little Wikipedia addict and her computer. I suppose someone capable of typing has to take notes.” Speaks louder. “Gideon. Ciao, felicitations, howdy.”

[Gideon] Creak of chaise as occupant sits up. “Galvistor. At last. Any problems finding the estate?”

[Galvistor] “The coordinates you provided were accurate, and with my superior navigational abilities—”

[Gideon] “Good. Thanks for meeting at night. It’s no problem for me to travel at any time, of course, but you, on the other hand--”

[Galvistor] “Excellent idea. I, too, prefer privacy. Covertness. Seclusion. I used to move about quite freely, but in this current time and place I tend to stick out like a—“

[Gideon] “Beached whale?”

[Galvistor] Grumble. “Not my choice of analogy. However, it will suffice.”

[Gideon] “Care to come around the deck and join me? I was just having a glass of--”

[Galvistor] “Unfortunately, I’m teetering on the pool edge as we speak. A tad narrow rim to the thing and the trees are pressing my behind. I’d best settle here and not move. Besides, you don’t want my tail too close to your windows.”

[Gideon] “On second thought, you're right. Stay there.”

[Galvistor] “By the way, the suit you were wearing when I sniffed you in the cave—did it survive? Remain intact? Endure the offense? I did want to pay for the cleaning.”

[Gideon] “Ah, no, unfortunately I had to discard it. I couldn’t think how to explain to the dry-cleaner it was covered in dragon mucus. I have to maintain a low profile. Earthers don’t yet know that aliens live among them.”

[Galvistor] “Well, they are not always the most astute/shrewd/incisive of beings. Nowadays they don’t even believe in Dragons. S’not likely they would fathom the existence of off-worlders.”

[Gideon] “A few do, but the rest are willing to believe we’re the most ridiculous things -- weather balloons, swamp gas, even flocks of geese.”

[Galvistor] “I was once mistaken for a dirigible. Airship. Blimp. However, no one has ever accused me of being a goose. I cannot imagine how you could be mistaken for one, either. Your human form is quite solid. Your Olam form—well, it has no shape at all!”

[Gideon] Laughs. “A ball of light does tend to look a bit elastic. But we’ve been mistaken for meteors and flares. There was this one incident over Phoenix--”

[Galvistor] “Wait! Since we are discussing shapes, it behooves me to provide a brief description of your human affectation. For the record, of course.”

[Gideon] “That’s not really necessary—”

[Galvistor] “Indeed it is. I am the interviewer. As such my duty is sacrosanct. I insist. Are your assistant’s little fingers ready on the keys? Very well, for the record: Gideon Cyrus, in human form is approximately 1.8288 meters in height—”

[Gideon] “Six feet exactly.”

[Galvistor] “—athletic but sleek of build—”

[Gideon] “Requiring no bothersome maintenance on my part, thank Alwynn.”

[Galvistor] “—light of hair—”

[Gideon] “It’s called blond.”

[Galvistor] “—with…with…I’m sorry. What color are your eyes? They are simply too small a bit of your anatomy for me to decipher.”

[Wikipedia addict] Dreamy sigh as sound of keyboard tapping slows. “Blue as the ocean on a sunny day.”

Sound of alien and dragon turning to look at her.

[Galvistor] “Ah, well, yes…there you have it. Human manifestation appropriately recorded, registered, written. So, I am curious—do you masquerade as a human instead of taking on a superior form, such as that of a dragon, in order to fit in? Assimilate? Be absorbed into the populace?

[Gideon] “The nature of my solid form isn’t really my choice. I can be an Olam like my father or take on the shape of my mother, who in my case, was a human. There are rumors of very old Olam who can change into other forms, but as far as I know, it’s just a myth.”

[Galvistor] “Then you couldn’t become a Dragon if you wanted? A shame. But—cross breeding of species? I have never heard of such a thing!”

[Gideon] “For the Olam, it’s a matter of survival. We have no females.”

[Galvistor] “No females? How is that possible? How is that bearable? The mere thought shrinks my nether regions in sympathy.” Sounds of shifting to a more comfortable position. “Did they die? Expire? Fly the coop? Or do you reproduce like sporangium? Have there never been females in your species?”

[Gideon] “We have old myths – creation myths, I suppose you’d call them. I imagine you have similar stories about the first Dragons.”

[Galvistor] “Ha, no myth to it! Instinct deep in the cells and excellent historians have passed on our history. At one time we were a violent species, more brawn than brain I’m ashamed to admit—but we have always been normal, reproductively speaking. Fecund. Bountiful in birth. Except when we were isolated in a small territory. A long-lived species doesn’t over-produce when there is no way to expand. But…beyond those considerations, we have always had two genders. Why—for all that they can be exasperating—females are one of my favorite reasons for being male.”

[Gideon] “Mine, too. Well, once upon a time—so to speak—a species as powerful as the Olam attacked and destroyed our home world.” Self-depreciating laugh. “That’s why we know it’s a myth, because there is no species more powerful than the Olam. At any rate, supposedly the few who survived were unable to produce female offspring. We’ve wandered the universe ever since, making bargains with lesser species for access to their females and space on their planets to raise our families. That’s how the blasted agreement with the Interstellar League was reached.”

[Galvistor] “Interstellar League? What is this entity?”

[Gideon] “The governing body of this section of the galaxy. It gives us refuge and allows us access to mates, but we can’t interfere in any way with their policies. And, believe me, sometimes one should interfere with the League. Why, they think Earth is--”

[Galvistor] “Fascinating. Intriguing. But back to different species trying to…I cannot imagine. How would one…there must be some manner of physical negotiation/concession/compromise that enables one to—no, I won’t even try.”

[Gideon] “Best not to. It's enough to know that while I'm in my Olam form, I can't touch anything. One really has to return to solid form. I mean, can you imagine not being able to caress a woman? Or--”

Typing slows with quick inhalation and soft sigh from Wikipedia addict .

[Gideon] “Yes, er, where was I? Oh. Or not being able to caress…um…a lady dragon?”

[Galvistor] Sad moan. “The mere thought depletes me.”

[Gideon] “And sound waves—they’re positively painful. In my Olam form, if I didn’t consciously block sound I’d be able to hear everything for miles, from the humming in underground cables to the sound of your stomach digesting.” Pause. “Actually, I can hear your stomach digesting now.”

[Galvistor] Sound of claw rising to cover for discreet belch. “Sorry about that. I had a particularly pungent but savory ruminant mammal for supper.”

[Gideon] “A whole animal?”

[Galvistor] Clears throat. “A mere deer, my dear Olam. So, continuing in all frankness—you’ve lived on a number of planets and had a number of– ahem–encounters, reproductive engagements, done the naughty with different females?”

[Gideon] “'Done the naughty'?” Chuckle. “I’ve experienced many different females, but they’ve all been human.” Pause. “Although I’ve had my doubts about the current lady in my life. If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d suspect she was Brostinian, she’s so stubborn.”

[Galvistor] “Having been exposed to a number of stubborn females myself, I can empathize. Then you don’t travel? I cannot imagine not flying if one has the ability.” Sound of stretching wing, branch snapping. “Oops. Ah, next to my lucid tongue, my wings are my favorite parts. Well, except for…you know…the part that likes females.”

Typing halts with embarrassed clearing of throat from Wikipedia addict.

[Gideon] “Yes, well, we probably should leave off discussing specific parts for now. Actually, um, an Olam can’t turn fully into his energy form until adulthood, and I am something of a late bloomer. I haven’t had the opportunity to leave orbit yet.”

[Galvistor] “Ah. Well, at least this world isn’t boring. Not as beautiful as mine, I must say, but humans are much the same everywhere—aggressive, inquisitive, stubborn, resourceful, and not without their loyalties and their idiosyncrasies.”

[Gideon] “That’s true. Life on Earth is sometimes chaotic…but always interesting.

[Galvistor] “Still, if you can’t fly, that must curtail your activities. At least from a Dragon’s perspective. Viewpoint. Outlook. What do you do?

[Gideon] “For my first century and a half, I learned everything my mentor, Joshua Cyrus, could teach me. Which is considerable, since like you, he’s several thousand years old. And I’ve handled his wealth – being on a planet for so long allows one to make very long-term and profitable investments. I’m rather good at making money, actually. Now I have a new mission, but I can’t really go into detail about it here.”

[Galvistor] “Why not? Such discourse would enliven the quality of the interview.”

[Gideon] “Unfortunately, it must remain a secret. The Olam have only one penalty for breaking their laws.”

[Galvistor] “Ah, they’ll roast you alive.” Wispy sound of smoke trickling from nostrils. “Of course.”

[Gideon] “Actually, energy forms are hard to barbecue. I’m not sure what would kill me and, honestly, I’d rather not find out.”

[Galvistor] “I quite understand. Not a subject close to my heart, either. Death. Surcease of the life force. Cessation of breath. Entering the great beyond. Passing, moving on, going into the light—”

[Gideon] “Got it. And with that, why don't we call it a night? I don't know about you, but I’m a bit thirsty. I’ve just finished a glass of excellent wine. Would you like one?”

[Galvistor] Sound of dragon perking up. “Do you have ale, perchance?”

[Gideon] Sound of empty glass being placed beside chair, chaise creaking as alien rises. “Would Guinness do? I have a keg on tap in the pool house.”

[Galvistor] “Stout.” Sound of lips smacking. “That would do quite nicely. A keg, you say? Perfect…but then, what will you drink?”

[Gideon] “I can stick to the wine. The ale is right in here…” Crunching sound. “And I’ll get me another wine glass. No, don’t come any further. Please.”

[Galvistor] “Pour something bracing for our Wikipedia addict. She is still a most alarming shade of pink.”

[Gideon] “Ah. Consider yourself off duty, sweetheart.”

Feminine sigh as laptop snaps closed.

[Gideon] “Galvistor, perhaps if you came around to the other side of the pool house we might have easier access to that keg. That’s it. No, don’t go through the hedge…” Sigh. “The gardeners are not going to be happy tomorrow. Watch that tree, it’s got a low--”

Mighty crack from branch, muffled curses. Heavy tromping as voices fade out.

Gideon Interviews Galvistor

[Gideon] “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for joining us for our first formal interview. We hope to have many more as we introduce you to the inhabitants of our diverse worlds.

“Tonight I’ve moved from where I usually dictate my half of this blog, my own very comfortable study, in order to accommodate our first interviewee, my fellow blogger, Galvistor.

“We are in…well, there’s no polite way to put this. I’m perched on a rock in a cave. A very hard rock in a very damp, dark, and cramped cave. I’m sure your imagination can fill in the details of darkness and dampness, but believe me, I am going to need to tell you why this cave is cr--”

Muffled curse, scuffling and several odd thumps…

“Sorry about that. We’re having to make a few adjustments, because as I was about to describe, tonight’s guest is a bit large and I was sitting in the wrong spot. Had to duck a tail. Um, the tail of our guest, not someone who’s following us. Although I imagine any number of people might follow us, if they saw what I’m seeing now. Galvistor, you are…there’s not another word to describe it except magnificent.” …coughes… “Shiny black scales, great gleaming claws…very nice, uh, jaw tendrils. I wonder, however, about that trickle of green-tinted smoke snaking from your nostrils…” more coughing… “Could you do that a bit less, just for a while? This body’s only human.”

[Galvistor] “Apologies. Just a little internal combustion, heat, temperature regulation, if you will, to warm my gullets. The last time I visited this cave it was drier. Next time I shall assess the situation prior to suggesting a location for our meeting. There you are, the smoke is suppressed, contained, restrained to a more environmentally friendly level.”

[Gideon] “Thank you. And thank you for pausing in what I’m sure is a busy schedule for this interview.”

[Galvistor] “Yes, yes, and thank you for accommodating my requirements, needs, requests.” Muffled exclamation from interviewer as huge claw whooshes through air to tap against scales… “You can see why I find human habitats a tad restrictive. Restraining. Limiting. I don’t recall this cave being quite so tight. But then, my mass has increased since then.” Sound of wing scraping against ceiling… “S’not as if one can consciously oppress their body parts.”

[Gideon] “Actually…but we’re discussing you. Would it be correct for me to assume, from your appearance, that you are a type of reptile?”

[Galvistor] “Am I a reptile? Well, yes…and no. Rather, I am at the higher end of the evolutionary scale of that particular Class of Creature. You know, of course, the Classifications, having studied human-kind as you have?”

[Gideon] “I’ve never spent much time stu--”

[Galvistor] “Animalia, Chordata, down to the Class of Reptilia…the Order however, that is where we Dragons made our bold move toward being beasts of uncommonality.”

[Gideon] “Uncommonality? ”

[Galvistor] “Isn’t that a word? Of course it is! I said it, didn’t I?”

Sound of tapping on a keyboard.

[Gideon] “My assistant has Wikipedia up and she can’t seem to--”

[Galvistor] “How rude! Well, if it’s not in the dictionary, it ought to be! In any case, we are the Order Dragonis…”

More keyboard tapping.

[Gideon] “Ah, shouldn’t that be Order Dragonia?”

[Galvistor] “Yes, yes, I know most Order groups end in an “a”, but did I not say we strive for uncommonality? Difference? The unusual? What other beast can you speak of, expound on, discourse about that has wings and tail and claws and a superior verbal capability all rolled into one?”

[Gideon] “Have you ever met an Xatrobrian? Although I’m not sure if they have wings under their armor. For that matter, I guess no one would consider them verbally skilled. Or even verbal.”

[Galvistor] “A what? Never heard of it. Where does this creature reside, live, linger in residence?”

[Gideon] “On a very hot and swampy planet. I narrowly missed being sent there once.”

[Galvistor] “Well, should I ever endeavor to reach such a rather severe sounding habitat, locale, place I’ll look the beast up. Although I am disinclined to visit swamps. Nasty places, bad smelling. And with my superior olfactory system, I know bad smells when I encounter them.”

[Gideon] “You have impressive nostrils, I must admit. I’ve never seen any quite like them.”

[Galvistor] “Indeed? Don’t get out much, do you? Meanwhile, I digress. My fellow Dragons and I are of the Order Dragonis, without an ‘a’, which sets us decidedly, assuredly, without fear of exaggeration, apart from all other reptiles. Princess Shaila, the heroine of my books, once referred to me as a ‘begetter of toads and snakes.’ A recalcitrant female, the Princess, but that is a whole other discussion.”

[Gideon] “I know exactly how you feel.”

[Galvistor] “Do you? At another time, that will be a delightful dialogue. In any case, I informed the Princess in a very firm tone that toads are wholly unrelated and that a snake’s evolutionary path is much lower, lesser, fundamentally unrelated to such as I.”

Abrupt silence.

[Gideon] “Galvistor? Why are you staring at me like that?”

[Galvistor] “May I ask, with all due respect, deference, esteem—exactly what Classification do you fall under?”

[Gideon] “I don’t believe there’s a classification for the Olam. Are your eyes sensitive to very bright light? No? Then if you like, I can change for a moment into my real form.”

Faint humming sound, followed by a pause…

[Galvistor] “Fascinating! If I may…” Sucking sound of huge inhalation. “Oh dear…ah, ah, AHHH—” Eardrum-shattering sneeze. “Oh.” Sniff. “Bless me. No one else will.”

Short pause, followed by faint, damp hum. Human sigh.

[Gideon] “I suppose I should have anticipated that.” Sound of damp splat followed by low muttering. “One does not sniff an Olam. And my suit--”

[Galvistor] “I do beg your pardon. It's instinct, you know. Impulse. Nature. One simply has to take a little sniff in order to, well, evaluate a being. You have an interesting smell, at that. Rather energetic and crisp, like stratospheric ozone. Can that be dry-cleaned? The suit, of course, not the smell.”

[Gideon] Another sigh. “Perhaps we should change the subject. I’m sure the members of our audience have read other books containing creatures who call themselves dragons and they must have misconceptions as to the true nature of your type. Are you really as violent as we’ve been led to believe? For instance, have you ever been in a fight?”

[Galvistor] “There was a time when I would have resented the implication that I would lower myself to engage in a fight. A brawl. A clash of wills. However, times change and one changes with them. I hesitate to discuss my last fight—or the one before that. No fond memories to either one. Life changing circumstances, both--”

[Gideon] “Life changing circumstances are often the most interesting.”

[Galvistor] “Very well, I will tell you of those, but all in good time. Probably not today. One should begin at the beginning, I suppose. My first fight—ah! An interesting tussle more in line with my intellectual nature. Not that there wasn’t some physicality as well. If one must call it a ‘fight’, it came about because that sneak thief Azurstor had the temerity, nerve, impudence to filch a deer from my forest.”

[Gideon] “You have a forest? Then why are we stuffed into this cave?”

[Galvistor] “Well, alright, the King’s forest. But I’m responsible for it. During my brief sojourn outside the Veil, some of the other Dragons apparently thought I was gone for good because they began snatching, stealing, looting deer and who knows what other food beasts from the forest. I caught Azurstor—”

[Gideon] “Wait. Slow down. The King? The Veil? Who did you say is Azurstor?”

[Galvistor] “Azurstor is the blue Dragon that flies for the Kingdom of Roberyll. The only claim to fame for that small realm is that it contains The Only Sea. At least the only one in Isoladia. Where was I?”

[Gideon] Pause. “Hunting deer?”

[Galvistor] “Ah, yes, the blue thief was caught in the act! I had no recourse, choice, option but to attack. Well, what can I say? I wasn’t quite myself. The air outside the Veil had skewed my thoughts toward a more violent and most unnatural nature. I tore the reprobate’s wing. Stalled his flight in a most satisfying manner.”

[Gideon] “And then you ate him, of course. So the whole sacrificial virgin dietary requirement is just a myth?”

[Galvistor] “Virgin? Sacrifice? Great God Gansur—what a distasteful thought, and totally without merit. No, I did not eat the rascal! One does not consume a species of equitable intellect, no matter how aggravating they are. One certainly does not consume their own species!” Pause. “You don’t, uh, do such a thing, do you?”

[Gideon] “In my Olam form, I don’t even eat.”

[Galvistor] Sniff. “Ah. You have my most profound sympathy. Well, moving on. I did injure Azurstor, but I saved him from a nasty fall. A thousand years of civility, after all, are entrenched in my bones. Afterwards the disgusting creature had the gall to deny his culpability. Guilt. Fault. We had a marvelous oral encounter at that point.”

[Gideon] “Just a moment. Are you telling me all you did was rip his wing and give him a good scolding? What kind of fight is that?”

[Galvistor] “Verbal, my good man. Or…whatever you are. We engaged in a copious, profuse, bountiful exchange of words. Would you care to hear a few of our most memorable exchanges?” Silence. “I shall share them in any case. Do you good to learn from a master. Let me see…ah yes: I called him a ‘rapacious reptilian maggot’. To which he replied by calling me a ‘macrosomatous lizard’. I returned with a ‘miasmatic makebate’, and he countered with ‘mephitic megalonisic’. I got him one up with ‘microsephalic malefic medivor’, and he shot back with ‘mangy mordac—”

Sound of frantic keyboard tapping.

[Gideon] “I’m afraid my assistant has Wikipedia up again.”

[Galvistor] “Busy little fingers, aren’t they? Very well, but if you must please look the words up later. Otherwise we’ll be here all night! In any case, that’s as far as it went. Princess Shaila and Prince Sol—of course, he wasn’t a Prince at that point—interfered. Interjected themselves directly into the fray.”

[Gideon] “By…?”

[Galvistor] “Why—she yelled STOP, and of course, we did. I am civilized, after all. She is my Princess. To hear is to obey.”

[Gideon] “The women of Earth would adore you.”

[Galvistor] “I don’t do everything she tells me. But I try to be reasonably responsive, as suits the occasion and wisdom of the request. To do everything she requests would require that I clone my mighty self. And that I take leave of my phenomenal senses as well. Which I refuse to do. I suppose you have engaged in your share of physical encounters?”

[Gideon] Pause, followed by a laugh. “I suppose mine have been mostly verbal as well, with a few exceptions. But we should leave those stories for another time. You need to stretch your wings and Iwould like to get out of these wet clothes. But thank you again for volunteering to be the subject of our first interview.”

[Galvistor] “Oh, give it no second thought, consideration, reflection. Of course you wanted to interview me. Who would not, superior being that I am? How could I not but volunteer? In any case, you’re on the hot seat next.”

[Gideon] “Hot seat?”

[Galvistor] “Just a little jest, joke, heated humor. I’ll not be setting flame to a rock—or a chair, if that’s your choice of seat next time around. The flames tend to dry me out in any case. Speaking of which—I’m in the mood for an ale. A libation. A cold one. Care to join me, partake, tie one on?”

[Gideon] “I would, thank you.”

Sounds of equipment being gathered, shuffling feet and claws.

[Galvistor] “Not here, of course…oops. Sorry. Gotta watch the tail. So, let’s have that ale, after you dry off, of course. And bring along the little Wikipedia addict. The computer, however, isn’t invited.”

Voices fade out.

And now from the...er, Alien

Alwynn's Fire, that's a wordy dragon. Hello, I'm Gideon Cyrus...at least that's the name I'm known by on Earth, where I happily spend most of my time these days. Honestly, you have no idea how strange some of the other planets can be, even for an Olam like me. Rude lizards and cannibalistic spelunkers and...well. Just a while ago I almost had to move somewhere else, and it reinforced my appreciation of the finer things one can acquire in a few hundred years of living incognito on this planet, even if lately I've had to expend considerable effort trying to outwit the arbitrary rules set down by my own species.

I'm not fond of being known as "the Alien" - if you ever meet my friend Brost, you'll see I'm the normal one - but that's the role I've been cast in by one of the owners of this blog, who has JUST NOW informed me I'm expected to make regular appearances. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. After employing her to write the latest book of my memoirs, which she insisted should be called Undercover Alien, I consider her a master of procrastination. I know she's trying to make up for it by letting me dictate my contribution so I don't have to sit still long enough to type it myself, but is it really so important to--

Ah. She's pointing out that I left the small matter of saving the Earth until the last minute. But you see, although I'm an Olam and have powers which can boggle the human brain, I wasn't quite myself at the time. And then there was this fascinating, frustrating, female ufologist who I really thought was going to help me... *Sigh*. Perhaps we'd better drop the subject. Let me focus on this job before I get myself into trouble again.

I suppose I need to meet my fellow blogger, Galvistor, since we're going to be sharing this space. Why is it that everywhere I turn, I keep running into people who think I want to be around reptiles? Is a dragon a reptile? No doubt Galvistor will have a word or two (or three or a hundred) to say on the subject.

I'll let you know.