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…”

Dragons, Aliens, and...Clams?

Sound of surf breaking, susurration of waves washing in over beach and back out again. Approaching thuds of heavy, sand-muted footfalls and rasp of dragging tail.

[Galvistor] “Gideon, my alien friend, pal, companion in verbal exploitation--I am gratified by your invitation.” Deep sniff. “I love the beach! The smell of damp sodium chloride, the crunch of exoskeletons underfoot, the splash of aquatic vertebrate beyond the surf…”

[Gideon] Approach of lighter tread, moving quickly to catch up. “Did you say ‘squash’? Because I think that thing under your right claw is, or was, a--”

[Galvistor] “Splash was the word, my dear alien. As in splatter, spray, get wet. As for what I trod upon—it was simply an abandoned husk, a mollusk discard, a crustacean cast-off. Not to worry. Nothing viable dwelled therein.”

[Gideon] “In other words, an empty shell. Just for tonight, Galvistor, do you think you could try not to talk like a professor teaching erudition at a prep school? It would make it easier for my assistant to keep up if things were a bit less--”

[Galvistor] “Scholarly? But I am a scholar. I am an erudite! Of course my dialogue is superior. All of Dragonkind—well, at least most of us—engage in advanced wordage.”

[Gideon] Heavy sigh. “Never mind.”

[Galvistor] “Oh, all right! If you’re going to be disgruntled about it—call everything what you will. After all, a fang by any other name is still a ‘tooth’—but more simplistic terms lack passion. Ardor. Zeal. I will speak as I must. She’ll simply have to interpret; after all, isn’t that what Wikipedia is for? One cannot simply slough off the nature of their language, idiom, tongue-waggle anymore than they can disengage their skin.” Pause. “Present company excepted, of course.”

Long silence, as dragon, alien and human walk along beach together.

[Galvistor] “Ummmm…forgive my acute astuteness, old man—that is, old alien—but I perceive there is more to your less than animated demeanor this evening than mere annoyance at my advanced vocabulary.”

[Gideon] “I’m fine.” Trudging abruptly pauses. “Ah...thank you for bringing all of this down from my car. When I was trying to think of a place which might be comfortable for us both, I’d forgotten what a long walk this is.”

[Galvistor] “Don’t give it a second thought. I don’t mind pulling the wagon load of clams and beer kegs at all. Hardly notice it with my astonishing strength.” Muffled thud, sound of creaking wheel being pulled out of a depression in the sand. “It was most kind of you to order enough to satisfy my hearty appetite. Which,” Sniff. Sniff. “amplifies in the sodium—uh—salty air.”

[Gideon] Alien footfalls slow on a wistful pause. “You should see it during the day. Perfect blue sky, sand like crystal sugar. Waves rolling in, sliding out, rolling in again…”

Human footfalls hesitate.

[Galvistor] “I agree, it would be nice to be able to come out here in warm sunlight. I always enjoyed a sunning by The Only Sea, myself…but I appreciate, value, understand the necessity of a night sky. Darkness has its own charms. No worry of bombarding gulls or sunburn—”

[Gideon] “The warmth of scented lotion in your hands, rubbing it onto soft, smooth skin--”

Human footfalls stop. Quivering sigh.

[Galvistor] “Well, uh, I don’t use lotion, you know. An unappreciated commodity in the Dragon world. The sun doesn’t bother my scales, but I have been known to suffer a bit of a scorching to my jaw tendrils—oh, here!”

Thump of dropped wagon tongue, several thuds of heavy body pivoting. Mighty tail swish followed immediately by high-pitched feminine squeal.

[Gideon] “Alwynn’s Fire, watch what you’re doing! You almost sent her face-first into that pile of rotting seaweed.”

[Galvistor] “Oops! Sorry. The old tail gets away from me when I get excited. But—is this not the perfect spot for us to sear a bivalve mollusk? Partake of a seafood barbecue? Have a clam bake?”

[Gideon] “I guess if you don’t want something more sheltered, it’s—”

[Galvistor] “Wide enough to accommodate my bulk—and my tail if I tuck it around—and your own comfortable sprawl. The Wikipedia female can set her little chair right there. Shall I attend to the repast?”

[Gideon] “Please. I don’t have the slightest idea what to do with it. When I have an urge for clams, I usually ask the waiter bring a cup of chowder.”

[Galvistor] “Then allow me.”

Sounds of digging and spraying sand. Scrambling of human and alien rapidly pulling back from the brink. Male cursing and sounds of feminine distress as both dodge raining sand.

[Galvistor] “Oh—sorry. A tad too deep. Cavernous, if you will. Don’t know my own strength. But then—hellooooooooo.” Deep snorting chuckles. “A fine echo!”

[Gideon] Muttering under his breath. “This is going to be impossible to explain to the beach patrol.” Sound of rapid typing. “What, sweetheart? Oh.” Muffled snicker, then louder voice. “Galvistor? Do you think you can impersonate an extremely large pregnant sea turtle?”

[Galvistor] Snort of disdain. “Sometimes, my dear alien, your humor is skewed. Very well, I’ll fill it in a bit—” Sounds of shoving and padding of sand. “There, a perfectly adequate fire pit. Oven. Sandy crock-pot. I might as well obtain some fuel, too. I see an excellent piece of wood…” Voice and thumping footfalls fade out.

[Gideon] “Did he say he was gathering driftwood? Oh, for Alwynn’s--that’s against the rules. This is a public beach and he’s a--”

[Gideon’s assistant, aka Wikipedia Addict] “Really big dragon?”

[Gideon] Sound of hands rubbing face. “You’re right. Let the patrol deal with him, if they’re foolish enough to confront him. He's not my responsibility.”

[Wikipedia Addict] “Sir?”

[Gideon] “Even an Olam gets tired, sweetheart. Hand me that beach towel, would you?” Sound of body flopping down on sand. Deep groan. “I should have postponed this meeting with the Dragon to discuss our next blog. Or cancelled altogether. There are just too many differences between us to make even a setting like this work.”

Rapid approach of something very heavy being dragged.

[Galvistor] “This should do quite well. Nice and dry. Brittle. Devoid of moisture.” Sound of something rolling, a loud thud. “Ummm, it would have fit better into my original pit…”

[Gideon] “Where in all the Guilds of Etokia did you find a whole tree?”

[Galvistor] “You exaggerate. S’not a complete tree at all. Most of the branches are missing. Absent. Gone astray. But if you insist…” Stomping, sounds of crushing, ripping wood.. Swish of tossed wood. A splash. “There. Easily reduced in size. Now, for a little heat…”

Deep intake of breath, swoosh of spraying flames. Fiery explosion.

[Galvistor] “Whoa! Drier than anticipated!”

Loud cursing in multiple languages not found on Earth. Feminine yelp and sound of body being rolled in towel.

[Galvistor] Sniff. “I smell burnt hair. Uh—little Wikipedia Addict, I believe your eyebrows are singed.”

[Gideon] “A lot of her is singed. No need to blush, sweetheart, I’m just putting out embers on your blouse. Here, let me take off my shirt so you can put it on…you have to sit down? There you go. Galvistor, have you lost your mind?”

[Galvistor] Offended tail swish. “How rude! You needn’t be insulting! Impertinent. T’was an accident, after all. S’not as if I would purposefully harm a human, you know.”

[Gideon] “You do realize being fried by a dragon is not in her job description?”

[Galvistor] “Next time, dear girl, I shall bring something in recompense for my clumsiness. A nice jewel. Or a golden Mail Hawk quill—quite nice those quills. Perfect for dipping into ink wells. Give you a break from typing that hard keyboard.” Low grumble. “As for you, surly sir—my first perception of your mind-set was correct. Accurate. Right on. Obviously something other than me is affecting your reason. I’ve but one thing to say about that—it’s time to break open a keg.”

To be continued...