Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
A dragon. Could it be true? It seemed crazy to even contemplate. However, a normal reptile couldn’t talk. Couldn’t do half the things Tigger did.
Still… You’d think if dragons actually existed, and could speak, that there’d be some kind of mention of them online.
Search as I might, using a combination of terms—Do baby dragons have wings?
Can baby dragons talk? Dragon sightings.
What does a real dragon look like? Are dragons hatched in magma?
—I couldn’t seem to find confirmation of anything Tigger said.
In turn, that led to me questioning my own sanity.
Had Tigger even spoke? I’ll admit, by the next morning, I’d convinced myself I’d dreamed the whole thing until he stretched in my bed and said, “Woman, I’m hungry.”
To which I replied, “What’s the magic word?”
“Now.”
“We spoke last night about being polite.”
“Ugh. A dragon shouldn’t have to beg.” Such disgust in the tone.
“Not asking you to beg, but a please would be nice.”
“Fine,” he groused. “Please get me some food.”
Close enough. I rose with Tigger clinging to my pajama top. I pried him off. “I have to use the washroom. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” Didn’t seem right to do my business in front of him now that he’d shown sentience.
I spent only a few minutes in the washroom, yet when I exited, I found Tutu and Tigger engaged in a staring match. My grandfather sat at his usual spot, paper drooping, glaring at Tigger perched across from him.
“I see we’re off to a pleasant morning.” From the fridge I grabbed eggs, cheese, and some leftover vegetables to make omelets.
“That thing seems to think it can wander about wherever it wants,” Tutu grumbled.
“First of all, Tigger is not an it, but a he. And since he lives here, I don’t see why he shouldn’t have free run of the house.”
“That creature belongs in a tank. I don’t want to be stepping in lizard shit.”
I cracked the eggs into a bowl. “That won’t be an issue. He’s potty trained.”
A reply that made Tutu snort. “Sure, he is. Have it your way, then. Don’t be getting mad, though, if the door gets accidentally left open and he runs off.”
“As if I’d run when I could saunter majestically,” Tigger scoffed.
Tutu’s eyes bugged out so far they almost hit the table. “That isn’t funny, Iolana.”
“What isn’t?” I asked cautiously. I’d heard Tigger, but the question was, had my grandfather?
“Throwing your voice to make it seem like your reptile spoke.”
Relief! Not crazy after all. “That wasn’t me. Tigger can talk.”
“Impossible,” Tutu exclaimed, his face red with annoyance.
“What seems more improbable is the fact that the chair you’re sitting in hasn’t broken.” Tigger cocked his head. “Must be quite a feat of engineering.”
The statement dropped my grandfather’s jaw for more than one reason. “Did you just call me fat?”
“I would have said heavy, which indicates this is a household that knows how to eat well. I hope to soon be even larger than you,” Tigger declared.
“You’re actually speaking.” An utterly stunned Tutu leaned back in his chair.
“So are you. It’s called having a conversation. I swear, humans are dumb. It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long.”
Figured I’d come across a dragon lacking in manners.
“You really going to insult me before I feed you?” I asked, holding the plate with his portion aloft.
“You might be the exception,” Tigger conceded. “Now gimme!”
I arched a brow.
“Please,” he spat out.
“Good boy,” I stated, setting the plate down in front of my drooling reptile.
Tutu folded his paper and set it aside, still frowning. “Lizards don’t talk.”
“No, they don’t,” Tigger agreed, grabbing hold of his fork. “But I’m not a lizard.”
“Then what are you?”
Tigger couldn’t reply because he’d crammed his mouth full of omelet, so I answered for him. “Claims he’s a dragon.”
“Awfully tiny for a dragon, and he’s got no wings.”
Tigger took a second between bites to say, “Because I only recently hatched. Keep feeding me and you’ll soon be in awe of my physique.” More of the eggs went into his mouth.
A calculating look dropped over Tutu’s face.
Uh-oh.
I shook my spatula at him. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop right now.”
“Do you know how much he could be worth? I mean, he would have fetched a pretty price simply for talking, but if he’s a dragon… We could be rich.” No surprise, Tutu saw the financial benefit.
“We are not auctioning Tigger off to a rich dude.”
“Why not?”
“Because, for one, he’s a thinking, feeling being. And two, I wouldn’t want to see him locked away in some menagerie to be gawked at. And three, I found him, he’s mine.”
“Ahem, you seem to have forgotten you belong to me,” Tigger interjected. “The big one, too, even though I’m not sure what use he’ll be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tutu leaned forward with a scowl.
“While you have a gift for complaining, as a servant, you don’t seem to provide me with any benefit.”
“I pay for this house and the food on the table.”
“But Iolana is the one caring for this shack and the one in charge of the meals. As your heir, if you were to disappear, she’d inherit.”
“Going to kill me?” Tutu’s sarcastic rejoinder.
“I might, but not yet. To truly benefit from your death, I’d need to be bigger or else I’d be wasting too much meat.”
“You’re going to eat me?” Surprise hued Tutu’s exclamation.
I’d never heard my grandfather use that high-pitched tone. Then again, he’d never been threatened before, which led me to getting involved in their verbal spat. “You will not eat my grandfather, Tigger.”
“I won’t if he shows his worth.”
“You won’t because we don’t eat people, period.” I wagged my finger at him.
“But they’re so tasty.” A low whining reply.
“How would you know if you were just born?”
Tigger tapped his temple. “Because my inherited memories say so. Humans rank first in flavor, followed by bison, cattle, sheep, then porcinis.”
“Maybe back in the day your mom chomped on people, but you try that now and you will be put down.”
“You would kill me?” Tigger slapped his paws to his chest.
“Not me. We have laws, and they say no killing. And when it comes to animals doing it, there’s no trial either, usually just a bullet or lethal injection.” I wasn’t entirely sure of that, but I wanted to put a stop to that kind of talk right away.
“I don’t think I like this modern society.” Tigger sulked.
“On that we can agree.” Tutu nodded.
I cleared the breakfast dishes and let them soak in the sink while I changed. I emerged from my room to find my grandfather peppering Tigger with questions.
“What do you mean you don’t know if there’s more dragon eggs in the volcano?”
“Because I wasn’t born when my maternal progenitor scattered them. It seems unlikely, though, that she would have left two in the same spot.”
I took it as a good sign they spoke. Also, a bad one, because Tutu’s interest meant he likely hadn’t heeded my warning about trying to sell Tigger.
“I’m going to head over to the shop and start polishing those tables while the next batch of obsidian melts. You coming with me, or staying here to watch television?” I asked.
“Here!” Tigger didn’t hesitate.
Tutu sighed. “Must be nice to be able to relax.”
“What do you have to work on today?”
“Shipping that stupid bowl,” Tutu groused.
“It sold already?” I couldn’t help a lilt of surprise.
He nodded. “Someone in Scotland ordered it and even paid extra for rush shipping.”
“Ka-ching,” I sang.
“Should have charged more,” Tutu complained. “I thought the fact it had impurities might make it harder to sell.”
We always listed what elements we used when adding swirls of color, but in this case, we had no idea what had been in the hunk we melted. Although, given what I’d learned about Tigger overnight, it seemed likely that bowl contained the remnants of his egg.
We headed off to do our thing, with me popping in from time to time to check on Tigger, who’d discovered the news channel and, like my grandfather, ranted.
“What is the point of your country having a supreme leader if those beneath him counter his every move?” he railed. “When I rule the world, my word will be law, and those who refuse to obey will feed me.”
“World domination? Lofty goal,” I murmured.
“It is a dragon’s primary focus. Feed to get big and strong. Accumulate wealth. And then, when mighty enough, have everyone bow to me as my servants.”
“All dragons want this?” I queried.
“Yes.”
“And have any of them ever achieved that feat? Because our history books certainly don’t mention an era where dragons governed humanity. Actually, they don’t mention dragons at all.”
“Alas, none has ever managed to do so, but they were weak.” He sneered, which was really cute, I had to say.
“But you’re the one who’s going to change that?”
“Yes, because I am the great and mighty Tigger.”
I couldn’t help it, I snickered.
“You find this amusing?”
“If I’d known you had dreams of being a dictator, I might have chosen a different name.”
His gaze narrowed. “What is wrong with my appellation?”
Rather than explain, I loaded the YouTube app on my television and did a search. I left as Winnie the Pooh clips began streaming.
I was in the midst of smoothing a barely discernible hump in the glass coating a side table when Tigger arrived through the shop door, which we’d left propped open for air circulation.
“Woman!” he bellowed, which meant a loud squeak. “How dare you saddle me with such a ridiculous name!”
“Not ridiculous. Tigger is quite famous, and he’s cute, just like you. He was totally my favorite of the entire crew,” I stated, standing to stretch my legs, which were cramped from squatting.
“Cute? What an insult! I am a ferocious killer.” Tigger puffed his chest.
“The only thing I’ve seen you murder is food.”
“That will change as I get bigger. I demand a better title.”
“No.”
“What do you mean no?” Tigger gaped at me.
“I like Tigger.”
“Well, I don’t. I want something more impressive, like the Devourer… or Leviathan. Now there was a mighty monster.”