Gork, the Teenage Dragon

by Gabe Hudson

  “OK. I hear ya,” says Trenx, looking like his old self. “Let me see what I can do.” He speaks some code into this tiny boss microphone attached to his cape collar. I have to assume this is a Masters of Chaos microphone, a way for members to keep in touch with one another.

  Then he turns to look at me, and sprays sparks out his metal beak. “OK, word is that Runcita’s right now in the Dining Hall munching on a bat sandwich,” he says. “That’s actionable intelligence. You can bet the farm on it. I don’t think you should do this but if your mind’s made up, well then there you go. But just don’t tell nobody where you got Runcita’s coordinates, OK? Because it could cost me my membership in Masters, and getting kicked out of Masters is no picnic on account of before they kick you out they kill you. And I don’t much feel like dying today. So I had to lie and say the intel on Runcita was for another member. So you didn’t hear this from me, OK?”

  I wipe the sweat off my scaly brow with the back of my talon.

  “Thanks, buddy,” I whisper, flapping my wings. “You’re the best. Seriously. I really appreciate it.”

  Then I clench my talon into a fist and hold it up high for a talon bump.

  But Trenx just stares at my fist in the air like it’s a piece of moldy broccoli.

  Then I see the robot’s left eye twitch like something’s bothering his psyche but he’s trying to hide it.

  Oh, so that’s how it is now.

  Big horns don’t bump talons with small horns, that’s some kind of unwritten rule.

  He knows it and now I know it.

  And now he has that boss FEAR ME tattoo on his shiny silver wing to prove it.

  I keep my clenched talon in the air for the bump.

  And truthfully it seems like Trenx is just going to leave me hanging.

  But finally he reaches up and quickly bumps it like he’s scared that I might be contagious.

  Then his eyes get serious. “But I should warn you, Weak Sauce,” he says. “I heard that Bruggert—”

  I don’t wait to hear the rest.

  I leap off the observation deck and flap my wings and take off flying in the direction of the Dining Hall.

  Where is my Queen?

  But it turns out I should’ve stayed and listened. Because that robot Trenx was aiming to warn me about this ruthless and hideous dragon named Bruggert in my senior class. Bruggert is definitely the most ghastly bastard in our senior class and the most deranged member of the Masters of Chaos at WarWings. A true super-fiend. And Mr. Gigabyte was trying to warn me that Bruggert had put the word out on the Masters of Chaos network that he was going to offer Runcita his crown for EggHarvest, and any other fool dragon who tried to ask Runcita would instantly be mutilated and killed.

  Now when I replay the events of this Crown Day in my scaly head, I’ve often wondered how things would’ve turned out if only I had stayed on the observation post that morning and listened to the robot’s warning.

  But instead I just fly out of the Coliseum of Heroes like a moron and flap my leathery wings and keep zooming onward.

  Thwack-thwack.

  [ 26 ]

  HOW DEAN FLOOP BLAMED THE RECENT DEATHS OF ALL THOSE CADETS ON DR. TERRIBLE, WHICH RESULTED IN LAST NIGHT’S

  DOCTOR VS. DEAN RAGEFEST OUT ON THE CAMPUS QUAD

  On my way to the Dining Hall, I get Dr. Terrible and Dean Floop on the brain again.

  I get them on, and I can’t get them off. Last night’s RageFest. The events which led to Dr. Terrible’s disappearance. I mean he just disappeared last night, so I guess it’s only natural for me to be thinking about him. Plus if I can figure out where my scaly green grandpa is hiding, then I can turn him in to Dean Floop. Anything to put the demented Dr. Terrible on hold, keep him from messing with me from afar. It’ll serve the scoundrel right for giving those giant horns to Trenx like that.

  Now like I told you before, all seventeen of those poor cadets were ruthlessly executed by Dean Floop in just two days. And so by Thursday afternoon—which was just yesterday—Dean Floop and the Elders were considering shutting down Dr. Terrible’s Institute of Advanced Biokinetics and Neuroanatomy. As a kind of stopgap measure and public relations gesture all balled up in one.

  So my grandpa was summoned to the campus quad yesterday evening for a Public Debate against Dean Floop to be held in front of the entire dragon cadet corps and the Council of the Elders. This is the event which would instantly become known all over the island as the Doctor vs. Dean RageFest.

  Or just RageFest for short.

  At the Public Debate Forum last night, all of us cadets stood in formation around the Debate Circle. And the Council of the Elders sat up high on their perches so they could watch the proceedings from on high. Then, before Dean Floop and my scaly grandpa even began debating each other, they paced around on their webbed feet and stalked each other with their massive leathery wings fully extended. They raised their spiked tails in Threat Displays and roared and blasted hideous flamestreams out their flared nostrils.

  Now toward the end of the debate, my scaly green grandpa pointed his powerstaff at Dean Floop.

  “This dragon is a complete buffoon!” bellowed Dr. Terrible. “And I submit to you that the Dean squats here before us today blowing firestreams straight out his poo-hole! How do I know this? Because no dragon’s scaly face could be this ugly! Nor could their beak make so little sense! So the Dean is speaking straight out of his poo-hole! I rest my case!”

  All of us cadets standing in formation started snorting with laughter over Dr. Terrible’s poo-hole comment. Dr. Terrible was clearly outraged his name was being dragged into this whole sordid affair, because he’d had nothing to do with the deaths of any of those cadets.

  Then my scaly grandpa turned to the Council of the Elders and pointed out that it was Dean Floop who’d stood as judge in each of those poor dragon cadets’ cases. And that it was Dean Floop who seemed just a wee bit firestream-happy.

  A bunch of us cadets standing in formation shuffled our webbed feet and whisked our tails around.

  “Hear, hear! Hear, hear!” we murmured.

  And as Dean Floop stood there behind the podium watching and listening to Dr. Terrible’s rant, you could see the Dean’s eyes blooming red in their sockets. Then Dean Floop leapt up in front of the Council and raised his tail in a Threat Display and pointed an angry curved index claw at my scaly green grandpa.

  “Let me remind everyone here,” roared Dean Floop, “that it was the sight of this dragon’s bizarre research experiments which caused those three cadet dragons to go insane in the first place! And so if it weren’t for Dr. Terrible’s Institute then none of us would even be in this mess right now! Therefore I suggest we shut his Institute down immediately! So, honorable members of the Council, I move we now take a vote! All in favor of shutting down Dr. Terrible’s Institute, say ‘aye’!”

  “I’ve got your ‘aye’ right here, you scoundrel!” snarled my grandpa.

  Then he opened his black beak and blasted a hideous flamestream, and the tip of the flamestream nicked Dean Floop’s left eye and left him blind. Now Dean Floop was bent over clutching his bloody scaly green face in his talons and shrieking. Though within hours Dean Floop would take to wearing a black patch over his eyeless socket and indeed seemed to relish his new fashion accessory.

  Then my grandpa turned to address the crusty old dragon Elders up on their perches. “Members of the Council, my business here is finished!” roared Dr. Terrible. “Now if you wish to reach me I’ll be cooling my toe claws somewhere far away from this wailing buffoon. I bid you farewell!”

  I was standing in formation along with all the other cadets and watched the debate unfold in real time. And I have to admit that seeing Dr. Terrible give his fiendish speech like that, well it definitely made me twitch my tail a couple times with pride. You couldn’t help but feel good about being related to the scaly green bastard.

  Then my grandpa turned and stormed out of there, trailing a boss cloud of blacksmoke
behind him. Now a few seconds later a WarWings detachment of Security Commando dragons was sent to fetch Dr. Terrible, but he had vanished.

  He could not be found.

  Not at his Institute nor anywhere else on the island.

  The WarWings Security Forces, led by Rexro, deployed search parties in all directions and to all layers of the atmosphere: by air, land, and sea.

  They sent an alert to all the slave colonies in the neighboring galaxies.

  But nothing turned up.

  My grandpa Dr. Terrible had simply vanished.

  Now it is Crown Day and Dr. Terrible is gone. They had scoured his Institute and searched high and low, but Dr. Terrible was nowhere to be found. His personal laboratory out at the Institute’s grounds had disappeared as well, as if it’d been swallowed up into the ground.

  The WarWings Council of the Elders had charged Dr. Terrible with treason for Rogue Attacks with Intent to Destroy WarWings’ Chain of Command, Thereby Endangering the Sanctity of Dragons Everywhere. And as soon as their security detail located Dr. Terrible, he was to be brought to stand trial before the Elders.

  And here it is Crown Day and I’m trying like crazy to get Runcita Floop to be my Queen.

  And I’m zooming toward the Dining Hall.

  Because according to Trenx’s connections in Masters of Chaos, this is where I’ll find my Queen-to-Be, Runcita, munching on a bat sandwich.

  Thwack-thwack.

  [ 27 ]

  THE DINING HALL

  After flying around like that for a good ten minutes, I finally see the Dining Hall entrance up ahead.

  So I fold my wings across my back and let myself coast forty feet down to the ground with the flight momentum carrying my scaly ass forward. And when my webbed feet hit the floor I just keep walking.

  I stroll right on through the Dining Hall entrance.

  And I think:

  Finally.

  Because the second I walk through the door, I can instantly smell the luscious scent of Runcita. Now inside the Dining Hall it’s a madhouse. Packed scale-to-scale with cadets. These dragons are munching on bat sandwiches and hornetsicles and shouting at each other and kicking skulls up in the air.

  I gently but firmly start shoving fools and chicks out of my way, pushing deeper into the throng.

  “Hey,” somebody growls. “Watch where you’re flinging them wings!”

  Where is my Queen? Come on come on come on. I know you’re here somewhere!

  And when this big nasty dragon fool in the crowd turns to glare at me for being too pushy, I guess the demented look on my black beak must say it all. Because he just holds up his talons palm-first and takes a step back, making room for me. But I’m still not making any real progress. I leap up in the air and look across the Dining Hall.

  There she is.

  Runcita.

  She’s maybe a hundred feet away. All the way on the other side of the Dining Hall. But I’d know that gorgeous green scaly face anywhere. She’s wearing her gold tiara, the one with the red rubies in it.

  Runcita’s sweet scent is wafting up my nasal passages and tickling the pleasure centers in my brain. Now it’s true that the heart is the highest law there is, but if you ask me, the snout sure comes in a close second. Because part of me just wants to lie down on the ground and weep with gratitude, that’s how good she smells.

  But Runcita is on the move, shoving her way through the crowd. She looks like she’s heading toward the exit on the other side of the Dining Hall.

  “Runcita!” I shout, leaping up into the air.

  As I hover here in the air for a second, I see her stop and turn her scaly green head and look in my direction, aiming to see whoever just called out her name. But then I fall back to the ground.

  Time to make my move. Here I come, Luscious.

  “Runcita! Runcita! Wait up!” I shout, as I fly right at her.

  I can see Runcita has stopped and she’s looking for whoever keeps calling out her name. Which is me.

  I rocket forward and bellow, “Runcita! Runcita! Runcita!”

  I’m shooting toward her and I can see her but she can’t see me because I’m flying at her from the side. I have a straight line of sight and she’s right there. But then all of a sudden I can’t see her because my line of sight is blocked by this giant Mutant who steps directly into my path.

  This Mutant is so tall, his chest is directly in line with my beak. And the way I know he’s a Mutant is because he has those patches of glowing green scales all over his forelimbs, like what you see on most Mutants.

  Anyway, by the time this big Mutant steps into my path there’s no time for me to stop flying. My beak crashes straight into his scaly chest. And my head whips back and cracks the floor so hard it feels like a coconut being split open with an ax.

  Now this giant Mutant must’ve barely felt the impact from our collision because he’s just standing on his hind legs like a statue. And then I could swear I hear him chuckle.

  So I spring to my webbed feet.

  “What the hell?! You think this is funny?!” I growl.

  I mean I know Runcita is just on the other side of this Mutant, and that’s all the inspiration I need. And a powerful bolt of WILL TO POWER surges through me and I pull a big flamestream from my belly and load it on my tongue.

  And I feel giddy for having found this individual to unleash all my accumulated rage on.

  I rear back and cock my long neck and prepare to blast the flamestream right into this bastard’s scaly green face.

  One Mutant casserole coming right up.

  Extra crispy.

  [ 28 ]

  THE MUTANT HAS A SURPRISE IN STORE FOR ME

  I end up shooting a firebolt, instead of a flamestream.

  But then I look up and to my ever-loving shock I see this giant dragon doesn’t even have a scaly green head. Because where his monsterish head should be, there’s just air. And so my firebolt shoots harmlessly up through the air until it hits the ceiling.

  And I repeat: this bastard doesn’t have a scaly head.

  And if it sounds freaky, well that’s because it is.

  Now the weirdest part, though, is this Mutant does have a short scaly green neck.

  Head? No.

  Neck? Check.

  And the dragon’s neck appears to sprout up a couple inches off his shoulders and then just abruptly stops, as if his scaly body had found the process of making itself too complicated and so when it got to the head it just threw in the towel and quit.

  Spooky.

  Because the point where the dragon’s neck stops is a perfectly flat plane, so that you could set a mug of lava on it and not worry about spilling a drop of it.

  “Hey,” I growl, “get out of my way! I’m on my Queen Quest! And if you’re looking for a new friend, go look elsewhere. Because headless just isn’t my thing.”

  The bastard flaps his wings and points a murderous-looking claw at me. “Just because I’m not Normal, you can’t disrespect me like that,” he booms. “I still got rights!”

  Where the heck is his voice coming from? This bastard doesn’t have a head, but he has a voice?

  Then I feel some hot air on my scales. And I glance down and am shocked to see the Mutant’s entire scaly green face is located in his belly. Here this fiend’s two yellow eyes are staring up at me. And there’s his nasty black beak. And as I’m studying his beak, the red tongue flicks out and licks it. Then, finally, there’s his green snout.

  The Mutant’s monsterish scaly face is right here in the center of his stomach, staring up at me.

  I feel woozy just looking at it. Now as the Mutant bastard stares up at me his yellow eyes keep flicking back and forth, left to right. Like I’m a book and this fool is reading me or something.

  Ugh.

  Then this scaly bastard sticks his talon right in front of my beak, like he’s trying to show me something.

  “Recognize this, you dirtbag?!” he growls. “Look familiar? How about the right for
chicks around here not to have jerks putting tracking devices on them while they’re asleep?! Recognize this, scumbag? Huh?”

  I peer at the shiny silver thing this maniac is showing me and a jolt of shock shoots down my spine. I feel the blood rushing to my scales and my tail slinks between my hind legs.

  It’s my nanotracker. My Secret Weapon. The little silver glinting thing. Right there in the Mutant’s claws. And just seeing it here like this, well I start sweating. And my black heart starts pounding away like some creature trapped inside its coffin, buried alive.

  I feel so ashamed, I just want to vacate my life.

  “Where did you get that?” I croak, as my hind legs start to tremble.

  “Where did I get it? Oh that’s rich. You know exactly where I got it, you little sonuvabitch!”

  Then he drops the little silver tracking device on the floor and lifts his leg and stomps on it with his webbed foot, making a big show of using his heel to grind it into oblivion.

  “You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

  “Well technically speaking,” I whisper, “it’s not like I myself put the tracking device on her while she slept. You see, I used one of my micro-drones—”

  “Shut your beak before I knock it off!”

  He yanks his powerstaff off his utility belt and I’m pretty sure he’s going to hit me with it. And I flinch. But all he does is flick his powerstaff and a holophoto appears in the air and I couldn’t be more shocked by what I see there. Because in the floating holophoto you can see Runcita squatting next to this headless Mutant bastard, and they’re both smiling. She with her luscious scaly green head in the correct location, and he with his demented beak down in his belly. And Runcita has one leathery wing wrapped warmly around the Mutant’s shoulder, looking like she’d be content to spend the rest of her life hugging this maniac.

  “Is this your Queen?” he snarls, pointing at the floating holophoto of Runcita with her wing wrapped around him. “Because if so, take my advice and forget about it. Runcita wouldn’t go to EggHarvest with you if you were the last dragon in the universe!”