Fate Of The Dragon

by Richard Lovegood

  Nothing happens though. He just sits there with his mouth hanging open. Jimmy raises his eyes and asks, “You alright, boy?”

  The GOC before us squints his eyes, and responds with, “Nope.” Well at least he also acknowledges that he isn’t the smartest among us. He continues, “My name isn’t alright. My name isn’t boy, either. It’s Jahmez.”

  Now our mouths are open, and my head hurts. I have a feeling we are going to be here for a while. Next to me is a GOC that never leaves out any details. In front of us is a GOC that never leaves. I wonder how many others are like Jahmez. If there are more, I don’t want to meet them, because I don’t think I can take any more of this… nonsense. However, I believe Jimmy has been gifted with more patience than I, because he asks, “Let me ask you a question, Jahmez. How did you make it out of the factory? Did you trip?”

  Jahmez puffs up in a proud manner and says, “I’m glad you asked that, sir. I just happen to be a very special creation. I know this because Mr. Voice told me so.”

  Begin state of confusion; time now. “What?” I ask.

  “Well, He didn’t tell me His name, so I gave Him one. I call Him Mr. Voice. His whole name should be Mr. Voice That Only I Can Hear In My Head. Only, I think that’s too long to say at one time, so I shortened it to Mr. Voice.” says Jahmez. “On the day that I was made, I had a little bit of trouble getting out of the factory. When I first opened my eyes, I noticed that the floor beneath me was moving. I got curious, so I hopped off to check underneath. Sure enough, there was a whole bunch of spinning wheels, twisty thingies, and grinding bits. I think I got a little too close, because the next thing I remember, other people were pulling me out of the whole mess of what was underneath. That’s why my head is so stretchy. See?” Jahmez shakes his head back and forth and it wobbles. His larger eye moves up and down, while his mouth has a wavy motion about it.

  “Unbelievable.” Jimmy says.

  “My turn.” I say. “When you went into the auditorium, where did you get the idea for pies?”

  Jahmez smiles real big and says, “I knew you looked like a pie kind of guy. I had overheard some other GOCs talking about something called baking. So, I listened to what they wanted to bake, and one of them mentioned pies. That sounded the tastiest to me, so I thought to myself that I was going to figure out how to make pies. So far, I haven’t found a way to do that. Nobody wants to help me either. So now, I intend to ask everyone till I find someone who will help me… or at least point me in the right direction.”

  “Wow. You really are special, huh?” I say.

  “You know, I hear that a lot.” says Jahmez.

  “I bet you do.” I say.

  Jahmez continues, “I’ve asked everyone. They all gave me a funny look, made a weird sound, or yelled at me. I couldn’t figure out what I had done wrong, and that made me feel sad. Then I thought about my quest for pies, and I became happy again. But, I don’t want to do just any kind of pie. I want to make pies that nobody else will make. Unique pies. Unusual pies. Special pies.

  “I have ideas for fish paste pies, salamander surprise pies, and octopus cream pudding pies. I also have ideas for jalapeño pies, spicy milk pies, and banana curry pies! That last one sounds like my favorite so far. Then there are others such as key-lime steak pies, honeydew spaghetti pies, and coconut marinara dumplings.”

  I can’t take any more. I feel sick. “Stop. Stop!” I yell. “I think I have heard enough. Thank you for… sharing.” I say.

  The look of annoyance on my face betrays me, and with that, I see a new side of Jahmez. He says, “Listen. I am going to be a pie maker. I am not going to be a people pleaser. If you don’t like what I do, then that’s your problem. Believe it or not, mister, there will be someone out there who will enjoy what I do.”

  I am at the point now where I don’t want to be nice. I want this guy to hear exactly what I’m thinking, without holding back at all. “Now you listen to me. Nobody and I mean absolutely nobody will eat your pies! They all sound disgusting. With every single one you mentioned, I felt sick.”

  Jahmez tries to interrupt me, “No. You don’t understand…”

  I counter. “No! You don’t understand! Your pie ideas are not pleasing to anyone! Your voice is not pleasing to anyone! As a matter of fact, your very appearance is not pleasing to anyone! I’m pretty sure I speak for almost everyone here when I say that you make us all sick! Every time you open your mouth, I can’t help but laugh because you sound like a complete fool!”

  Jahmez shouts back at me now. “Who do you think you are? Yes, I know I’m an idiot. Yes, I know that I sound funny. Yes, I know that it’s very possible nobody wants to eat my pies. I don’t need it repeated back to me like I’ve forgotten. But you…you’re just mean!”

  “Your voice makes me cringe!” I say.

  “Your eyes are too round!” Jahmez shouts back.

  “SEE! Even that didn’t make sense! You truly are a moron!” I shout.

  Silence now hangs in the air for an awkward moment, until Jahmez quietly speaks “You leave me no other choice. I didn’t want it to come to this, but you forced me to do it.”

  “What hit me?” I ask.

  “Nope.” He says. “I will punish you with randomness!”

  There’s no way this bumbling block head could get any more random, right? Wrong! Jahmez opens his mouth and out comes incoherent sentences that are so random, they make my eyes cross. I can’t figure any of it out. The mind can’t begin to conceive the mental torture Jahmez is able to inflict with the absurdities spewing from his mouth! I shut my eyes hoping that will dull the pain. Nope. Better luck next time. He is saying things that shouldn’t go together in one phrase. Most of it was completely indecipherable, but occasionally something like “pies and sticks will break my stones, but glue will never hurt him” would reach my ears. As ridiculous as it was, I actually processed that one as a sentence. The rest was just a jumbled mess.

  My head hurts, my vision is blurry, and I’m so mad right now that all I can think of is hurting this guy! I just want to slam this guy as hard as I can against something, and hope that he’ll break something that prevents him from ever moving, or speaking, again. That would make me feel better. I can even visualize it happening. Yes. I’m going to teach this idiot a lesson. Moving closer, I can see that Jahmez now looks confused and worried. Good! He should be worried. I reach for him, but Jimmy quickly steps in between us.

  “Do you two fellers realize how much of a commotion you’re making?” Jimmy says. “You’ve got every GOC in here all riled up, while y’all put on a show! Don’t you understand that it aint that important?” Neither one of us says anything. Looking right at me he says, “Since you decided to have this little argument over practically something so small, you’ve attracted the attention of the whole town. Let me ask you a question. What does it matter to you what Jahmez does or doesn’t do?”

  I’m stunned. I try my best to answer. “Well, I…”

  “Shut up, boy. That didn’t require you to speak.” Jimmy says. “You keep that festering wound that you call a mouth closed before you upset anybody else. I mean, I was starting to get offended just by listening to you. Out of all the things that I have learned is that words can hurt, or they can heal. You’ve done a lot of hurtin’ in that short amount of time. For starters, I figure you owe this here feller an apology.”

  “Thanks, mister.” Jahmez says. “I knew you were going to…”

  “Shut up, boy. That didn’t require you to speak either.” Jimmy says. “I figure I’ve had all the fussin’ I can take from you two.” He looks at me. “Aiden, I thought you had enough sense to keep yer mouth shut.”

  “I do, it’s just that I…” I start to defend myself.

  “I aint done yet. When I first met you, you seemed level headed. I thought I’d come across someone I wanted to talk to. However, if you keep losing yer temper like that every time you don’t like what you hear, well, I aint got time for that.” He looks at Jahmez. “As
for you, knucklehead, it’s possible I have two sets of three words for you.”

  Jahmez beams with excitement. “Oh wow! Thanks mister! With that out of the way, my first question for you is this: how do I make pies?”

  Jimmy stares at Jahmez for a long time. I wonder if he’s thinking of possible insults to hurl at the town idiot. I know I would. Or maybe he’s thinking about what not to say. Hmm. I wonder. Then Jimmy says, “I don’t know.”

  Jahmez seems even more confused. He pauses. He furrows his brow. I wonder if it hurts him to think that hard. He asks his next question, “Well, if I knew how to make pies, what kind would you like?”

  “I don’t care.” Jimmy replies.

  “Hey! That was only six words!” says Jahmez with disappointment in his tone.

  “Like I said, boy, two sets of three.” Jimmy says without raising his voice. How does he do that? I would have lost it again with that guy! “I look at it this way. Right now, I’m still a GOC. I do know that I will be a farmer at some point. I know this because the Superintendent told me so. I had no clue what that was so I asked Him all the questions about what it meant to be one. Guess what I found out? A good farmer knows when to plant seeds, when to fertilize, and when to harvest. A good farmer knows when to milk the cows, collect the chicken eggs, and when to shear the sheep. But I aint worried about any of that right now. If I rush things, then I’m not gonna get the result I want. I could end up with no crops, or worse, dead livestock. It’s all about patience. And it all starts with a little seed. Everything a plant needs to flourish and blossom is in that seed. It aint gonna happen quickly. It takes time.

  “You know somethin’ else? We’re all seeds, too, if ya think ‘bout it. We don’t become leaders, farmers, or pie makers quickly. It takes time. First, we need to be planted, fertilized, cared for, and when the time is right, harvested. Although, the Superintendent calls it somethin’ else. Not harvest. Oh well. My point is this: everything we need to be who we are going to be is already inside of us. It’s just going to take some time. Am I makin’ any sense to you?” Jimmy says.

  We both nod our heads.

  Some of that sounded confusing to me. I can only imagine what is must have done for Jahmez. His response catches me off guard. “Ok. I’ll stop worrying about the pies then.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  The entire city must have been listening in, because they all shouted in unison, “THANK YOU!”

  10

  Delirium

  “You can’t do this to me!” says one voice.

  “I most certainly can, and I will.” The other voice says.

  “Give me another chance, please! I beg of you!” That one has to be Jeffers. He wanted some kind of promotion anyhow. So that piece fits. That must make the other one the Archbishop.

  “You had your chance, you worthless excuse of a man. I will send the letter myself to inform your stupid council as to how great I am. You, obviously fail to see the good I am doing here.”

  “No! Please! You don’t have to do this. I can change my statement; I will say that you are a man of God. Please, don’t hurt me.” I am wrong. I had the two mixed up! The latter is clearly not Jeffers. What in Heaven’s name is happening?

  I try to open my eyes, but still I see nothing. Is my vision gone? I hear Jeffers say in an almost hushed growl, “You will never have contact with the diocese again. I’ll simply tell them that you were in such a hurry that you had no time to contact them. If they should inquire further, I’ll simply tell them that you accidentally left your cell phone behind.”

  “I would never forget that! Wait, what are you going to do to me?” the Archbishop asks. Jeffers says nothing. A loud scream emits from the mouth of the Archbishop, which I now make out to be on the floor level where I’m at. There are other screams that come from the pews. Apparently, there are still some left who were curious to watch the events unfold up here on the so-called stage. There’s a loud snapping and ripping sound coming from close by, followed by a sickly gurgling sound. I no longer hear the Archbishop scream. Footsteps are heard coming closer to me.

  “So, help me, fatty. If you ever wake to remember this moment, and you tell anyone of what happened here, I will slice you open like a freshly caught fish and watch your precious Twinkies come spilling out.” He storms off and I hear a door slam from behind the stage. My mind is racing with possibilities of what could have happened here today. I haven’t the foggiest of ideas. I hear another voice coming from the distance. It, too, is an angry voice. I know this one, though. It’s very familiar.

  “Elverson? Elverson! Where are you, piggy?!” screams my mother. Crap! I can’t get away. I feel trapped. I want to run but my legs aren’t cooperating. Why is this so difficult? I hear the clanging of metal. “You forgot to clean my bedpan again! Look at you: sitting there on the ground…worthless, lazy, good for nothing! You’re just like your father. You better get your rotund behind in here and pick up my bedpan NOW!”

  My eyes pop open. I look around and realize that there’s still some small pain in my neck. Probably from how I landed when I fell. The metal sound is still there, but it’s not the bedpan. It’s the church bells. Well, that’s a relief. I push myself up onto my knees, and my arms are shaking. I slide a foot underneath and push my body up some more. That’s good progress; now for the next foot. Good. I slowly groan as I stand fully upright, place my hands on my back and arch my body until I hear the familiar popping sound. How long was I out? My back only pops if I was asleep.

  The church bells toll again. I check my watch. Jiminy Christmas it’s 4 o’clock! I have to get back home, because it is way past my medication time seeing as how I forgot to take them this morning. I turn to head back to my office and am stunned at the sight in front of me. There, on the carpet of the steps, is what remains of the body of Archbishop McGarity. He is very much dead, with dried blood beneath him on the carpet. His body lying ungracefully on his stomach; but his head has been turned completely around to face backwards. An open mouth scream is frozen on his face.

  I’m going to be sick.

  I place my hand over my mouth and rush out. I close the door behind me, and I try to hurry to the bathroom. In the hallway, I pause momentarily because I hear Jeffers’ voice coming from his office.

  “Look, money is not an issue anymore. The cattle at this God forsaken place are a bunch of suckers and will believe anything I tell them. All I need you to do is to get in here before the sun sets, and clean this mess up.” There is a pause. He must be on the phone. “No, I’m not worried about that at all. This town is so much in slavery to their own wants and desires that they could care less about what’s going on in their own measly lives, but instead thrive off of the misery of others. I guaran-blasted-tee you that they glue themselves to their televisions so they can watch someone else’s horrible life to mask over their own in an attempt to make the pain go away. The funny thing is that they know the garbage they watch is all fiction anyway, regardless of how many of them claim to be “reality shows”.” There is another pause. “I’ve already contacted the local news. I know the programing director at the local affiliate. He’ll make sure the story cuts in live to interrupt their scheduled programming, so that they can’t help but watch it. Other than that, I’m a shoe in for that promotion.” Pause. “You have my word on that. As soon as I am granted the position, all of us will be able to uproot from here and move on to the next town. By the way, how would you like to be a priest? It’s very easy these days. All you have to do is follow a schedule, pretend like you know what you’re talking about, read from the bible a few times, and then talk about stuff they want to hear. You know, make them feel happy. Throw a line in there about tithing and just watch the money pour in. It’s a very lucrative business.” Pause. “Well, alright. If you change your mind you know where to find me.”

  I knock on his door.

  “WHAT!” I can hear him slam the phone down on his desk and see his silhouette launch from his chair. A mom
ent later, the door violently swings open, and all I can do is stand there shaking. He says to me, “Oh it’s you. I guess you can come in.” I am almost afraid to. I don’t want the same owl treatment that the Archbishop got. I walk in anyway, and Jeffers closes the door behind me. “Would you like to sit down? I really hope not. I don’t want you falling and hurting your hip or something.”

  I shake my head quickly.

  “Good. This isn’t going to take long. I’m not sure what all you saw, or remember, but I do know what I saw. Your lack of attention to detail has failed you again, Elverson. Had you remembered to put your cincture on, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I wouldn’t have to play damage control, to clean up a dead body off of our church floor that could have easily been avoided. Do you see what your actions have caused?”

  “You failed again, haven’t you piggy?” my mother asks. I shake my head fast to try and shake her voice out of my head.

  “Don’t shake your head at me, Elverson! Don’t you clearly see that this is your fault?” Jeffers says with a pointed finger.

  “This is your fault, piggy.” My mother says.

  I shake my head again. It’s not going away. Please, please just stop and go away. I promise I will take my meds. Oh, God. Please make this stop. I start to tear up a little, because I can feel my eyes moisten.

  “You are really trying my patience, fat boy. Do I need replay the recent events to remind you of what happened? You failed to dress appropriately for mass. That failure led to your stole falling off and wrapping around your feet, which I’m almost positive that you haven’t seen in half a century. You then tripped, fell, and tried to catch yourself on the podium. That caused a domino effect. The podium toppled over with all of its contents and knocked the Archbishop down; who by the way was rushing up to save your fat pathetic life. When he fell back, he landed on the stairs head first. That caused the gruesome condition you probably saw when you came to.” Jeffers says.