Much as it galled… I nodded.
“Good. Now, what do you say we get some cheesy puffs and watch some TV?”
“The Righteous Gemstones?” I asked hopefully.
“Now you’re talking.” She crouched down. “Sorry we had our first fight.”
“It’s okay.” I hesitated before adding, “I apologize as well if I insulted you. My memories of norms and customs are from a different era. It might take me time to adjust to the reality of now versus the past.”
“You mean like the fact men no longer rule the world?”
“Yes, and that my kind are no longer seen as demigods.”
“I don’t know if this helps, but I’m sure once you get to be the size of a house, plenty of folks will be throwing themselves in your direction in the hopes of getting your attention.”
“They most likely will, but know that you will always be my first servant.” I thought it a nice compliment, but Iolana rolled her eyes.
“I see we’ve got some work still to do.” She scooped me up and placed me on her shoulder before heading inside, where we snickered at the antics of the Gemstones, gorged on those flavorful crunchy snacks, ate something called a chocolate bar, which I might rename ambrosia, and I snorted Coke. The liquid, not powdery version.
All in all, a pleasant time that ended with me in bed—not the glass box.
Progress. Maybe Iolana wouldn’t have to die.
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.”
