Authors: Catherine Gilbert Murdock
The dragon by this point had returned to his cave, where he could not resist showing the tablecloth to his mother. She did not share his delight, however, and slapped him and called him names (dragon insults such as "Ice Lung" and "Pappy Tooth") and told him to return the fabric to the draper and get their gold back. In fact, he should take all the man's earnings, and anything else of value the man might have. "Which does not include cloth," she added, with a final blow across the young dragon's snout.
And so, heartbroken, the dragon flapped slowly back to the valley. He landed beside the draper, curling his nose at the stench of beer. But no matter how the beast shook him, the man would not waken. The dragon sat back on his haunches and stared sadly at his lovely tablecloth, and then at the cloth merchant, who was rather plump, even with all that cart pushing.
At once an idea came to the dragon, and quick as aflame he wrapped the draper in the cloth and flew back to his mother. "Look," he cried, slithering into the cave. "Look at this!"And with a great flourish he pushed aside the litter of bones and treasure and spread out the tablecloth, the draper centered upon it.
His mother pursed her dragon lips. "Hmm,"she mused, smoke curling from her nose. "Is that what you've been talking about all this time?
"
"
Yes!"cried the dragon. "Tablecloths make everything look better!
"
"
Well, son, I stand corrected," she said at last—for while dragons may be greedy, selfish, envious, and altogether cruel, they are not above admitting their mistakes, at least sometimes. "You have an excellent point, and, I must add, you have made an incomparable presentation. Shall we?
"
With that, the two dragons lunged at the draper and gobbled him up, pausing only to squabble over the juiciest bits and to set aside the man's purse. Afterward, their bellies bursting, they happily flossed their teeth with the shredded remnants of the tablecloth, the mother dragon praising her son for his excellent choice offabric.
Another upbeat story
from
Gory Dragons Galore
"
Sottocenere
" from
The Imperial Encyclopedia of Lax,
and the
scene
that inspired
Gory Dragons Galore
A good fairy tale
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This humorous ballad, of unknown origin, remains a tavern favorite, with the largest, hairiest drinker invariably playing the part of the lady-in-waiting, using as props a handkerchief and two melons.
PASS THE BUCKET, QUEENIE!
Oh, it's oysters we love and oysters we ate.
Oysters for breakfast 'cause oysters taste great.
Had them with stuffing all piled on plates.
Now it's two hours later and we're in a state.
'Stead of sated and happy, we're sick and irate,
It's a bucket we're needing—at once! We can't wait!
So...
Pass the pail to us, Queenie! Your Majesty's fine,
But others around you ain't feeling benign.
We're puking up oysters: his, hers, and mine.
Pass us that bucket! Pass it right down the line.
I'm a lady-in-waiting, well-born, we all know.
I never once sneezes; my ankles don't show.
I walk with a mince and can't sweat, only glow.
But I ate too many oysters an' here comes quid pro quo—
And I'm moaning for buckets as nausea grows
From those scrumptious wee critters of hours ago. So...
Pass the pail to us, Queenie! Oh, Your Majesty's fine,
But others around you ain't feeling benign.
We're puking up oysters: his, hers, and mine.
Get the lady that bucket! The poor girl's supine!
I'm a lord secret'ry wit' my nose in the air,
My spectacles polished, my eyes full of glare
As I watch for mistakes, even one misplaced hair.
Now I'm green as a celery, muttering prayers,
Convinced that I'm dying and God doesn't care
'Cause he won't help my barfing—and I barf with such flair! So...
Pass the pail to us, Queenie! See, Your Majesty's fine,
But others around you ain't feeling benign.
We're puking up oysters: his, hers and mine.
Pass him the bucket! He shall think you divine!
I am an aristocrat, knight of the land,
I travel by coach because walking ain't grand.
I eat only rich stuff; plain food tastes like sand.
So of course I eat oysters 'cause they're in demand.
But what happened today was not quite what I'd planned—
Oh, please pass the bucket! I beg, I command! So...
Pass the pail to us, Queenie! Your Majesty's fine,
But others around you ain't feeling benign.
We're puking up oysters: his, hers, and mine.
Get us that bucket! Hand it right down the line.
Author Commentary for "Pass the Bucket, Queenie!"
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I haven't written rhyming poetry since eighth grade, and as "Pass the Bucket" illustrates, the world could easily go another thirty years without any more effort from me on this front. Here's the backstory, the you-didn't-ask-but-I'm-telling-you-anyway backstory:
Wisdom's Kiss
began—both as the kernel of an idea, and initially as the
first scene
in the book—with a girl looking up a road and sensing, via supernatural powers, the approach of something awful. This scene had to be really dramatic, the thriller that would keep readers turning pages, and so it made sense to give her a physical, easily visualized reaction to this approaching force, a reaction powerful yet mysterious and, you know, gripping. Having her collapse, gagging, in the mud really seemed to fit the bill.
As I developed the story, I also needed to get this girl (now named Trudy) searching for her beau; joining, say, a princess en route to her wedding seemed like a good solution. But why would a princess invite a nobody like Trudy, especially when she already had a bunch of staff? Because ... the staff is all sick! (Insert "Ta da" sound here.) So Trudy would have to accompany the princess, and—double bonus!—the staff's sickness would explain her sight-induced gagging! (Don't ask me about the nuances of
Trudy's sight
that's an article in and of itself.) As I was writing the sickness scenes, I was also trying to add grandiloquence to the
Queen of All the Heavens
play—I was always trying to add grandiloquence to
Queen of All the Heavens
—so I had the innkeeper grandiloquently declare that his oyster breakfast would be remembered forever. Ben even repeats this sentiment at the end of the scene. And then—snicker!—Trudy's encyclopedia entry describes how the food poisoning was "immortalized" (as in "never forgotten")...but in a
comic ballad
.
Yes, I know: no one will ever get this joke. But I had so much fun writing "Pass the Bucket" and its little foreword, and I laugh out loud every time I read it—I particularly love the "don't show/only glow" couplet in the lady-in-waiting's verse. When I first wrote "Pass the Bucket," Dizzy and Ben's carriage included a secretary and a nobleman, both with speaking parts, but I subsequently deleted them; the fewer characters the better (an excellentrule of thumb for all you aspiring writers). But I tried to keep the lyrics to "Pass the Bucket" in the
Wisdom' Kiss
manuscript in a footnote, and then as an encyclopedia entry, until finally it was clear even to me that the song added nothing to the main story, and I sadly deleted it. Thank goodness for enhanced e-books.