First, I must apologize for jumping into this week’s newsletter. Ran won’t be happy when he realizes that I cut in, so I’ll say my piece then return control of this week’s newsletter to him.
This is not your scribe. I’ll tell you who I am in a moment but first let me tell you why I’m here.
I jumped in because I love him, not your charming host but his father, Sarn. I have loved him for years and years, but external forces divided us.
Some of that was my fault. (That tale is recounted here for free.)
I don’t regret what I did in Enchanted. How can I when everything I did was for him?
Yes, it all went wrong in the end, but my intentions were pure. I only wanted what was best for him. Isn’t that what matters?
Perhaps he deserves better than me, but can anyone appreciate him like I did? I think not.
Losing his friendship cut my heart into pieces. But I didn’t go through all the trouble of crossing dimensions just to complain about my situation.
I came to warn him, but he can’t hear me.
Old foes are targeting my beloved, my emerald-eyed Angel, my Sarn.
I want to help him, but I can’t. Forces are pulling me back to where our epic friendship began. By reliving it, I might find a way to save him.
‘The keys to the future are in the past.’
That’s what the angel told me. I believe her, but I need your help.
Will you stand with us?
And now back to your regularly scheduled newsletter. This is Ran, by the way, Sarn’s adorable son and sidekick. We’ll just keep Shade’s visit a secret, okay?
Papa’s still sad about what happened Enchanted. I’m not, but I got lots of quality father-and-son adventure time in Enchanted, several glowing gifts, a nice story about the Queen Tree, and I got to meet her two times. Oh, and at the end, Papa promised me more magical adventures. So Enchanted was a big win for me.
Now that I’ve reclaimed *my* newsletter, it’s time to head back into the boiler room. So get ready to rumble!
Last week, we found the Newsletter-Dragon in the boiler room and asked for your help to separate them because heat is important when a polar vortex drops by for a visit. (Thank you for writing in with your suggestions!)
And now, step with me back into that cold boiler room.
See the glowy dragon curling tighter and tighter around the boxy boiler system. Hear its tortured metal screams as she squeezes and squeezes, and you get the point.
Picture me, Ran, son of Sarn, reading your advice on our scribe’s phone. Are you ready? Good, because here we go:
Attempt to lure the dragon away from the boiler system #1:
“Christy writes, ‘it’s a heat dragon. All [we] need to do is to conjure up a couple of men with metal boxes and extreme knowledge of such things to go down and do their magic, and they can capture the dragon. If they release it out in the cold, it will disappear,'” I read aloud to Papa. “Where do we get those boxes and the knowledgable men from?”
“Maybe one of Melinda’s neighbors knows. I’ll ask.”
Papa started toward the group of gawkers. Many were retirees who lived in the building, but there was also a smattering of thirtysomething office workers like our scribe.
“I think she’s describing a cage like those Have-a-Heart traps,” said an older gentleman.
He was quite spry for ninety and already bounding up the stairs to his third-floor walk-up apartment to fetch the trap while his bemused wife looked on. A minute later, he was back with the curious metal device in hand. It was as long as his arm and as wide as my head. I looked from the dragon, who was larger than Papa’s six-foot-six frame, to the trap and back again.
“I don’t think she’ll fit. Do you have a bigger one?”
The older gentleman shook his head regretfully.
“What do we bait it with it?” Papa asked.
“I’ll find out,” I said when no one volunteered anything. I whipped out our scribe’s phone and scrolled down to the next suggestion. “One of our awesome readers must have some advice on that. We can’t be the only characters who’ve ever been in this situation.”
“Okay, Kort says to ‘tell the dragon a complex riddle.’ Does anyone know any good riddles?”
I looked at the group of onlookers which was growing by the minute as word of this spectacle reached the other buildings in the complex. Melinda kept glancing warily at the door, keeping watch for the members of the board.
Though, I’d like to see them pry the dragon loose. Doesn’t the maintenance our scribe forks over to them every month include vermin removal?
That should include a certain dragon, right? But so far, they’ve made themselves scarce. I wonder why.
“Do your wordsmithing thing and whip up a riddle to bedevil the dragon.”
Melinda just looked at me like I’d grown two heads then she patted down her pockets for her phone.
“Let me google that.”
Okay, so that’s a ‘no’ on the riddles. I consulted her phone again.
“Maybe one of our awesome readers sent in a riddle.”
“Is that my phone in your hot little hands?”
“Yes,” I said distractedly, but Melinda didn’t reply. I took that as tacit approval to continue using it.
“How about another suggestion,” said Uncle Miren as he hobbled through the crowd. “Let me pass. That’s my nephew over there.”
“Do you know any riddles?” I asked him.
“Just one. Why is a dragon like a doubloon?”
“I don’t know. Why are they alike?”
“You’re supposed to ask the dragon that.” Uncle Miren ruffled my hair then went to stand by Papa.
“We’re both shiny, and we prey on your mind if you lose us. You’ll have to do better than that,” said the dragon as she rolled her glowing eyes at me.
“We need another suggestion.” I scrolled through the messages on our scribe’s phone again.
“Pat says, ‘there’s a new gang of thieves roaming the countryside, and their specialty is dragon hoards. In particular, 1s-and-0s dragons since the skinny on their hoards is they are particularly valuable goodies for trade on the 1s-and-0s highway.’ Did you hear that Newsletter-Dragon? Your horde is in danger. You should go save it or something.”
A loud growl made me jump, and everyone took a giant step backward except Papa, but he had a green-glowing shield around him and me too because I took a giant step sideways and crashed into his thigh.
Papa patted me on the head, but I shrank back as the dragon loomed over us. Her tail was still wrapped tightly around the boiler system, and she was glowing a molten shade of red. The boiler system melted, and liquified metal dripped into silver puddles on the ground. That can’t be good.
But heat wafted off her, and we all basked in it as the temperature rose twenty degrees to somewhere in the seventies, and it felt nice. But her ire was a little frightening though especially her flashing eyes. I stepped behind Papa and his magic-saturated cloak for added protection.
“If those thieves come anywhere near my horde, I’ll incinerate them, and everyone they ever met.”
While I cowered behind Papa and his magic, I scrolled through the advice we’d received for something to calm the enraged dragon down before she melted everything in sight including us. ‘Puddle’ is not a good look for me or Papa.
Thank you again to everyone who wrote it with advice. You rock! We’ll see you next week for the conclusion of our dragonish problem. And if you have any more suggestions, please send them to me.
Until next time, dear reader
This is Ran, son of Sarn, “The Phone Ninja,” wishing you a great week! 😉
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