The Masked Refrigerator Avenger

Yes, you read that right. I, Ran, Sarn’s beloved son, sidekick, and reason he gets out of bed in the morning, went on a strange adventure this week involving masks, refrigerators, and dragons of all things.

(So far, no one has conducted any scientific studies about whether fictional characters can spread the virus, so we mask up when we’re in your world. We don’t mask up in our world because a mask can’t protect you from bad magic. You need Papa’s shields for that.)

We masked the Scribe too. Well, I did. Papa was kind of mortified at the time. For a long moment, he stared in speechless shock at the masks we were wearing. They all had his face on them. 🙂

I wasn’t going to share this because I just had these made to see Papa’s reaction, (and it was priceless), but several people stopped our Scribe to ask where she got the mask. If you want Papa on your face, you can get the mask here. It just didn’t seem right not to tell you about it since people who don’t know us were asking about it.

Before I get to our strange adventure, I have some book news. The new cover for His Angelic Keeper #1 is coming along. The original font didn’t work with the new design, and we noticed that similar books aren’t using that flowery font. We’re trying the same font that we use on the Curse Breaker series since her books are part of our sister series, and we see a lot of books with similar looking fonts. Fingers crossed that works.

Once we have this nailed down, the designer can work on the cover for His Angelic Keeper #2 Hidden, which is in the editing stage and still coming soon. Our Scribe somehow lost a chapter from the book over the weekend, and she was bummed about that.

That’s why I busted out the masks shown above. I was saving them for a special occassion, but she needed a laugh, and Papa’s reaction was well worth it. 🙂 Anyway, back to our strange tale.

The day started out like any other Saturday. Papa wandered in with a yummy flatbread with berries and nuts and butter. While we ate, Uncle Miren and I asked him questions about what he did all night at work, and Papa gave us his usual cryptic answers in between yawns. Papa is annoyingly terse at times. 😦

When he’d had enough bread and questions, Papa flopped onto the mattress that takes up the back half of our cave and went to sleep. His magic didn’t come out to play. 😦 Sometimes, it does, but not always.

Uncle Miren opened the book he’d been reading and resumed his schoolwork, and that left me with nothing to do. Never a good situation. I’m a kid in a fantasy world where magic is real. The amount of trouble I can get into is limitless.

Since no one was watching me, I picked up Bear, my stuffed companion, but his button eyes were dark. His spirit must be out on an adventure without me. He does that sometimes. It’s so not fair. I set him down on the mattress, then crawled through the purple-glowing hoop nearby.

Ouch. After a short fall through a purple-glowing tunnel, I landed on a book-covered couch in Melinda’s (my Scribe’s) tiny apartment. She sat at the kitchen table, watching a webinar about some marketing stuff, so I swiped her phone and found a softer place to sit and scroll through your advice about what to do about that dragon.

Brian suggested that we let the Newsletter-Dragon loose in a cave full of gnomes. 0_o (He doesn’t say where we should find these gnomes.) When she falls asleep, he advises us to hobble the dragon somehow and clip her wings, which raises all kinds of interesting questions… Can you actually cut the wings of a dragon made of code chunks?

While I pondered that and where I might find a cave full of gnomes willing to knock the dragon out for me, (I assume that’s what Brian meant because our dragon doesn’t eat people, just malicious bytes of code), the refrigerator made a strange sound.

I knocked on its door. Maybe someone was in trouble inside it. You never know what’s hiding inside appliances, especially the big ones. Something was definitely in there, straining the motor. Instead of the fridge’s usual hum, it sounded like struggling exhaust fan.

I cracked open the door to have a peek inside. Guess who was in there, drunkenly dancing around the melting plant butter.

The Newsletter-Dragon.

She had somehow shrunken down to the size of a chicken egg, and she was singing as she splashed around in a tub of melting plant-based butter. (Our Scribe can’t have milk products.)

“What are you doing in there?” I asked.

“What do you do with a drunken dragon? What do you do with a drunken dragon? What do you do with a drunken dragon early in the morning?” sang that bad dragon.

Usually, the dragon glowed blue, but she was looking more greenish now with the dairy-free butter slathered all over her.

The dragon spread her forelimbs and did a little tap dance, sending plant-based butter flying. “I’m singing in the–” the dragon trailed off as she looked down at what she stood in. “The butter?” she added, then she went back to stomping in the golden puddles that were expanding as I let the warm air from the apartment into the fridge.

I closed the refrigerator door and padded the three feet that separated it from my hard-working Scribe. This wasn’t a situation I could handle, so I tapped Melinda on the arm to get her attention. When she looked over at me, I told her about the dragon in the refrigerator. “I think you need a new fridge. I don’t know what that dragon did it to it, but it’s not cold inside anymore.”

“It’s not?” Melinda shot out of her chair and grabbed a thermometer. She found the freezer was in the low 20s (degrees Fahrenheit ) at the top and in the low 30s at the bottom, but the fridge was 67 degrees on the top shelf closest to the non-working vents and the dancing and singing dragon.

This didn’t change after leaving it closed on the highest setting for an hour, so it was good that we moved all the food that would fit into the freezer while the thermometer sat in the fridge. We left the dragon in there since there was nothing more she could do it. And what do you do with a drunken dragon, anyway?

Well, we need to do something about her before the new fridge arrives, so if you have any advice, hit reply and tell us!

And that’s it for this week. I have to figure out what to do with a drunken, butter-covered dragon made out of code. All help appreciated!

—Ran, son of Sarn, masked avenger of refrigerators




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