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“He’s a villain,” I said. “It’s what they do. They have to broadcast their entire plan when they think they’ve won because no one else will ever listen to them.”
“My life,” he muttered. “This is my life. I chose this to be my life. By choice.”
“I do not. Watch. I Spy with my little eye something that is the castle.” “Gary.” “Sam has a guess, everyone! The joy I feel is rapturous!” “Is it the castle?” “Yes,” he said beaming. “You are so good at thi—Wait. Dammit.”
I WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING to a pile of stones next to my head. Tiggy laughed. Ryan’s eyes narrowed. Gary said, “Wow. How did that happen?”
“I promise, because when I look upon these stars, there is nothing I wish for more than you.”
“Oh my gods,” I said. “You are like the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. Damn you, Tiggy. You can take one broom.” “Seven brooms,” he said. “Three.” “Two,” he countered. “I don’t think you’re doing it right,” Gary said fondly. “One,” he shouted. “One broom!” He cackled and ran toward the brooms. “See?” I said to Kevin. “Compromise.” “Okay,” Kevin said. “Here is my compromise. I take all my stuff and I won’t burn your face off.” “You can’t compromise with violence.” “I’m a dragon,” he said. “I can do pretty much anything I want.”
“I’ll be honest,” I said. “That’s rather embarrassing. And also? So many remarks make much more sense now. I really need to be more aware of my surroundings.” And then I walked into a large boulder. “Oh, honey.” Gary didn’t miss a beat. “It was embarrassing for all of us.”
“Sam, are you going to get up, or is this the part of the day where we lie down in the dirt?”
The hornless gay unicorn named Gary said, “Um. What did you say?” Fifteen-year-old Sam said, “Nothing! Nothing. Um. I have to go. Upstairs. To… touch. The walls.” The hornless gay unicorn named Gary said, “Why don’t you just go introduce yourself?” Fifteen-year-old Sam said, “Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Goodbye.”
“Matta, huh?” I said. “Can his first name be Wassa?” Gary stared at me blankly. “Because then his full name would be Wassa Matta.” Ryan snorted loudly and covered it up with a very fake cough. Gary knocked me off the chair. “You are not allowed to make jokes anymore.”
“Oops,” I said. “Oops,” the King said. “What oops?” “Okay, so, how would you feel if you looked like you had boobs?” “Is that a hypothetical question?” “Hypothetically… no. More like that’s what I painted somehow and will now be a part of the finished product because I don’t know how to fix it. Nor do I know if I want to.” “Am I busty?” “Very. You also have three of them.” “Good. Proceed.”
“Oops,” I said. “Oops?” “So, hypothetically. Okay, that was a lie. It’s not hypothetical. I painted you to be as big as the Great White and you’re destroying Meridian City like a giant monster. My muse is obviously a surrealist and I must follow her into the artistic abyss.” “Am I breathing fire?” My eyes widened. “You could be. I have so much puce.” “Make it so.”
“Normally, I would only feel the need to encourage any pursuit you feel is necessary,” he said. “I don’t know that art is one of them.” “You say that only because you haven’t seen this yet.” “How many breasts do I have in your painting?” “Three.” “And how many do I have in real life?” “What? You don’t have any—oh, I see what you did there. It’s called artistic license.”
“That’s a thing,” I insisted. “Everyone knows that’s a thing.” “I don’t think that’s a thing,” the King said. “You don’t get to have an opinion,” I told him. “You’re just a king of an entire country who has an infinite amount of responsibility and a wealth of knowledge far beyond my own and are pretty awesome. You wouldn’t know anything about it.” “How I treasure you,” the King said, smiling quietly at me.
“They just tried to pimp me out,” I said, sounding completely awed. “Why does that always happen in this room?” “Remember,” Randall murmured from behind me, “I get ninety percent of all your take. Don’t make me slap you. You Randall’s girl, now.”
“Why is that a thing?” Randall asked Morgan. “Haven’t had time to study it,” Morgan said. “Frankly, I don’t know if I want to know. I go with the flow now.” “That just means you’ve given up understanding your charges.” “There was no hope in understanding them.” “Ah,” Randall said. “Reality’s a bitch, ain’t it?”
“What they doing?” Tiggy asked. “Well,” Gary said. “When a knight finally pulls his head out of his ass at the last possible moment obviously staged for dramatic purposes and admits that he loves a wizard’s apprentice, they go into their room and do a special hug that—” “Butt sex,” Tiggy said. “Yes, Tiggy. Butt sex.”
