My old friend, Marge and I decided it was time for us to go out for a “writing” date. All of the bookstores were crammed with holiday shoppers, screaming kids and study groups. Rude! We found ourselves at a bar across the street from the mall. Needless to say, after a few rounds of margaritas, there wasn’t much writing that took place. There was of course a whole lot of table dancing between the two of us. No, we don’t have video. Why? Because none of this true. Sorry about your luck. Anyway, during the last round of dancing I very gracefully fell off the table, taking with me my manuscript and Marge’s. We’re old school so we wrote everything down on loose sheets of paper and man did those papers fly everywhere. At this point, the bartender….Morris asked us to leave. Rather than take the time to sort out which pages belonged to whom…or is it who? I can never remember, but I’m supposed to be drunk so that’s okay.
Rather than take the time to sort out the pages, we crammed everything into one massive pile and stumbled out of the bar. We performed a treacherous rendition of “All About that Bass” as we walked down the street, scaring people along the way. While we were making our way home, this is what became of our characters – trapped in a jumbled up mess of papers.
“Wait a minute!” Celeste clapped her hands, trying to get everyone’s attention. When that failed, she stuck her fingers in her mouth and sent a piercing whistle through the air. Silence swallowed the room like a black hole. “Great,” she continued, “now that I have everyone’s attention….It seems here there’s been a collision and we’re all mixed up. But have no fear, we’ll get this thing resolved and get back to our stories in no time.”
Celeste stared out at her audience. Amethyst was standing next to Mrs. Simmons’, trying to comfort her while Mrs. Simmons dried her eyes. Just moments before, a dragon entered the room, swallowing Mrs. Simmons’ invisible dog’s leash.
“Poor Victoria.” Mrs. Simmons sniffed, dabbing her nose. “My poor, poor Victoria. Now she’s lost for good.” She buried her head against Amethyst’s shoulders.
“Victoria is fine,” Amethyst said, patting Mrs. Simmons on the shoulder. “Maybe now you can move on. There are a lot of dogs looking for a good home. Have you–”
Mrs. Simmons wailed at the thought of replacing her poor Victoria.
Across the room, Dr. Palmer sat, still confined in his strait jacket. “You’re a king, you say?”
A regal gentleman with pointed ears sat in a chair, looking down at Dr. Palmer. “Yes. A very powerful one, indeed.”
“Say,” Dr. Palmer continued, “You could be of use to me. We should have a chat later.”
The king turned his elven nose up at Dr. Palmer. “You can’t be serious. I’m an immortal creature….I think…and I don’t associate with feeble humans.”
The dragon, having swallowed an invisible/dead dog and its leash, lost interest in his surroundings. However, Celeste had his full attention. Dressed in her usual bohemian attire – a peasant top and flowing skirt accessorized with a belt of bells, she looked like his favorite dish – a gypsy. While she spoke, trying to calm all of the confused characters, he stalked her – moving so as to not draw any attention to himself.
The dragon came up behind Celeste as she addressed her audience.
“Okay, okay, I know this is a HUGE mess, so here’s what we’re going to do. Everyone who is part of Marge Cutter’s mid-grade fantasy series, move to the left half of the room. Everyone who is part of A. Marie’s NA Paranormal series–” she turned toward Amethyst, “Psst. Is she still calling it a paranormal series or is it a paranormal comedy series?”
Amethyst shrugged her shoulders. “Hell if I know! I don’t care what she calls it as long as she sits her butt down and finishes it.”
“Excellent point,”Celeste said, giving Amethyst the thumbs up. “Right.” She clapped her hands again. “As I was saying, if you are in A. Marie’s series go to the right half of the room.”
The dragon sniffed the air around Celeste. He backed up to give himself room to pounce. He jumped.
Celeste backhanded the dragon, sending him threw the air into the wall. The drywall cracked behind him and birds covered in glitter circled over his head.
“Back off, Cujo,” Celeste scolded. “I’m a Wiccan. Not a gypsy and if you come at me like that again, I’ll unleash a wrath on you unlike anything you’ve ever seen.”
“Here, here!” The King shouted. “You’d do well in our world. What do you say? Join us?”
“Sorry, King,” Celeste said. “My job in this world isn’t done….and won’t be if A. Marie keeps getting drunk when she’s supposed to be writing.”
Special thanks to Marge Cutter for letting me hijack her characters for this blog post. To see the post she wrote that inspired this one, check it out here. Marge Cutter is the author of a children’s book and has written two out of three books in her mid-grade fiction series, Paths of Destiny. She has at least one fan eagerly awaiting the release of these books.
P.S., No dragons – real or imagined – were harmed during the writing of this blog post.