“Gleep!”
I’ve never understood how a dragon’s tongue can be slimy and sandpapery at the same time, but it is. Well, at least the one belonging to my dragon is.
“Down, fella . . . dow . . . hey! C’mon, Gleep. Stop it!”
“Gleep!” my pet declared as he deftly dodged my hands and left one more slimy trail across my face. Obedient to a fault. They say you can judge a man’s leadership ability by how well he handles animals.
“Darn it, Gleep! This is serious!”
I’ve often tried to convince Aahz that my dragon actually understands what I say. Whether that was the case here or if he was just sensitive to my tone, Gleep sank back on his haunches and cocked his head attentively.
“That’s better,” I sighed, daring to breathe through my nose again. Dragons have notoriously bad breath (hence the expression “dragon mouth”), and my pet’s displays of affection had the unfortunate side effect of making me feel more than slightly faint. Of course, even breathing through my mouth, I could still taste it.
“You see, I’ve got a problem . . . well, several problems, and I thought maybe talking them out without being interrupted might…”
“Gleep!”
The tongue slicked out again, this time catching me with my mouth open. While I love my pet, there are times I wish he were . . . smaller. Times like this . .. and when I have to clean out his litter box.
“You want I should lean on the dragon for you, Boss?”
I looked around and discovered Nunzio sitting on one of the garden benches.
“Oh. Hi, Nunzio. What are you doing here? I thought you and Guido usually made yourself scarce when I was exercising Gleep.”