Warning: Dragon Meals Are Made For Dragons

Grabby clutched at the damp slice in the door frame as he got to his feet. Torn books littered the floor. Scattered pieces of pages lay about like feathers. Broken support frames toppled the far shelf so that books slid to the floor. Torn pages soaked in wet carpet.

He glanced into the maintenance room. An empty bucket and an empty space on the shelf glared back at him. Claws clicked together. He entered the closet and paced in a circle under the swinging bulb. He scratched at his lower lid while examining the cracked floor.

Gold doubloons piled near the soil drain received a firm kick. Thick gold pieces flew toward the shelf. One actually clattered against an old hammer.

“Owwww!” Grabby jumped while holding his clawed foot.

When his foot stopped throbbing, he returned to worrying. He couldn’t chase Darius, that was far too dangerous. He didn’t even have a tracker on him, though the mop’s aura would be enough to get a sense of his location if he didn’t go too far.

Grabby shook his eye. He leaned over the shelf to think for a moment. The mop wasn’t coming back to him. Trouble would trace back to him if Darius got caught with the mop. Grabby needed to clean up the evidence so it couldn’t be traced back to him. But a bigger issue remained. Grabby’s posture stiffened. He screamed at the top of voice into the library.

“Jorseph! Where did you run off too!? Get out here this instant and return my book!”

No answer. Water dripped into Grabby from the top of the door frame. The eye blinked to squeeze it together before shaking it off. Water trickled down the shelves and the wall. Grabby darted through the aisles to the reading desks. A sticky note in the northern annex of the library explained Jorseph had gone out for lunch early.

Running water hissed from the men’s toilet room nearby. The carpet suddenly felt damp, then soaking wet. It squished under his feet. He craned backward and noticed the darker carpet coming from the restroom door.

The door flew open with the knob banging the wall stopper. Running water hissed from a crumbling toilet. Grabby hurriedly turned the water nozzle. Water sprayed against his eye until he finally sealed the intake.

“I’ll murder him myself! Fidglesticks!”

-----

He kept his hood up and his face down toward the sidewalk with the spellbook wedged under his arm. His other hand shuffled the lunch money in his pants pocket.

Beating sun overheated his tiny new body. Sweat moistened his underarms, but he couldn’t dare take the hoodie off. A tightened belt kept his pants up. The sun made the soft skin on the back of his hands itch and redden. He’d never been this sensitive to it before.

The shade of the indoors had never been more welcome, yet the inside of MukDrogan’s was even hotter. It felt like a furnace. His skin dried out. Something was wrong with this body. It kept producing heat even in high temperatures. Water leaked from the pores on his skin. It dampened his clothes. His black hair soaked. The range of temperatures he could endure comfortably had been halved.

Luckily, it was a few hours until the lunch rush. He’d never thought of coming before it got crowded. An elderly couple waited for their food and few families were already dining, but that was it. Jorseph passed the automated servers because they didn’t accept cash. His mom didn’t trust him with their credit cards after he opened a hundred loot boxes in Baseball Pro 5000.

His usual server was working today.

Maratana looked down at him, then suddenly her eyes went all a glimmer, “Welcome to MukDrogan’s. What can I get for you?”

Jorseph looked hurt that he wasn’t recognized, but thought better of complaining. The height disadvantage became obvious once at the counter. He wasn’t as short as the imp, but now he was no taller than a late grade schooler. His head just rose above the counter to be able to see the server and the menu. Hands pressed the counter as he pushed himself up.

“I’ll have the MukChicken, Muktatorsticks, and a Mukfizz, large size please. For here please.”

Eyes widened as Maratan looked down on him, “Wow! You speak great Sunese. How long did you study? Are you from FiftyStars? I heard that’s where a lot of other kin live. I’ve never seen one like you before. But we do have an imp that runs a used book library a few blocks from here.”

Jorseph put the money on the counter, “I live here. I’m Sunese. And I already know about the library. Just give me my food please. I’m hungry and thirsty.”

“Ooooookay,” she handed him a receipt, “Your number is thirty-four, please wait until you’re called, then pick up your food at the counter to the left.”

“I come here every day; you don’t have to explain it.”

She smiled politely as if he misspoke, “Sure, sure, have a nice day sir or mam.”

When they called his number, Jorseph slid his tray off the counter. The weight of the meal shocked him. It almost went to the floor as he struggled to catch his balance. The tall cup with the Mukfizz wobbled. A purple scaled hand from behind the counter caught the drink. Jorseph stabilized his posture with the book remaining tucked under his arm.

“You okay little guy? Would you like me to carry it for you?”

“I got it now, but ummm, thanks anyway.”

Jorseph plopped the tray on a table to the far corner. The spellbook landed on the seat next to him. The MukChicken smelt amazing even to his weak human nose. Saliva already flowed from the corners of his mouth. He popped open the lid. A huge rotisserie style chicken smoked in front of him, bigger than ever. He picked it up with his bare hands. A loud yelp followed. The MukChicken dropped back in the container. Hot grease shook off his burning hands.

“Ow! Ow! Oww! That hurts!”

He looked at his greasy, throbbing, palms. They burned. He ran to the toilet to pour cold water over his hands. He looked in the mirror and nearly sobbed.

“What kind of weakling creature am!? That book has to change me back; it just has too!”

Jorseph returned with a small pile of paper towels. The grease never bothered his scales, but the slimy feeling made this new skin itch. Grease didn’t wash off as easily either. Sensitive skin reddened as he rubbed it too vigorously with the napkins. The smallest sensations were acute, but most of the sensations were painful. His body kept yelling at him not to abuse it.

The MukChicken needed time to cool, but he could touch the potato sticks without burning his little fingers off. They were really crunchy. The first bite cut the roof of his mouth. That hurt.

He didn’t have a sense of his teeth, which felt small and vulnerable. The second and third bite of the potato stick took more care to avoid the injury. They were really good. The salt flavoring popped out more than usual. The sticks were coated in glistening salt that made his cut burn. His tongue felt dry. The corners of his mouth burned. In shame, he scrapped excess salt off his potato sticks with a paper towel.

It never bothered him before, but today the amount of salt on the potato sticks made him feel ill. He took huge gulps of his Mukfizz from the large straw to wash down the salt. An overwhelming bubbling filled his throat. Bubbles shot out his nose. Fizz poured from his mouth. It stained the front of his hoodie. He shifted to keep it off the book. More fizz bloomed from his nostrils.

Laughing bellowed from a nearby table, “Get a load of this foreign mammal trying to eat a dragon meal.”

“Oh my gawd, do you think it’ll notice I’m filming it.”

“Dude, he can easily hear you.”

“As if a mammal could ever even understand Sunese.”

Jorseph turned to them and stared before speaking, “I can understand everything you’re saying about me and my hearing works just fine! Please turn off your camera.”

They looked away and returned to downing their MukSteaks quietly. Jorseph realized his MukChicken had cooled. A chomp right into that leg bone would be so satisfying. He picked up the chicken, opened his little maw as wide as he could, and bit down hard into the leg bone.

A howl of intense pain echoed through the restaurant.

The MukChicken dropped on the floor. Uproarious laughter erupted from the table nearby. Jorseph pushed curled fingers against his cheek. The molars on the left side of his mouth throbbed in protest. Not so much as a toothmark showed on the MukChicken bone.

Jorseph slammed his forehead on the table and cursed at the spellbook.