Wyvern

Wyvern scoots himself to a messy halt as he reaches Tim B. Head and Mage Noir, glancing behind himself for a moment as a furious Freya B begins beating the pie-tossing law officers to a cream-covered pulp. The overgrown lizard shakes his wings and wobbles in his semi-inebriated state, turning his head back in the direction of the two Pen newcomers and raising a claw before an uncomfortably queasy expression falls over his snout. Mage Noir grins victoriously, mistaking his delivered baby for the almost dragonic nausea that too many Bruteweisers had induced. His grin promptly fades, however, as Wyvern taps a claw on his chest and belches a burst of flame, which accidentally engulfs and instantly incinerates the Wyvern baby. Once the flame has cleared, all that remains is the ashes of a Wyvern baby costume and a nervous-looking imp carrying a large celebrity tabloid camera. "Greetingssss guys, welcome to th'party!" Wyvern guffaws and shoves a few wine glasses and beer bottles into Tim and Mage Noir's hands, oblivious to the paparrazi at hand. "Hash any of you seen CheerMynxshie? Ah'm lookin' for CheerMynxshie." "Wyvern." Tim's thunderous voice causes Wyvern to pause. The giant insurance investigator waits until the lizard is looking up at him before continuing. "Tim B. Head. I had a question regarding-" "Th'anssswer is NO!" Wyvern pulls out a signed Almost Report poster and places it in one of the notches of Tim's enormous belt. "Only ONE ssssigned possster per fan. If ya wanna getsss more paraphenalia signed, we can work out something for an extra 10 geld a ssscribble." Wyvern pats Tim on the gigantic leg in a good-natured manner and turns to dash off in pursuit of CheerMynx, accidentally swatting the tabloid imp with his tail and sending it flying across the room where it lands on a sizzling deviled imp platter. The overgrown lizard's path is promptly blocked by Mage Noir, however, who pockets the magically altered photo he was carrying of the stripper with Wyvern's baby and raises a hand. "Wyvern. Mage Noir." The supposed sleuth doesn't bother to shake the lizard's claw, opting instead to pull out a pad of paper and a quill. "What do you have to say regarding the supposed scandal between you and-" "Lishten, Mage man, I'd really love to talk ssscandalsss but right now I gotta go tell CheerMynxshie dis joke I jussst heard!" Wyvern shoves a card with a portable crystal ball incantation number into the scandal-breaker's hands. "I'll be here all night if ya wantsss to talk later!" With that, Wyvern bows his head tipsily to Mage Noir, almost hitting him in the face with his horns in the process. He makes his way around the persistent Private Wand by creating space using one of his wings, then dashes off in what he drunkenly assumes is CheerMynx's direction. Mage Noir immediately sets off in pursuit of the lizard, but is promptly trampled by a second wave of law enforcement officers with Wyvern's arrest on their mind. Needless to say, the law officers' iron spike heeled boots invoke urgent thoughts of healing spells in a certain investigator's mind...

Dawgrim inadvertently wraps his tongue back around the pink eraser as he lies in the desk heap, his vision of Triska’s skirt hem replaced by an imagined image of the bombshell wearing skin-tight gym shorts and an extra-showy sports blazer. He lays in the comfort of his table wreck for several minutes before a troglyodyte passes by and drops a note off on what was previously his desktop. Dawgrim snatches up the note and opens it, only to crane his neck as he finds the next page of the show’s script written inside. “Ssso, how’d you like class today Trisssk…?” Dawgrim raises a brow and sits upright in the mess of broken wood and mixed coursework, pausing in his dialogue to read over a scene meant to directly follow the class flirtation scene. His jaw drops open when he realizes that he’s missing out on the scripted opportunity to chat with Triska B’Shell about the merits of sex ed. “Chee – err, Trissska, w-w-wait up!” Dawgrim scrambles out of the desk wreckage at an alarmingly fast rate, dashing out of the room in pursuit of Triska and causing the cameras to spin as he zooms by. “CUT!” --- Next time, on Dawgrim’s Reek *cue still shot of an unprofessional mud wrestling ring labeled “Goblyn Gym”* Dawgrim and Triska decide to meet after class behind the sports building for a little privacy and a whole lot of heat *cue image of Dawgrim’s tail stinger landing in a little stick fireplace labeled “heater,” which is located directly behind the mud wrestling ring “gym.”* But when the Jock drops in to beat the living friskiness out of Dawgrim, will our hero be able to man up? *cue a repeat of image from the last preview, showing an unhappy Dawgrim chained down in a goblin detention hall next to hot pokers used for torturing delinquents* Dawgrim’s Reek episode 3: “(Daw)Grim Gym”

Last time, on Dawgrim’s Reek *cue an ultra-dramatic slow motion re-cap of a troglyodyte throwing his blonde wig off.* Dawgrim confronted his rivals in a bare-chested, mano-a-mano heartthrob duel for Triska B’Shell’s heart *Cue image of Dawgrim, Evil Orcy, and the Jock staring at one another passively with blank expressions as they realize that there aren’t any stunt doubles.* But, with Triska’s verdict lingering and her teasing skills in full effect, will any suitor be able to get a piece of the action? *Cue panning close-up shot on the shower door with the water running and a silhouette behind it. The door opens on the camera, causing it to fall over.* And now, Dawgrim’s Reek continues… The camera crew turns its lenses in the direction of this month’s set piece, which consists of one of Venefyxatu’s necromantic sacrifice chambers that’s been transformed into a brightly lit goblin academy classroom. Many rows of seat-desks raided from goblin junkyards line the room in a crooked manner, with crudely dressed troglyodyte fill-in actors seated in the majority of them. The desk seats all face a lecture stand that’s been set up where the room’s sacrificial alter would normally be. Ominous torches typically used for sacrifices surround the large sheet of black painted wood that constitutes the blackboard, and a miniature piece of metal rests next to the chalk in case any screeching sound effects are needed. The cameras briefly pan over the barred exit doors of both sides of the chamber before their vision is blocked by the obtrusive font of the show's title: Dawgrim’s Reek Sponsored by Almost Dragonic Brand Shredded Armadillo Hide Brushes™ Once the annoying letters have disappeared, the cameras re-focus their attention on the black board of wood, where a stout troglyodyte in an ill-fitted plaid shirt pretends to scribble things. The troglyodyte raises his script and reads with a lack of enthusiasm befitting of his lines, droning in a nasal voice induced by a clothespin squeezed over his nose. “Blah blah blah sex ed. Blah blah blah. Blah blah blah 101 blah.” The cameras pan back as the goblin academy teacher continues to attempt writing things on the rather difficult board. They pass by an attentive troglyodyte, a bored troglyodyte, a doodling troglyodyte, a yawning troglyodyte, and a snoozing troglyodyte (who’s supposed to be awake, but is too bored by the script) before finally reaching Dawgrim. The coolest kid in Biology class leans back in his seat with his hands behind his head, rolling a black toothpick chipped from the blackboard in his mouth and standing out like a red rose in a sea of gray… and not just because of his scales. The overgrown lizard’s custom painted purple jacket and white open-collared button-down shirt challenged the show’s limited fashion budget. Dawgrim flashes the “Made with Almost Dragonic Brand Shredded Armadillo Hide Brushes™” tag on the side of his jacket, then pulls out a piece of paper and begins scribbling something. “Blah blah blah. Blah blah blah his drumstick blah blah. Blah blah blah.” Dawgrim glances over one row and four seats to the right to make sure that Triska B’Shell is there, then grins and scribbles a little heart with a question mark next to it onto his sheet. He signs it “DG” and then crumples it into a little ball, rubbing his snout against it for good luck. He carefully aims and tosses it in Triska’s direction, only to miss her by a solid three rows and watch his paper fall straight into a wastebasket. Grumbling to himself, Dawgrim reaches back into his Almost Dragonic Brand Goblin Dynamite Rucksack™ and pulls out a flat rock. After chiseling the same message into the stone with the tip of his ultra slick comb, he aims and tosses the rock in Triska’s direction… only to accidentally knock one of the more attentive troglyodytes into a profound sleep. The naughtiness of it all does seem to catch Triska’s attention ever so slightly, however. “Blah blah her gravy blah. Blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah.” Dawgrim flashes a winning grin as he tries to gage Triska’s reaction from where he’s sitting. Winking at her, he brushes one claw through his wavy black wig and uses his other to unbutton one or two more notches of his already loose shirt. The goblin academy hunk rolls down the right sleeve of his jacket and attempts his best stereotypical muscle flex, nodding to himself until he notices that Triska’s eyes are aimed back in the direction of the blackboard. “Blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah. Blah blah seasoning blah blah blah.” Determined to win back Triska’s attention, Dawgrim tugs a pink eraser jammed into the side of his desk loose and turns it in his claws. Leaning over to the left so that Triska might have a chance to see his stunt, Dawgrim lets his forked tongue slide across the front of the eraser in a slow and lascivious manner. He slowly coils his tongue around the length of the pink object with a grin, narrowing his eyes until he realizes that his tongue is now knotted around the eraser and refuses to become uncoiled…

Wyvern steps into the Cabaret Room and immediately pauses to examine the latest in Pen tagging, tracing a claw along the intricate cursive font and twisting his snout as he notices a hint of uncertainty in the final letter F. He scratches his chin for a moment, then pulls out a ragged Almost Dragonic Brand Shredded Armadillo Hide Brush™ and a spittoon filled with brown paint. The reptilian Elder licks his lips and squints as he finds the proper spot for his little attempt at graffiti. He overlaps the tail-end of Freya's tag date as he begins scrawling in a large, extra-indecipherable font: ANONYMOUS BERSERK HEALER ELF: PLEASE NOTE, WHOEVER YOU ARE, THAT YOU'RE MORE THAN WELCOME TO WRITE HERE REGARDLESS OF YOUR RANK. WHETHER YOU'RE AN INITIATE, A PAGE, A QUILLBEARER, A TROUBADOR, A STORYTELLER, A POET, A BARD, AN ELDER, AN ADMINISTRATOR, A LURKER OR JUST SALINYE FOOLIN AROUND, ANYTHING YOU CHOOSE TO WRITE AND SHARE HERE WILL BE TREASURED. MAYBE NOT TREASURED AS MUCH AS GELD, BUT TREASURED ALL THE SAME. JUST KNOW THAT THESE WALLS AND HALLS ARE ENTIRELY PUBLIC AND FREE FOR YOU TO SCRIBBLE UPON. I HOPE THAT THIS MESSAGE WILL REASSURE YOU FOR YOUR NEXT PIECE, AND THAT YOUR DOUBTS WILL FADE IN DUE TIME WHEN YOU COME TO KNOW OUR VARIOUS KIND-HEARTED ARTISANS. ONE THING IN PARTICULAR THAT YOU SHOULD ALWAYS WRITE UPON IS OZYMANDIAS, AS HE LOVES BEING COVERED IN PAINT AT ALL TIMES. ANYWAY, I'VE GOT TO GO SCHEME NOW, BUT I HOPE THIS MESSAGE REACHES OUT TO YOU AND GIVES YOU SOME EXTRA MOTIVATION FOR YOUR PENMANSHIP. PERHAPS SOME DAY, WE'LL MEET IN THE MIDST OF PAINTING AND WILL BE ABLE TO EXCHANGE FRIENDLY GRAFFITI JABS. UNTIL THEN I REMAIN, SINCERELY YOURS, ANONYMOUS GREEDY LIZARD 2/19/09 Wyvern pauses for a moment and wipes the paint from his horns, head, snout, mouth, claws, arms, hide, wings, legs and feet. The overgrown lizard tilts his head to admire his work, then picks up his brush again and adds: AND DON'T FORGET TO INVEST IN ALMOST DRAGONIC BRAND SHREDDED ARMADILLO HIDE BRUSHES™! THE NEW MUST-HAVE GRAFFITI INVENTION OF THAT EXTREMELY SEXY GENIUS, WYVERN Q ALMOSTDRAGON!

Good poem about the struggle of living and the means of coping through faith, Peredhil. The difficulty of maintaining a semi-social outward appearance while suffering inside is something that I'm sure many of us here can relate to... it echoes with me, and is also a subject that I've seen popping up quite a bit in recent Pen poetry, which would almost be reassuring if it weren't for the thought of so many pennites suffering. Anyway, I like the way you put this poem together, with the numbness and slowing of things coming through. The capitalization at the end for the biblical reference was well done as well. Thanks for sharing this, hope you're well.

Nice poem, cryptomancer. The feelings of loss and mourning are definitely felt in the subject matter and lines dealing with separation, and I think it touches upon a side of Valentines day that a lot of people probably experience. It piques my interest in just how personal a poem this is, and also in how willing you'd be to share more personal details of your experiences in it... though the poem seems focused on reaffirming a sense of distance, and more details might bring one closer to the source of loss. Anyway, thank you for sharing this. I hope you're well.

"Gee, thanksss CheerMynx!" Wyvern's eyes turn from the shoulder straps of CheerMynx's garment to the quality of the gold "Best Pen News Presenter" statue. He pulls out a pair of janitor-approved magnifying lenses to examine it further, trying to pinpoint a price and relishing in its flashier side. "I'll be sure to find a spot to ssstore it in my humble lil' horde..." "Well, glad you like it." CheerMynx beams for a moment, her nervousness replaced with a little cat-like smile. "Anyway, like, I don't want to be in your way or anything, so I'll just-" "Oh no no!" Wyvern rummages through his equipment and digs up a shovel, a large broom, a mop and a pair of pliers. "No! I could absssolutely use your help to the fullessst. Here, why don't you start by taking the east end and sweeping up the remainsss of the fireplace. Then, you can shovel out the old envelopes near the rug ssspot over there and tidy up that overturned chair. And after that, there'sss the main floor sweep and the wall wipe-offs. And oh, let'sss not forget the ceiling primping and the re-ssstationing of Rhapsody's lounge!" The cat-like smile on CheerMynx's face is replaced with a look of dread as Wyvern shoves the various pieces of equipment in her direction, pointing and instructing her left, right and center. The Almost Intern's lower lip begins quivering a tiny bit as Wyvern finishes listing off the million different cleaning items to attend to. "Anyway, jussst let me know if you need any help, I'll be cleaning the wessst ends a bit." Wyvern cocks a claw back and pauses, suddenly visualizing the image of CheerMynx bending over and breaking a sweat in her efforts. He clears his throat loudly. "I'l uhh, be keepin an eye out for ya. Jussst in case." CheerMynx sighs and looks down at the clump of cleaning utensils shoved into her arms with an air of resignation. She pulls out the broom and gives it a little test sweep, only to notice a crumpled piece of paper that seems somewhat out of place in the otherwise fancy trashed envelopes. She reaches down and picks it up, raising a brow as she finds the words "To: CheerMynx" written on it in a familiar almost dragonic hand. "Say Wyvie? What's this?" Wyvern turns and freezes as he watches CheerMynx unravel his discarded Valentines poem, stuttering a bit and blushing deeply. "Th-that? Uhhh... w-well that'sss..."

The news cameras flicker on and pan over what might have once been Rhapsody’s personal Pen lounge, but which now looks more like a setting befitting of a pennite named Ravaged or Ransacked. Ridiculously large piles of discarded Valentines envelopes addressed to CheerMynx clutter the room, surrounding the overturned furniture and burnt out Almost Dragonic Brand Beaver Den Fireplace.™ Torn heart pillows litter the area like a symbol of what had transpired with Wyvern in the last Report, their stray feathers making the area look like the site of a mass cupid massacre. Stains and spills dot the few areas of cleanliness in Rhapsody’s quarters, varying from splashes of liquor and wine to the leftovers of a certain three-headed pet… “Note to sssself: have CheerMynx get Cerby housssebroken.” Wyvern grumbles to himself as he rubs one of the cerbihuahua’s tri-stains up with a mop head, using a large pole with a broom on its opposite end. The overgrown lizard’s janitorial garb consists of a green protective plastic vest with a bright red ‘W’ insignia on the front, along with semi-transparent plastic pants that hint at the geld-bag boxer shorts he’s wearing underneath. Latex gloves cover the lizard’s claws and horns, and a bucket of Bruteweiser mead sits next to him for dipping the mop into. Nothing eats through stains better than Bruteweiser, after all. “Let’ssss see, maybe if we hit the scattered beaver fur next…” Wyvern turns his head, only to pause as he notices the news cameras recording. He rubs his aching forehead with a latexed claw, then hisses: “Welcome to the Almost Report’s 103rd Almost a Spring Cleaning Episssode.” Wyvern sighs and slumps his wings as he looks over the extent of the mess still waiting to be cleaned, but perks his chin up in an effort to avoid succumbing to post-drunken-Valentines-blues. “I wasss plannin’ on ambushing Kikuyu and Degorram for their birthdays today, but had to decide against it when I saw how much needed to be cleaned here. The twinsss still got their respective gift boxes, though, and I hope they enjoyed’em… Happy B-day once again to you two!” Wyvern winks affectionately to the cameras, then takes a deep breath and turns back to the mess before him, deciding to focus on a section of discarded envelopes with his broomstick. The overgrown lizard grunts and visibly swings his tail back and forth through his plastic pants as he sweeps, brushing the envelopes out of sight with a little more vehemence than is necessary. “Man, I wish I had sssome of the gadgets from Werewolf XLII: Gadget Wolf at my cleaning disssposal, that’d get this place ssspiffy in no time.” Wyvern pauses for a moment and sets his broom-mop aside, shaking his head and panting as he considers his options. “If only they weren’t bent on world domination like me… sssurely there’s an Instruction Manual available for’em somewhere?” Wyvern waits for a response, only to grunt at the silence and turn in the direction of the back wall of Rhapsody’s lounge, which is smeared in chocolate and lipstick by the looks of things. The overgrown lizard sniffs at the markings and extends his forked tongue to test if the chocolate is still good, wondering if the cherry flavored lipstick is CheerMynx’s. “Can’t sssay I approve of all this new Pen graffiti… not nearly enough Almost Dragonic Brand Product ads present.” Wyvern stares up at the height of the markings and tests to see how far his mop head will go. “The bessst way to cover this stuff might be with some of Venefyxatu’s (De)motivational posters, but we’re low on stock I hear…” Wyvern grumbles and gives up on trying to reach the highest points of the wall smudges, tossing his broom-mop stick aside and flapping his wings in frustration. The overgrown lizard trudges through the post-Valentine wasteland until he finds a comfy spot of discarded envelopes to lie down on. “Of courssse, if you think this looks like a mess now, jussst wait until Snypiuer gets around to it http://www.patrickdurham.net/themightypen/index.php?showtopic=16509</a>'>28 Weeks Later.” Wyvern stares up at the mostly clean ceiling with a glum expression on his snout, stretching one of his latex gloves back and forth. “Heck, at thisss rate, the Meet the Almost Reporter Conservatory Gala will prolly be the only semi-clean Pen event left to attend…” Wyvern snorts at the thought of one of his events actually being considered “clean” in the larger context of things, then shuts his eyes and tries to avoid snoozing on the job. The reptilian Elder’s thoughts turn to whether or not CheerMynx will even show up, given the drab nature of this week’s show. He hisses quietly and crosses his latexed claws for good luck…

Earlier this week, I went and saw P.O.S, Sims, and Hand Over Fist (Mike Mictlan & Lazerbeak) at the Bottom of the Hill in San Francisco. I was excited about this show since it was a number of my current favorite rappers (the whole line-up consisted of members of Doomtree, which is my favorite rap group at the moment) and it took place at my favorite venue in San Francisco. Bottom of the Hill got sold out before the evening was out, and a lot of people in the crowd were dancing away to the music like me. Needless to say, the acts in question didn't disappoint. Hand Over Fist, a group consisting of Mike Mictlan on the rhymes and Lazerbeak on the MPC, were the first to perform. Those who read my review of Hand Over Fist's album in the Music Review thread will know how big a fan I am of these two, and the energy and drive behind their music translated predictably well to a live setting. Lazerbeak was manipulating his colossal beats on the spot while Mictlan spat his heart out, all of which made for a great set. One of my few complaints about the show in general is that at times, it may have gotten a little too loud for its own good... given the "umph" behind a lot of the beats and my postion near one of the speakers, my ears were ringing almost a day later! Can't really complain when the music was this good though... I'll just need to remember to occasionally pack a pair earplugs so I won't go deaf at 50. Sims was the next up to perform, and he killed it with a set of almost entirely new material. Sims's new tracks sounded awesome, with many of them striking me as being a lot more hype than some of his earlier quieter material. They worked great in a live setting, of course, and Sims once again demonstrated how skillful he is on the mic over the course of his set. Another thing I love about Sims's live show is that he has a way of really connecting with the crowd and vibing off of them, which makes him all the more effective at controlling them when the time is right. One new track that stood out to me was a song that Sims described as "his only story song," which seemed to cover a range of personal interactions with people Sims knew and the way they stitched his life together. Lazerbeak backed Sims behind the boards, and apparently is producing the entirety of Sims's next album... can't wait! P.O.S was the headliner of the evening and the person that most of the packed crowd had come to see, and did he disappoint after the excellent openers? Hell no! He actually improved upon his already impressive set, incorporating some electric guitar to let his punk music background shine through and working some drum machines as well. His opening track left me a bit worried as his improvisation on the screeching guitar muffled his rapping vocals (and was a bit too loud in general from where I was standing), but he came back very strong from then on out, performing mostly tracks from his brand new album as well as a couple of tracks from "Audition." It should be noted that some of these new tracks are lethal live... "Drumroll," "The Basics (Alright)," and "Savion Glover" were super great in particular. The highlight of his set and of the evening's performances, however, was when Sims and Mictlan joined P.O.S on stage to perform some collaborative tracks from the Doomtree and Hand Over Fist albums. "Shux" was amazing, "Gander Back" was insanely awesome and kicked off a Doomtree dance party as the rappers performed their verses whilst dancing in the crowd, and "Accident" was just unbelievable live. Me and several other people were yelling "There's gonna be an accident!" long before that track arrived, and when it hit home it certainly didn't let anyone down... it's just bonkers in a live setting. I hope they perform that one every tour stop. Anyway, everyone had a terrific time, P.O.S and co. included. I shook Lazerbeak's hand after the show and told him his beats were inspirational to me. Good times! Check these guys out if they're passing through your city. They're super nice people, and amazing performers. And besides, modern hip hop don't get much better than Doomtree at the moment...

A shady (scaly?) figure sneaks through the halls of the Mighty Pen Keep in the dead of night, dragging a large sack that rattles loudly and awakens each sleeping pennite whose door it passes. The shadow with horns eventually stops when it reaches the entrance of Kikuyu Black Paws and Degorram's quarters, at which point it reaches into the bag and pulls out two packages, which it places on top of different mail slots. On top of Kikuyu's mail slot: a ninja carry-on strap bag, filled with Almost Dragonic Brand Not-So-Sureikens™, an Almost Dragonic Brand Imitation Geld Belt™, a Bruteweiser chewing gum wrapper accidentally dropped, a fold-out cardboard cut-out picture of Wyvern holding a black bra, a "thank you" note for the recent kiss, and of course a pair of "I <3 Wyvern Fan Club" short shorts. On top of Degorram's mail slot: a multi-function rucksack with three different handles in case of shifting, filled with Almost Dragonic Brand Cookie Cutter Shape Sheets™, an Almost Dragonic Brand Imitation Geld Imitating Dictionary™, a Bruteweiser bottle cap accidentally dropped, a new plushy Wyvern doll for when the old one simply can't take any more hugging, a "thank you" note for the recent kiss, and of course an "I <3 Wyvern Fan Club" baby doll tee. Having dropped off the packages, the figure tags each of them "Happy Birthday. From: Anonymous Admirer" before turning to flee, getting his tail stinger caught in the carpet and stumbling in the process... OOC: Happy Birthday, Kikuyu and Degorram! Hope you have a great one.

Wyvern continues stammering as the twin sisters hand him the photograph to commemorate the occasion, their giggles echoing through his consciousness. The overgrown lizard's eyes go all googly as he processes their generous gift, his jaw still hanging agape. He swoons and raises a claw to his cheeks, testing for lipstick to make sure that what he'd just been subject to was real. Once the reptilian Elder is sure that he's not dreaming, he presses the photo up against his scaly chest with a wimpy smile, his eyes growing wide and glassy as his tongue briefly curls its way into a heart formation. Shaking himself back into focus, Wyvern glances left and right once again, only to find that the sisters have departed in a repeat of their barbeque kiss ambush. He grumbles and turns the photo in his claws as he searches around the Cabaret Room for any sign of the sneaky twins, the tingle of Kikuyu's feather against his tail lingering long after the encounter... "I knew I shoulda developed that Almost Dragonic Brand I <3 Wyvern Club Tracking System™ when I had a chance." Wyvern glances over the details of the photo once again, blood slowly trickling from his reptilian nostrils in his excitement. "Then again, nothin' like a nice sssurprise to get the almost dragonic juicesss flowing..." With that, Wyvern tucks the photo in a secure location in his pants and pursues the twins like any good reptilian skirt-chaser would, cooing their names as he dashes down the hall in a wholly directionless manner. ;-) OOC: WOOOWWW! Fantastic picture Kikuyu and Degorram! Did the two of you collaborate on it? I love the poses, the expression on Wyvern's face, the feather and cards, the styles of dress, and of course the thought and affection behind it. :-) In short, I LOVE it! Thank you sooooo much. I'm really flattered that you went through so much effort to give me something special. *attempts to hide blush unsuccessfully* Thanks once again, the two of you rock.

Wyvern scratched at his scales nervously as he watched CheerMynx roll through her pile of gifts like a kitten minion on catnip, the drunken writhing detracting from the appeal of her custom outfit more than it should have. The reptilian reporter cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, decidedly uncomfortable: “L-l-lisssten, CheerMynxie, I wanted to read you-“ “Oh my GAWD like I know I ~hic~ left it here some place!” CheerMynx speedily dug through her belongings as more Valentine cards were shoved through the cracks of Rhapsody’s door. “Y’know that they bought me like a whole comb set?! And a totally awesome ~hic~ pompom rack! “Th-that’sss g-great CheerMynx.” Wyvern tugged at his bath robe collar, visibly nervous. “O-okay, sssso here it goesss…” Wyvern took a deep breath, only to suddenly blank on his lines as CheerMynx giggled in her inebriated state. The overgrown lizard quickly pulled the poem out of his pocket to read it manually, determined to deliver his Valentine message. “T-t-tiger tiger-“ “Ohmigod, and then this one guy ~hic~ totally got me a kissing book, and hey! I haven’t opened these two candy boxes yet.” “… d-d-dressing light. Ssss-sss-stripes a…“ “And then the ~hic~ the mob totally showered me with heart confetti! And oh, I’ll have to bring some of that leftover wine!” “… sss-sight of heart’s d-d-delight.” “Like, what’re you talkin’ about ~hic~ Wyvie?” CheerMynx giggled loudly, only to suddenly perk up and brighten when she discovered the card that the troglyodyte had slipped under her bag. She tore it open with a claw and gushed over sparkly red card inside. “OhmyGod look at this card from ~hic~ Spinky! It says ‘You’re Purr-fect.’ AWWWW, isn’t it sweet Wyvie?” Wyvern faked a smile, and paused for a long moment before finally nodding. He breathed an inward sigh of resignation and drooped his scales in spite of himself, crumpling the poem in his claws and tossing it over his shoulder in defeat. “Yeah… ssssweet.” Wyvern scooped up a clawful of CheerMynx’s liquored chocolates and stuffed them into his mouth, chewing on them sullenly. Cerby’s female head finally managed to latch its teeth onto Wyvern’s tail, gnawing and refusing to let go.

A small veil of roses is lifted from the front of the news cameras, revealing a mounted vase of the same roses bunched together to resemble a heart… or perhaps a giant heart candy, given the way that the words “Be my sweet heart” have been painted over the top of the bouquet in an obnoxious geld-tinted font. The cameras move away from the flowers to get a better view of Rhapsody’s personal Pen lounging quarters, which (while unattended) have been refurbished to further fit the Valentine’s theme of the Report. The comfy lounge chairs and wide open couch have been decked out with more heart-shaped pillows than you can shake a hefty bra at, and a ragged beaver fur rug is laid out in what might have otherwise been a romantic make-out spot. An Almost Dragonic Brand Beaver Den Fireplace™ crackles away in the background, giving the room less of a moody hue than the lighting crew might have been hoping for. The news cameras pan past a heart-shaped dish with doggy treats set up as a cerbihuahua distraction before focusing on Wyvern, who paces back and forth with a nervous look on his face. The light red bath robe that the lizard is wearing flutters as he swings his tail back and forth, briefly revealing a scale-tight waterproof body suit hidden underneath. The bath robe also hides a copious number of bandages covering the lizard’s nether regions; a souvenir from last week’s show that makes the reptilian reporter appear rather well-endowed so long as the bandages are hidden. Wyvern pulls his bath robe down to hide the “In case of bathing emergencies” tag on his hidden bodysuit, then gnashes on the red rose held between his teeth as he stares at the sheet that he’s holding and mumbles a few lines. “Tiger, tiger. Dress… no, no.” Wyvern switches from the deep baritone hiss he was using to a sweeter pansy-ish voice. “Stripes a sight of… nawww, that’sss no good.” Wyvern sighs and continues to test voices and intonations as the cameras zoom in on the sheet that he’s holding, which appears to be addressed “Valentine for CheerMynx.” The writing on the paper reads: Tiger tiger, dressing light Stripes a sight of heart’s delight. What amount of geld or guys has fame bestowed upon thee? And yet you stay, always here. Almost Intern, always near Almost all that I hold dear Valentine: be mine this year. “Hey! What’re you lookin at?” Wyvern turns and lifts a claw at the news cameras, only to suddenly realize that they’re officially recording. “Y-you mean we’re already on?! B-b-but I ssstill need to practice, I’ll never read it right!” A troglyodyte wearing a toga similar to that of cupid briefly steps into the scene and mutters something to Wyvern, pointing at a cue card before exiting stage right. The overgrown lizard stares at the cameras with a phony grin and forces a nervous laugh before continuing. “I uh, what I meant to sssay was, welcome to the Almost Report!” Wyvern continues practicing lines of his poem under his breath between camera takes. “Ssso, how about those February Pen promotionsss eh?! Congratsss to Gravia, Sora Hikari, and Hjolnai for the ‘fame bessstowed upon thee.’ Who knows, maybe there’sss even a match to be made in that line-up? Valentine’sss is ‘always near,’ after all.” Wyvern winks to the cameras and leans back against one of the larger heart pillows, his tail stinger getting lost in a crevice between fabrics. He hisses in as smooth a voice as his reptilian lungs can muster, with a bit of unease still written in his beady eyes. “That’sss right, the Almost Report is here with ‘all that’ you ‘hold dear.’” Wyvern takes a moment to make sure that the neckline of his bath robe is visibly open, though not open enough to reveal his bodysuit. “Thinkin’ of romantic activitiesss for you and your loved one night stand to attend? Why not try the Meet the Almost Reporter Conservatory Ball for a bit ‘of heart’s delight’? Or maybe the latessst in lycanthrope gaming, Werewolf LXII, will fufill ‘Almost all’ your mutual howling needs.” Wyvern flicks his forked tongue in and out in a devilish manner, then shifts his position to the beaver fur rug, laying down on his side in reptilian playboy fashion and facing the cameras. He cringes a little at the prickly feel of the fur against his bath robe, his tail drifting dangerously close to the Almost Dragonic Brand Beaver Den Fireplace™. “Of courssse, you can alssso sweeten your Valentine with a little gift, depending on ‘What amount of geld’ you wanna ssspend.” Wyvern raises a claw and brushes it through the scales on his head to flex his vanity, only to twist his snout and pull his tail back from the fireplace with a jerk. “Venefyxatu’s De(Motivational) Poster booth in the Cabaret isss the perfect opportunity to make that crush of yoursss the poster of their dreams. And don’t forget the important of an accompanying love letter to ssseal the deal.” Wyvern lifts himself from the rug and starts to head over to the rose vase for another Valentine pose, only to freeze as a troglyodyte yells off-set: “CheerMynx in five!” Wyvern chokes up for a moment and quickly pulls his poem back out, speedily rehearsing the lines at a lightning fast pace that only a higher being would be able to follow. “four!” Wyvern paces back and forth nervously, continuing to rehearse the lines but jumbling a few of the words and correcting himself in the process. “three!” Wyvern chatters his teeth over his claws, trying to find an appropriate spot to greet his favorite cheerline from. “two!”

Wyvern turns and releases Degorram in a final dance spin, raising a claw to her apologetically as his feet carry him in the direction of the exit. The overgrown lizard's course of escape is altered, however, when one of the wiser law enforcement agents yells something about a CheerMynx dress malfunction to distract him. A few turns and scrambling slides later, Wyvern finds himself surrounded by shackle-bearing officials behind a deviled angel food cake table. He raises his claws defensively as the law begins closing in, pressing his wings up against the wall and stammering. "L-l-lisssten guys, it really ain't what ya think! If you r-read the fine print, you'll see it sssays-" "We don't wanna hear it." A brawny officer steps up to Wyvern, lifting his set of cuffs with a menacing stare. "You're under arre-" "Stop right there!" The law enforcement officials all turn simultaneously, only to drop their cuffs and salute as a venerable white-haired man in an odd outfit that could only be that of a commanding officer stands before them. The law officials all yell simultaneously: "SIR!" "The arrest of Wyvern is hereby postponed." The venerable man strokes his white beard with an air of dignity and respect, as well as a hint of uncertainty that catches Wyvern's eye. "Please drink up at this party until further instructed, or until you pass out and don't remember anything." The surrounding law officers scratch their heads in confusion as they glance to one another, and begin muttering amongst themselves until the commanding officer stamps his foot on the ground. "That's an order!" The law enforcement officers abandon their posts with a scattered batch of "yessir"s, migrating over to the bar to fetch themselves some drinks as instructed. Wyvern scratches his horns, then slowly slinks out from his hidden corner and heads back over to the dancefloor. Wandering over to the venerable man in the odd outfit, Wyvern glances in both directions and raises a claw to the man's ear as he whispers: "Great work, Dego." Wyvern grins and passes a small pair of carpet scissors to the shapeshifter. "For later. I owe ya a longer dance as well, by the way." Wyvern winks, then heads over to the refreshments table in the hopes of drilling Kikuyu for more information regarding certain Valentines plans. In the background, the troglyodisco band picks up its rhythm again after halting for the law's invasion.

"R-really though CheerMynx, Patrick n' Harmony had nothing to do with thissss..." Wyvern struck a nervous grin, only to go bug-eyed as the cheerline mounted herself onto the bed, spreading her legs as far as her chaste skirt allowed in order to kneel over Wyvern and un-bond his wrist-laces from her bed post. The act of kindness left the overgrown lizard somewhat in awe of the way that the cheerline's layered blouse failed to hide her shapely form. He rasped in excitement and stammered for a moment, his wings twitching giddily in spite of themselves. "N-n-n-n-not th-that I h-h-had other p-p-p-plans with it or anyhing, uhhhh..." "Oh?" CheerMynx glanced down at Wyvern with an expression befitting of her chaste outfit, rolling her tongue around the edges of the tootsie pop in an all too innocent manner. "Not even, like, any family friendly ones?" "Uhhhhm..." Wyvern's forked tongue rolled out in spite of himself, only to quickly get sucked back into his mouth. "W-w-well, d-did you have anything in mind?" "Ohmigawd SURE!" CheerMynx undid the remainder of Wyvern's wrist bonds in a flash, her tone completely changing. She quickly tapped Wyvern on the horn. "TAG, you're it!" CheerMynx giggled and bounced off of the bed, leaving Wyvern helpless to chase after her given his laced ankles. The overgrown lizard raised a claw to protest, only to watch the cheerline crunch down on the remainder of her tootsie pop just as the cerbihuahua decided to connect its teeth to Wyv's nether regions... The screams that followed were hardly family friendly.

Wyvern’s eyes trail off after the ends of CheerMynx’s ballgown before turning back to the sight of the departing Degorram with a start. The overgrown lizard quickly bounces out of his seat and rushes over to the well-dressed shapeshifter, hopping in front of her and spreading his wings to prevent her from passing. He clears his throat and brushes a claw over his tie in an open display of nearly dragonic machismo, letting out a haughty laugh as he re-accepts Dego’s plushy and signs it six times over. He adds a final doodle of a Wyvern stick figure to the plushy before passing it back to her with a wide grin. “Glad you could make it, Dego! We really need to catch up.” Wyvern pauses as the troglyodyte band begins pounding on their instruments in the background, the combination of rubber-bandjo, bone keyboard, granite rock guitar, and can-non-drums producing a sound most likely to be dubbed by critics as “sewer-indie-troglyodisco.” He cringes at the sound for a moment, then cocks a claw back at the dance floor. “Sssay, I don’t suppose you might wanna cut a rug with me?” Degorram smiles and beams at Wyvern before the overgrown lizard continues. “See, there’ssss this lavender Conservatory rug back there, reeeaaalll pricey y’know? Wyvern rubs his claws together with a little cackle. “And I figure we can split the profits 70/30, I mean after you help me cut it into pieces and all…” Wyvern pauses as he notices the disappointed expression on Degorram’s face, and turns his tail stinger in the ground as he considers an alternative for plan B. “Orrrr we could jusssst dance…?”

The news cameras fade in to the image of CheerMynx’s bedroom HQ, which looks somewhat neater and tidier than usual. Moreover, the quarters seem devoid of any suggestive items or stray articles of clothing, with lots of white sheets creating a clean and rather bland look that’s oriented towards all age groups. A gentler and more soothing version of the Almost Report news medley cues up as the cameras slowly pan over the room until they reach CheerMynx’s bed, focusing on the tan legs of Wyvern’s well-ironed trousers. The clean-cut fit and lack of free-roaming tail suggest that the overgrown lizard had put some care into concealing as many scales as possible in his attire… though his lack of shirt and unlaced shoes seem to suggest otherwise. Wyvern scrambles through a stack of shirts at his right with one claw while trying to knot his shoes with the other, unaware of the camera's presence until a troglyodyte clears his throat in the background. “Oh, uhhhh…” Wyvern stares at the stack of informal shirts at his side, then back at the cameras. “W-welcome to a wholesome family fun edition of the Almossst Report. Asss *ahem* As I hope you can see, I’ve prepared an FCC-friendly set-up sssuitable for all ages, to broaden the Report’s appeal to a wider generation of viewers. Eheheh, yep.” Wyvern strikes a sheepish grin and quickly snags up a white sheet from the ground to tie around his neck and cover his chest with, leaving a square of bright pink in the otherwise bland room. The overgrown lizard reaches down to tie his work shoes, fumbling with the laces in his claws. “Anyway, sssince we’re already a little behind schedule, I’ll go ahead and start thingsss off by wishing Knight and Sorciere a happy belated birthday.” Wyvern grunts as he somehow manages to get his ankles tied together in shoe lace, and sets about attempting to unknot the mess. “Almost Dragonic Brand Friendly Fire Arms™ are being sent to your respective quarters as gifts, jussst don’t use them around Tanuchan. Almost Dragonic Brand Friendly Fire Arms™ - the combustible weapon your whole family can enjoy! 99 geld, cheap.” Wyvern flashes a claws-up at the cameras, only to pause as a troglyodyte’s face flashes on a portable crystal ball to his left. “Hey Wyv, are you available? We haven’t gotten in touch with CheerMynx to see if she’ll continue that exotic dance you wanted her t-“ Wyvern grabs the crystal ball and turns it face down so that the sound and visual are muffled, letting out a high-pitched nervous laugh and turning to the cameras as he continues fiddling with his shoe lace mess. “N-n-no exotic dancesss on this show, no sir. It’s allll family entertainment, heheheh.” Wyvern twists his snout and barely manages to hold back an inappropriate string of curses as he finds lace tied around his wrists from the many attempts at untying his ankles. “Though in terms of dancing, you might wanna check out the Conservatory Ball sssponsored by this very Report. Those under 21 should be accompanied by parental guardians due to the serving of alcoholic beverages, of courssse. But don’t worry, there’sss plenty of music discussion in the Cabaret Room for those unable to attend the party. Sssee? The entertainment we offer is appropriate for everyone.” Wyvern grins and nods vigorously, either trying to indicate that he really means it or simply making up for his inability to use claw gestures with his wrists tied. The overgrown lizard pauses as a troglyodyte in a mailman uniform steps onto the set. The troglyodyte drops off a magazine next to Wyvern before scurrying off to the other end of CheerMynx’s quarters, searching for her mailbox under the various white sheets. Wyvern’s grin remains frozen in place as he realizes the magazine in question is the latest issue of Naughty Nymph Leaf Blower Edition, which seems to be flashing quite a few explicit acts on the cover. The overgrown lizard fumbles with his tied claws for a moment before shoving the magazine out of the range of the cameras with his tail. “Eheheheh. No raunchy reading material on this Report, just Almost Dragonic Brand Economic Forecast Doodle Guides™ to *aherm* leaf through, lemme assure you.” The white sheet around Wyvern’s neck loosens and falls off, much to the reptilian reporter’s dismay. He scrambles for it but finds himself less mobile than before given his tied wrists and ankles, and flops on CheerMynx’s bed bare-chested like a fish out of (into?) water. He fidgets and uses his wings to shove himself over to the bedpost, flashing the cameras some extra-nervous grins in intervals “Almost Dragonic Brand Economic Forecast Doodle Guides™ - perfect for catching up on February Pen promotion bribes or just teaching kidsss the numerous merits of geld.” Wyvern faces the cameras and forces a toothy smile as he attempts to untangle his wrists on the bedpost behind him… only to get his wrists tangled to the bedpost in the process. The overgrown lizard fidgets and tries to budge his arms to the left and the right, with no luck. He hisses a sigh and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t sssuppose I could get a lil’ help here?” Wyvern lets out a huff of family fun resignation as he catches an image of his current predicament in one of the nearby camera monitors. “Happy belated birthday, Signe.”

The three prospective boyfriends remain frozen in place for a moment as Triska's scant apparel catches them off-guard, the script only calling for her to "get dressed." After a long moment of silent gaping, The Jock is the first to scramble back to his feet. He jerks upright, almost falling over on his unstable stilts, "Errr, I gotta go and uhhhh." The Jock shifts a script behind his remaining chest plate. "Gotta go and catch some boar skulls down at the ol' mud track. I'll see you Triska." The Jock races out of the locker room as fast as his stilts can carry him. As soon as he's disappeared from view, Evil Orcy pulls himself up from the mess, raising his cape to his face in order to read his script without too many people noticing. "Nyaaa. It was all Duhgrim's fault." Orcy sticks his nose up and turns to exit with a twist of his villain mustache. "Nyaa (weneedbetterwriters)." Dawgrim ignores the exits of his two rivals and remains stationed on the floor, deciding that the view of Triska's skirt is probably better from where he's currently positioned. It takes a few minutes before the almost dragonic actor behind Dawgrim realizes that the crowd of goblin-ish locker room gals are waiting for some kind of response from him. “Oh, me?” Dawgrim pulls out his bird beak comb and brushes it through his sleek wig, which is laying on the floor next to him. “Well, I was just here to see if Triska wanted to make out or-“ “EEEEEEEK!” The troglyodytes playing Triska B’shell’s locker room colleagues take their cue and charge out of the room in a wholly artificial panic, stampeding over Dawgrim in a not-so-artificial manner. The only one who doesn’t race out of the room is Triska herself, who grins smugly at Dawgrim’s prone form and slowly paces by him. She playfully trails the tip of her tail along Dawgrim’s cheek as she passes by, and lets out another of her sultry laughs before prancing out of the locker room area… "CUT! Annnnd print it!" --- Next time, on Dawgrim’s Reek *cue the image of a crowded classroom, where a stout professor is teaching a goblin sex ed class with a shin bone as a blackboard pointer* The heat is raised when Triska flirts with Dawgrim in class *cue the image of a note being dropped at Dawgrim’s seat. Dawgrim picks it up and unfolds it to reveal the next page of his script* But when Dawgrim and Triska are sent to detention, will things get too hot for teacher? *cue image of an unhappy looking Dawgrim, chained down in a goblin detention hall next to hot pokers used for torturing delinquents* Dawgrim’s Reek, episode 3: “Biology B(‘Shell)”

Hey, I really like the structure of this poem Patrick! The choice of words in expressing the various types of wishes were very good for the most part, and the way that all forms of wishing were painted in a negative light definitely made for an interesting read. I think the first stanza of the poem might be my favorite, just because the first two lines expressing that stanza seem ever so slightly more challenging than the others. Between this and your "Take the Knife" poem, you seem to be touching upon some very heavy emotions... hope all's well over on your end of the world.

I went and saw "Revolutionary Road" the other night with a relative of mine, and we both walked out of it thoroughly unimpressed. I had moderately high expectations for the film after its promising trailer and the various rave reviews its gotten, but must say that I found it rather dull and disappointing. Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet deliver good performances on their parts, putting their respective roles in "Titanic" to shame, but the trouble with this film to me is its lack of ambition. Yes, the themes of being trapped in the suburban dream are there, but director Sam Mendes delivers something so linear and predictable that its pretty hard to get excited over it. It just feels like one of those safe movies for intelligent adults, that only challenges and provokes thought in the most blatant and uninteresting of ways. It's also one of those movies that could have ended in about 5 different places, but kept dragging on to the point where it was just rubbing the message in the audience's face. So nope, all in all, not impressed with this one.

Last time, on Dawgrim’s Reek *Cue the image of Wyvern, dressed in a green goblin school vest with disheveled black hair, fainting and collapsing into a heap next to a bookshelf* Dawgrim and his trusty Almost Dragonic Brand Goblin Dynamite Rucksack™ tell Gurt to go study so they can attend an EXTRA-private meeting *Cue the image of Wyvern, dressed in a green goblin school vest with disheveled black hair, fainting and collapsing into a heap again* The heat is on when Dawgrim tries asking Triska B’Shell to Home Hogswill *Cue the image of Wyvern, dressed in a green goblin school vest with disheveled black hair, fainting yet again* But are Triska’s multiple suitors more than Dawgrim bargained for? *Cue clip of Wyvern screaming “Just GO Dammit!” to Gurt so that he’ll remember his script.* And now, Dawgrim’s Reek --- The cameras fade in to the image of an empty makeshift locker room, which seems to be set up in part of Black’s old castle basement quarters. The rows of prop lockers in the room are made out of rectangular cardboard boxes painted gray, which put many real goblin academy lockers to shame. The aged coffins of Black’s quarters rest between the rows of lockers like benches, and a familiar-looking Almost Dragonic Brand Really Big Lightbulb™ gives everything that “lit locker room in a C-grade goblin TV drama” feel. A chart tacked to the end of the west wall of the room lists goblin athletics such as “bug catching” and “champion belching,” and a skull next to it seems to be a dispenser of some sort. Before the label of the dispenser can be seen, a cheesy kazoo theme cues up and the title of the show once again fills the screen in its obnoxious font: Dawgrim’s Reek sponsored by Almost Dragonic Brand Really Big Lightbulbs™ The cameras turn and begin panning past the rather sparse fronts of the cardboard lockers before turning to focus on Wyvern, who has gone all out goblin teen idol for the show as far as looks go. The overgrown lizard brushes his beak bone comb through his backwards black toupee with enthusiasm, letting the goblin-attracting sewer scent waft from his horns. Aside from a black leather rock star jacket that covers his wings, the reptilian actor is bare-chested, with the generous display of scales ending at his low-hanging dark blue slacks. Wyvern snaps a claw nonchalantly as he searches for a particular locker, passing by a pin-up of Wrenwind that’s been tacked to one of them as décor. “Well. Well. If it isn’t. Dawgrim. Or should I say… Duhgrim (whowritesthisstuff?). What are you doing here?” The poor pacing and enunciation of the dialogue is only topped by the new troglyodyte actor’s wardrobe, which consists of a curly villain mustache and a dark cape attached to a more traditional goblin academy hide school uniform. The troglyodyte steps into the locker room area and comes to an awkward halt, clearing his throat. “Nyaa. Nya. I hear you want to ask Triska B’shell out, Dawgrim. But I already have. Nyaaa. Tosses back cape. Oh wait, I’m not supposed to read that.” “Evil Orcy, I should’ve known.” Wyvern growls and flexes his unimpressive array of almost dragonic muscles. “Well I’ve already asked her out too. And you should know by now that, aside from Kaurly, she’s the only one for me.” “What are you two grunting about?” Dawgrim and Evil Orcy turn to face another troglyodyte actor, this one on stilts with a ridiculous bodysuit meant to imitate a goblin jock. The jock tosses a bone baton up and down and flexes his montage chest muscles, one of which falls off of his suit in the process. “I asked Triska to Home Hogswill as well!” “Oh yeah?” “Why you-“ “I asked her first.” “Yeah right. I did.” The three potential Triska daters circle each other with exceedingly fake hatred written on their faces, with Dawgrim’s angered hisses seeming slightly more realistic than the others for some reason. The three adversaries draw their respective weapons, Dawgrim pulling his bird beak comb, Orcy pulling a sharpened quill, and The Jock treating the bone baton as a club. The rivals stare at each other for a moment, their faces suddenly going blank when they realize that there aren’t any stunt devils under the program’s limited budget. They stand still for a long and awkward pause before tossing their respective weapons to the side, moving in and enacting something similar to Goblin Professional Wrestling, only about three times as phony. As the battle for Triska’s courtship rages on, the cameras pan out to reveal the “Grls Loker Room” sign of the quarters, which rests next to the room’s skull tampon dispenser…

Good poem, Regel. I read it as a natural continuation of your previous "Depression" poem, and hope that the situation has improved for you since it was written. I like the imagery of water that you use for the poem, with the rapid rise to knee level conveying the difficulty of the situation very well. Anyway, thanks for sharing this poem here. You'll be in my thoughts.

"Aren't you gonna take one o' thessse free-ish Almost Report posters?! They're only a geld." Wyvern watches Snypiuer wander off without paying his offer any mind, then breaks into an evil sneer and begins moving in a flash. The overgrown lizard raps the front of his cardboard box three times, then claps. Three troglyodytes wearing auto shop overalls rush over to the signature booth, and before you can say "Snypiuer's ride is history" one of them has the keys in hand. Wyvern grins and points at the sheet that Snypiuer filled out, flashing a large number of lightning fast claw signals... semi-crescent motion for "de-assemble," curled claw for "market," hands cupped for "profit." The troglyodytes nod in sync, then dash off in three different directions, leaving Wyvern snickering in their wake. "Ahhh, I love thessse calm little parties." Wyvern cringes as a loud farting trombone rings from the music stage. "Would sssomebody mind bringin' me a Bruteweiser and Non-H2O Tonic? Preferably before the flocks of fans begin to swarm?"

Wyvern gawked onward in a trance, his eyes greedily feeding off of CheerMynx's movements while his mind was caught somewhere between working out the voucher motive for the dance and trying to figure out how one could perform "Dance of the Seven Veils" whilst wearing only two strategically placed scarves. The overgrown lizard's excitement grew as he realized he would soon find out, his jaw dropping and his eyes widening a little more with each rhythmic bell jingle. Wyvern clutched the ceribhuahua tighter in spite of himself as his head swooned through a figure 8 to follow the motion of CheerMynx's hips, his open shirt collar failing to prevent a build up of sweat across his scales. The tarot card covering the hole in the lizard's pants was quickly replaced by a spiked champagne bottle, which was replaced by a crystal ball, which was replaced by a fortune teller mat... So entranced was the reptilian Elder that he didn't even notice the ceribhuahua gnawing away at his claws, his ecstasy transcending mere feelings of pain. That is, at least until the ceribhuahua's central head decided to bring him back down to earth by going for his more sensitive regions again. "AARRRRRGGGGGHHH!" The hypnotic melody and mood were cut short as Wyvern flailed forward, breaking the slowing of time with his speedy stride. The two available heads of the ceribhuahua growled while the central head dangled from whatever was behind the mat in front of Wyvern's pants, holding fast. "AAAIIIIIIEEEEE!!!" Wyvern raced back and forth in a frenzy, torn between dashing to the medic or bearing it out and letting CheerMynx continue her performance. With a wail of frustration and an even louder wail of pain, the lizard chose the direction of the infirmary... but not before dashing a circle around CheerMynx while applauding. Wyvern's cry echoed out as he ran towards the exit hall, his voice wrought with frustration: "We'll continue thisss laaaaaatttttttttttAAAAARRRRRRRR!"

"Greetingssss, Sora!" Wyvern waves from his spot at the cardboard box, tilting his snout as the magazine that Sora's carrying catches the corner of his eye. "Once yer done filling up on deviled artichoke heart-burners, come on over and I'll let you know all about the meritsss of Almost Dragonic Brand Writer's Block Blockers™. Made with real blocks of crumpled scrapped story sheetsss!" Wyvern winks and strikes an enthusiastic claws up with one of his signature salesman sneers, then sets about practicing his signature several times over while waiting for takers. In the background, on the music stage, the distinctive twang of a rubber band bass guitar can be heard as the troglyodyte behind it adjusts its final stretches in tuning length...