Medievia Mudslinger

November 19, 2000

Zekmagsak - A Birthday Tale - By Mhordamis

The stalactites were decorated in multicolored streamers, long bands of paper of red and blue and pink and purple, that were tied around the stalagmites below, spiraling down the thick lime formation, and circling twice around their bases. An oaken table, looted from Goland's centuries ago, was placed in the center of the large, spacious cavern, bearing paper plates and party hats on its smooth, polished surface. Also on the table, in the center of its rectangular top, was a gigantic birthday cake, a vanilla square with chocolate icing and rainbow sprinkles.

Zeksagmak frowned thoughtfully at the scene; it was his birthday, and right now the people at the party should be playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey, but the flaw in that was the fact that nobody had come for the ruby dragon's birthday. To think, the nerve of these humans....

But it wasn't only the humans. None of his brethren had come. None of his brethren had even sent a servant to wish Zeksagmak a happy birthday! Not Zeklia, nor Sakbokvon -- Or Gothpakgok, Zeksagmak's first cousin!

Wiping a tear from his giant eye, Zeksagmak began to dismantle the room the party was supposed to take place in; after waiting more than twenty-four hours without a soul showing up, he came to the conclusion that nobody was coming. Nobody cared.

"Let's just see if I show up for YOUR birthday," he said sarcasticly, vengefully, to nobody in particular but everyone at once, stepping over the skeletal remains of mortals who had failed to slay the dragon. Ripping a streamer from a stalactite, Zeksagmak turned and gently -- ever SO gently -- blew out the only burning candle on his birthday cake. The smoke from the wick slowly drifted up through the exitway in the roof, leaving a scented rose fragrance behind.

"Do you mean my birthday?" asked a voice.

Zeksagmak whipped his serpentine neck around and toward the entryway of the cavern, and peered intently on the figure who spoke. It was just a lavalanche.

"I mean everyone's birthday!" Zeksagmak growled furiously, smoke trailing out his huge nostrils.

"So my birthday as well then, hmph?" persisted the lavalanche.

"Well, maybe not yours, I guess," surrendered Zeksagmak.

"Happy birthday, you big ruby lug."

Zeksagmak sniffed disdainfully. "Oh, it's my birthday?" he said in a very innocent tone. "Why didn't you remind me? If I'd of known, I would have sent out invitations."

The lavalanche -- in the way a lavalanche snorts -- snorted. "What's all this decoration in the cavern for, if you didn't know it was your birthday?"

Zeksagmak turned his head backwards and inhaled deeply; when he exhaled, fireballs and gales of swirling flame consumed the room and everything inside it. He shifted his weight to look confidently at the lavalanche, an ear-to-ear smile on his face exposing his shiny white teeth. "What do you speak of, this 'decoration?'"

The lavalanche -- in the way a lavalanche sighs -- sighed. "Look, Zek, baby, I got you a present. It's nothing much, but me and the boys all chipped in." He turned and shouted, "Bring it in, boys."

A small formation of undead crusaders entered the cavern, pushing a six-wheeled wagon that bore something... strange and mechanical... on its top.

"What the heck is that?" Zeksagmask asked rudely.

"Well, Master," said a crusader, "we call it an... EXOTIC DRAGON-DANCER!"

Suddenly, the top of the mechanical device flipped open, and from the opening, a red-scaled dragon with a body that had enough smooth curves to make Ikuska jealous flew out, her wings folded over her chest. Her eyes were like huge emeralds, sparkling with a sapphire light of their own. Her legs were long and sinuous, very flexible and dexterious by the looks of them, and her talons were shiny, the cleanest Zeksagmak had ever seen on a dragon! Her stomach was flat and curved down to meet the short, seductively twitching tail.

"YOWZER!" Zeksagmak screamed.

"Hello, Sexysagmak," purred the exotic dragon-dancer. "I'm Aniagok."

"Hul-hul-hul-hullo," Zeksagmak sputtered. "I'm Zeksag-sagmak."

Aniagok giggled. "I know," she cooed. Slowly, her wings unfolded, revealing a set of milky white scales that overlapped each other down to the tops of her legs.

"You sure got a -- a pretty -- you're pretty," Zeksagmak stated matter of factly, but in trembling tones.

"You're cute," Aniagok giggled softly. "And very fit, for a dragon your age."

Zeksagmak sucked his gut in and stuck his chest out. "I know," he said with ten gallons of testosterone. "Knock-knock, Aniagok," he cooed, as he began curling up and around the dragon-dancer.

"Who's there?" she asked.

"Er, no," Zeksagmak said; he was blushing, and very thankful he had a ruby colored hide. "I mean I was going 'knock-knock,' because I was coming towards you, you see."

"So there's no knock-knock joke?"

"Afraid not."

She pouted. "That's very disappointing!"

"Well, I don't know any," Zeksagmak admitted.

"That's even more disappointing!" she said helplessly.

"I have a road joke!" the ruby proclaimed loudly. "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

Her face brightened. "Why?" she asked enthusiastically.


Her face darkened. "That's not very funny," she pointed out.

He uncurled his body from around her, and let his massive head hit the ground hard. "I'm sorry," he said sadly, regretting that he let his head hit the ground so hard. "It's just been a very poor birthday."

"What's wrong?" she asked concernedly, wrapping her wing around his back. He sighed; the force of it sent dust flying up off the ground. "Nobody showed up. The boys in the lair somehow managed to get you to come and do your thing, but still... none of my brethren, none of the humans. Not even the Gods came over to congratulate me on becoming so mighty and old. You would think maybe Vryce would at least send me an eCard... but he didn't. No one did."

She stroked his back softly. "Well, your 'boys' didn't forget your birthday, and neither did I. The other dragons are afraid of your power, that's why they didn't show up. And every time a human steps into the lair, you devour him. You've gained a fairly harsh reputation aboveground, you know."

"I know, I know," he admitted with a sigh. "It's my own fault, I guess. But still... not a singing telegram, or a card, or... nothing." A tear streamed down his cheek. "Phooey!" he spat.

"Say," Aniagok said suddenly, "what do you think about endings?"

"I think they're overrated and a story should be able to end wherever it wants to end at."

"Really? I disagree with you. I feel endings should have some sort of--"