by Jason Offutt
Brother Jacobus: Unclean beast! Get thee down! Be thou consumed by the fires that made thee!
--Dragonslayer (1981)
Chapter 10: Dragons
Dragons, much like vampires, werewolves, and Bigfoot, have their roots in all the globe’s ancient cultures. Although modern man has discounted dragon stories as myth, this historic puzzle remains—how did disconnected societies across the world describe, record, draw, etch, sew, and carve these creatures in such uniformity if they didn’t actually see them? The answer’s simple. They did see them. People in these ancient cultures saw dragons, fought them, and were often eaten by them. Some scientists speculate ancient man found dinosaur bones and jumped to some serious conclusions, which is much like saying tribesmen in New Guinea found Bill Gates and understood how to use Windows 8 without feeling like going on a shooting spree. It doesn’t work (neither does Windows 8).
Dragons are mentioned often in the Christian Bible, in many instances referencing Christianity’s Voldemort—Satan. “And there appeared another wonder in heaven; and behold a great red dragon, having seven heads and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his heads,” Revelation 12:3. Why a dragon? “Dragon” sounds a heck of a lot more intimidating than “and Satan (he likes it if you call him Stan) walked into the kitchen wearing a terrycloth robe to fix a ham and cheese sandwich,” Black Sabbath 6:66.
The ancient Greeks had the multi-headed Hydra. Third-century Europe had Saint George who was the first guy to kill a dragon and save the princess (sorry, Mario). Vikings had the money-hungry dragon Fafnir. Ancient India had the dragon Vritra that hoarded water, light, and cows. North American Indians worshiped the dragon Piasa. Central American Indians worshiped flying serpents. Australian aborigines considered their dragons to be demons. And Asian cultures saw their long, serpentine dragons as peaceful beings that lived in water and controlled rainfall. Despite the widespread legends of these beasts, dragons from all cultures have three things in common:
1) They’re reptiles.
2) They’re somewhat intelligent.
3) They’re really, really hungry.
Gee, kinda sounds like network executive.
To prepare yourself for an encounter with a dragon (or a network executive, for that matter), always concentrate on the second thing you’ll do when a dragon walks into your living room, which is try to kill it. The first thing you’ll do is shit yourself. Always carry an extra pair of underwear.
Slade the Destroyer: I shall burn your house with my breath, rend your flesh with my claws, grind your bones with my teeth, and take from you what I please.
You: Oops. Uh, yeah. Just watch where you step. Could you hold off on the bone grinding? I’ve got to grab some carpet cleaner.
Problem One: Although dragons are solitary, elusive creatures unaffected by the whims of the average American’s lifestyle, their goals conflict with ours. Dragons save money like Okies hoarded cans of beans during the Great Depression, and like Depression-era Okies, dragons eat princesses. Princesses actually exist. Let’s look at a few: Crown Princess of Denmark Mary Elizabeth, Princess Madeleine of Sweden, Princess Letizia of Spain, and Princess Zara Philips of England—they’re all hot. Do you see a theme here? Do you want a dragon to eat what basically adds up to the 1992 cast of Baywatch? Do I need to go on? Okay, Princess Leia Organa in a gold bikini. Now do you understand why all dragons have to go?
How to Identify a Dragon
Depending on what culture you study, a dragon is an evil, treasure-hording beast, a simple monster, a deity, a devil, or the thing that poops rainbows. Regardless of what they are, I really don’t want these things flying over my head.
Problem Two: If you think a flock of birds that ransacked a mulberry bush can ruin the paint job on your Toyota, just wait and see what dragon bowels full of princess can do.
Given the common belief of dragons from disassociated cultures, these beasts’ physical makeups are surprisingly similar. Dragons are all scaled, winged reptiles with great diction—much like ACLU attorneys. According to the foremost tome on the subject of dragons, the Advanced Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual by Gary Gygax, a dragon is something you do not want to fuck with.
Problem Three: It not only has the biting power of a Rancor, it can spit fire, acid, poison, electricity, or whatever Courtney Love’s drinking; it can fly, most have an IQ greater than the people over at Apple, and all have thicker skin than a bad actor. They live in every climate, eat everything, and can beat you at chess. They haven’t taken their place as the ruling species on the planet for one simple reason—they’re waiting for a Seinfeld reunion special. Seriously, they love Seinfeld and The Finale—despite the persuasive courtroom arguments of Jackie Chiles—really didn’t give them closure. So, NBC, please hold off for a while. It’s for the good of the human race.
But for our purposes, a dragon is best described as a future wall trophy.
Dragon Powers
Dragons are some of the most powerful monsters human beings need to kill. They’re not only smart, they have the body of a dinosaur, and the resourcefulness of Dwight Schrute. The problem with preparing for a dragon battle is that you never know what type of dragon is going to show up at your place. A green dragon, a red dragon, or a Jack Russell Wyvern. And you don’t want to deal with one of those—they’ll chew up your couch. Overall dragon powers are strong armor, the ability to fly, the strength of Cthulhu, and the biting power of a great white shark the size of the Louisiana Superdome.
Dragon Weaknesses
Three things: 1) greed. These things are more money hungry than Milburn Drysdale panting after Jed Clampett’s oil, 2) one scale out of place. Seriously, that’s it. One tiny scale in a dragon’s armor will bring it down. Unfortunately, dragons primp more than a male figure skater, so there usually isn’t one scale out of place. A dragon killer has to hope for the elusive 3) an open mouth that’s not spitting fire in your direction. Yeah, you can try and shove a lance down a dragon’s gullet, and although you really don’t want to get that close, this is sometimes the only option to killing the beast. Your best bet with a close-range attack is to get the dragon into a conversation—a discussion about gold, what type of wine goes well with princess, or Seinfeld, for example. Then, when the dragon’s really yapping, toss a bug zapper in his mouth.
How to Avoid Dragons
Although dragons are located on every continent in every climate and every geographic location, they’re kind of homebodies and don’t like to be bothered. So if you’re a Girl Scout knocking on the entrance to a dragon’s cave, you’d better be carrying Thin Mints or they’ll take off your head. Another way to avoid dragons is to visit Cleveland on your vacation instead of Southeast Asia, Pern, medieval Europe, Melniboné, Indonesia, Fantasia, Middle Earth, a Dreamworks cartoon, or one of the many plains of Hell.
Who’s Going to Help You
The United States Army, God bless them (Bad Ass Factor 10 out of 10).
Your Arsenal and Where to Keep It
The average American citizen never actively searches for a dragon to slay—we’re all too busy filling out our NCAA bracket, sitting in the drive-through lane at McDonald’s, and checking Facebook to bother getting our clothes dirty hunting dragons. No worries, the dragon will find us. This just means we won’t have to carry a polearm everywhere we go, which tends to be a problem when boarding public transportation. All we need to worry about, in regards to dragons, is to properly arm the one place we feel safe—our home.
Things You Should Have Everywhere
Superior firepower: Yeah, yeah, yeah, what’s superior to breath like a flamethrower? A Barrett M82A1, that’s what. A dragon’s fire breath has the range of about 165 feet and, although it can cook a man like a campfire marshmallow, 165 feet of straight-line destruction is nothing when it comes to rounding corners, cutting through doors, walls, and The Shield of Virtue. I’d but a Barrett M82A1 up against a fire breather any day. Problem Four: Fire breath will destroy your home. Yes. Yes, it will. But you
can deal with that later—just live, baby, and by that I mean rain death upon the lizard that torched your house. A Barrett M82A1 has the range of more than a mile, ignores minor inconveniences like doors, drywall, lizard scales, and anyone who inadvertently steps in your way, and can explode a dragon’s skull like a can of Pepsi in an industrial paint shaker. If there’s a dragon crawling around my property, I like my chances.
Home Alone: Although hitting a dragon in the head with a paint can on a rope will only slightly annoy it, hitting it in the head with a can filled with Nitromethane and an ANNM detonator will solve your pesky dragon-infestation problem.
Medieval weapons: The only people in the world who own medieval arms—outside of medieval arms dealers who fell out of favor by the 1400s—are nerds (Bad Ass Factor Urkel). Swords, poleaxes, war hammers, poniards, falchions, morning stars, glaives—these weapons are either collecting dust in European museums or are resting on the wall of some American basement bedroom. The good news: all of these weapons are, in the right hands, historically proven to kill dragons. The bad news: in every nerd’s right hand are the X, Y, A, B controller buttons as they’re playing World of Warcraft. The problem with nerds possessing dragon-killing weapons is the fact that, when called upon, nerds will panic (Bad Ass Factor Beaver Cleaver). I will not (Bad Ass Factor The Punisher). Fortunately, I know enough nerds that when I kick my way through the door of their home in search of weapons, they’ll recognize me and give me some of their Doritos.
The Land of Cold, and Ice: Since dragons are lizards, one of your best defenses against the common dragon is cold. Cold makes a dragon lethargic and slow-witted, kind of like a college student on a Thursday morning. Sure, this is great news if you live in Canada (although chances are you’ll be eaten by a Bigfoot instead), but how does this help if you live in Florida? Simple: air conditioning. By keeping your living space at the lowest temperature, you’ll guarantee any battle in your home will be done in slow motion, and everything’s sweeter in slow motion. To achieve the maximum in climate control discomfort, equip your living room with an artificial snow maker (ski resort quality about $1,900 minimum), and you’ll have enough time to put on music while you shove a machete into the reptile’s brain. I suggest Wagner’s “Ring des Nibelungen.” Slaying dragons always goes better with a theme song.
All I know about dragon slaying, I learned from a child’s game: Rock, Paper, Scissors, Dragon, Propane Tank.
• Dragon crushes Scissors
• Scissors nick Propane Tank
• Propane Tank burns Paper
• Paper cuts Dragon
• Dragon eats Rock
• Rock smashes Scissors
• Scissors cut Paper
• Rock explodes Propane Tank
• Propane Tank detonates Dragon
Behavior of the Dragon While You’re Trying to Kill It
Given the fact that dragons are often the size of a city bus, once a dragon realizes something as insignificant as you is trying to kill it, it will probably laugh. However, much like the bullies they are, dragons are cowards at heart. Given a big enough threat, a dragon will first threaten you, second try and buy you off, and when it realizes you mean business, the third thing it will do is beg for its life. Don’t fall for any of it. The moment a dragon senses a hint of weakness, it will set you on fire and eat your girlfriend.
Disposing of the Body
Are you kidding me? Sure, the money you found in the dragon’s lair will keep you in Jaguars, Hawaiian vacations, and Ding Dongs for decades, but selling the body of a dragon will buy you Rhode Island, the Green Bay Packers and, quite possibly, Anna Kournikova. Do you know how much Spam Hormel could get out of a dragon?
Butch: What the fuck is that?
Stray Bullet: I don't know, Chucky on crack? Shoot that motherfucker.
--Leprechaun in the Hood, 2000
Chapter 11: Elves, Trolls, Gnomes, and other Faeries
Stories of faerie folk—elves, trolls, ebu gogo, and gnomes—are worldwide. Elves exchange their offspring for human babies, trolls capture humans for slaves, ebu gogo eat children, gnomes sometimes come out of the walls and steal your breath, and some American Indian traditions hold that if you whistle, one of these faerie-folk will jump in your mouth, crawl down your throat, and give you a stomachache. That’s messed up.
Two of the common traits of faeries across the globe are 1) they’re little enough to kick around like a football, and 2) they like to fuck with people. All I know is that a tiny person messing with the lives of regular-sized people scares the hell out of me. That’s why I never could watch Webster.
Although little people have been part of the daily lives of a great many cultures, the centuries have not treated them kindly. Movies like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), Elf (2003), and Lucky Charms commercials portray these little people as complete morons. They’re not. They’re intelligent, they’re malevolent—like in Leprechaun (1993)—and they want to hurt you. Because we live in a more “enlightened time,” by which I mean stupid, this leads us to Problem One: most humans don’t believe in faeries anymore.
Across the world, these entities are called different names, like brownies, sprites, pixies, leprechauns, goblins, tomtar, kobolds, gnolls, huldufólk, and menehune. Whereas our ancestors saw them for what they are, beasts that eat children, turn humans into slaves, and tell us where we may or may not take a leak in the woods, we see them as Disney characters, which is Problem Two: even if we saw one of these beasties, we wouldn’t see it as a threat. If these bastards were human, we’d put them through the criminal justice system the first time they broke their restraining order and started hanging out within 500 feet of a playground. However, since faeries don’t officially exist, there are relatively few laws on the books about their wholesale slaughter. Except in Germany where they recognize the danger of the Faeries and have set out to stop them. Why? One word—Nazis. And what’s more frightening than Nazis? Faerie Nazis. Yes, faerie Nazis.
The residents of Straubing, Germany, awoke one morning in October 2009 to find that out of the roughly 25 million garden gnomes toiling away in yards and under bushes across their country, 1,250 of these fourteen-inch-tall plastic demons are Nazis. In a park in Straubing that October morning, little golden gnomes, their pointy caps, pointy beards, and pointy grins reminiscent of the Christmas elf on a bender, all stood straight as passersby stared in disbelief; the gnomes’ right arms extended in a Nazi salute. The statues were part of a display by artist Ottmar Hörl and sponsored by the Social Democratic Party. Although it is illegal in Germany to post Nazi symbols in public or to enlist the use of gnomes, trolls, or dwarfs in spreading neo-fascist propaganda, the display was given the nod because it fell under the umbrella of satire (which in Latin means, “I’m really serious, so screw you”). According to the London newspaper, The Guardian, Hans Lohmeier of the Social Democratic Party said, “There are some who say, ‘What do we want with this tripe?’ others who say it’s endangering their kids, but many others have understood what this is all about.” Yeah, Hans, old buddy, we know what it’s all about—the Third and a Half Reich. It starts off simple, with an art display of fourteen-inch-tall Nazis in a Bavarian town, then, boom, tiny Himmlers and Görings are goose-stepping over the countryside turning all sorts of blonde-haired, blue-eyed statuary into the new Hitler youth. World War III will be organized under the dark cover of azalea bushes.
How to Identify a Faerie
Depending on the culture, a faerie is anything from monster to demon to nature spirit and nothing I’d like to have over for beer. The little monsters would talk during the ballgame about Swedish soccer or some shit, make shoes, and try to eat my cat. And if you know the value of a cat during a werewolf home invasion, nobody eats my cat—nobody. Faeries populate all objects and places on earth, including, but not limited to, rocks, caves, trees, streams, tunnels, precious gems, Britney Spears, walls, the dank and lonely spots under bridges, and, according to the television program South Pa
rk, your underpants drawer.
Faeries are anywhere from a few inches tall to human size, although they average between two and three feet. They sometimes seem to be helpful, but enough of them are evil, mean spirited, and violent toward humans, so if you see one, shoot it. Our consolation should lie in that they’ll sort out the good faeries from the bad faeries in the afterlife. A chapter in the FBI Policy Manual, “Faeries, Trolls, and Other Quasi-Mythological Terrorists,” addresses the proper procedure when encountering something wearing a beard and pointy shoes. Shoot it in the face.
Faerie Powers
Faeries have more abilities than a Chinese gymnastics team. They can become invisible, fly, change body size like Apache Chief from Superfriends, become an animal, grant limited wishes, teleport, and be mean as a badger. They can lure humans into magical circles called Faerie Rings where time crawls by like in a college philosophy course. In these rings, the faeries make the humans trapped there dance until they drop dead.
No way. Rule Three of dealing with faeries: find their weakness and stick an ice pick through it.
Faerie Weaknesses
Gold. The little buggers can’t get enough of it. Gold coins, gold nuggets, Gold Bond Medicated Powder, gold jewelry, Grillz, anything gold will grab their attention long enough for you to load a rifle and put a bullet between their ears. Most faeries, except leprechauns, can be fooled by costume jewelry, but don’t count on your faerie to be something other than a leprechaun. A leprechaun will know the difference between real gold and your wife’s engagement ring. If you tick off a leprechaun, they’ll steal your fillings and take a dump in places around your house that’ll make you move furniture.
