A Dragon, Poop, and a Hazmat Suit

“I can't cut off his nuts.”  Writer Lady says holding up both hands.  “No sharp objects.”   She says pushing her way past the group.

“Mom.”   Dobby's call stops her as she stands in the entry her hands resting on the frame of the doorway.  “If you go into the living room now it will change everything,forever.”

Writer Lady closes her eyes and bows her head for a moment releasing a tired sigh.  “I know.  Like TP said 'Don't cut off his nuts'.  It just seems so unfair.” Writer Lady looks at Dobby.

There is tenderness(?) in her eyes.  No.  It couldn't be tenderness, could it?  It has been a really long day.  Love?  Who knows.  It wasn't anger or disdain.  How about that for progress?  Maybe it was just PMS or something.  Some months there's anger and other months weepy, vulnerability.  It really can go either way.  She did have those super loaded nachos for breakfast.  So...any who...

“How about this Mom, what if I go and help?  Tinkletoes is my best friend and he took care of you when I needed him to.  I'll be his back-up now.  Would that make you feel better?”

“Yes kitty. It would.”

“Your champion officially has a second.”   Dobby announces bowing with great flourish.  The ginger tabby walks past Writer Lady only to be scooped up into her arms.

“I can't let you do that kitty.  Not yet.  A second cannot go into battle without being properly outfitted.”

“Mo-om.”  Dobby groans.

“You'll get poop in your fur.  Do you want that super smelly dragon poop in your fur?”  Writer Lady asks.

“No.”

“Then come with me.  I'm sure TP can help with this.”

“This isn't going to be like the pjs is it?”  Dobby asks.

“Of course not.”  Writer Lady reassures him.  “You didn't like the pjs?   They were adorable.”

“They had cartoon puppies.  Do you have any idea how ridiculous an orange tabby looks in pjs with cartoon puppies on them?”

“I understand that you are a big boy now and you can pick out your own clothes.  This is entirely for your protection kitty.  Trust me.”

“As long as you understand. I'm too big for you to carry me around too by the way.”  Dobby protests, wiggling in her arms.

Writer Lady keeps walking.

“Can I at least walk?   Mom?”

“Hmm...hmm...” Tinkletoes paces back and forth creating a half circle pattern in front of Diomedes.  Stepping through the poopy mud permeating Writer Lady's carpeting he stops near the entry, turning around, he squats down studying the dragon as he runs his fingers along his jaw.  “This is a whole lot of poop dragon.”

“Yes sir.”  Diomedes says.

“Do dragons usually poop this much?”

“No.”

“How are things...well...normally.”

“Dragons are fierce creatures.”  Diomedes says.

“Lots of body parts in your piles.  Arms?  Legs?”  Tinkletoes asks.

“You didn't let me finish.  Dragons are fierce creatures but we are also magical ones.  As long as we reside in Faerie our excrement is...how do I say this...our poop reflects not only our diets but our emotional state.”

“When you eat the wrong things you end up with this?”  Tinkletoes asks.

Diomedes nods.

“When you eat the right things and you are content or happy.”  He prompts.

“When I'm in Faerie it looks like a large dollop of fluffy whipped cream and it smells like cotton candy.  Until it disappears.”

“Your poop does disappear doesn't it?  I've been meaning to ask you, where does that stuff go?  You know when you...”

“Oh no.   Oh no!”   House's voice fills the living room.  “I knew it.  I could tell something was wrong.  Didn't I tell you something was wrong?”  House's paper image travels along the wall.  She stares in horror at what the rest of her has become.   Mural Man's image follows close behind.

“Relax.  No one did this on purpose.”  Tinkletoes says looking at her.  “We're sorting the problem out now.”

“How did this happen?”  House cries.

Tinkletoes rises to his full height and crosses the room to stand next to Diomedes.  As his booted foot sinks into the carpet there is a sloshing sound.  House's reflexion changes colors eventually settling on a brown hue.   An outline of the sole of Tinkletoes' boot rests on her cheek.

House stares at her darkening hands.  “I'm filthy.   Filthy!”

“It's okay.  Everything is going to be okay.”  Mural Man says looking into House's eyes.  “Just stay calm.”

“Calm?  Stay calm?”   I'm covered in poop!  It's everywhere permeating every corner.  Entire walls are covered.  Look at my crown molding.”

“It's still beautiful.”  Mural Man says.  “You're beautiful.   You will always be beautiful.  I love you.”

“I love you too Mur.”

“Could you two save that crap for later?”  Tinkletoes asks.  “I'm up to my ankles in this.”

“Of course.”  Mural Man agrees.

“Dobby, be careful kitty.”

Dobby gestures to the screen Ray, Carp, Peter, Dylan, and TP are watching. “There is stuff happening and I'm missing it.”

“Can I just tie this shut?”

“No this suit was a waste of time.”  Dobby fusses with his makeshift protective armor.   “It's not even armor.  It's a garbage bag with an opening for my head.”

“TP covered your arms without limiting your movement; a regular garbage bag can't do that.”  Writer Lady points out.  She reaches down, picking up the flap ties on the bag to secure it closed.

“Mom that tickles.”

“This is for your own protection.  It's like a big waterproof jumpsuit so you won't get any more poop in your fur.”

“Well I can't help your hero out there if I'm still dressing in here.”

“We're almost done.  Put on your gloves.”  She says.   “Dobby, stop looking at the tv and hold your paws out.”  Writer Lady puts the large blue gloves on the ginger tabby's paws.  “Here's your helmet.” She says holding out a large brown mass.

“Really?”

“Put it on.”

Dobby looks at the helmet and makes a face.

“Do you want to go or not?” Writer Lady asks.

Dobby glares at her.

“Helmet.”

Picking up the helmet Dobby puts it on his head.  “This thing is too heavy and it looks ridiculous.”

“TP's a faerie, I didn't realize when I said “hazmat” he would think it meant some sort of a mat had to be part of the ensemble.”

“This is embarrassing.”  Dobby says.  The ginger tabby heads for the living room shuffling and crinkling with every step.