KILGHARAH THE ULTIMATELY POWERFUL, VANQUISHER OF SQUIRRELS

I’m lying on a cloud.

And not just any cloud, no, this has got to be like the softest fucking cloud in the history of clouds.

Like, no joke, it’s soft, fluffy, and kinda bouncy too, with a very nice heart shape that just tells me that when this cloud walks in the club, all the boys go “dayum!”

Yes, indeed, this is a very nice cloud.

So, anyway, I’m on a cloud, flying through the sky (because, where else would a cloud be?), and I’m headed to the most wonderful place of all; I’m headed to Cornucopia.

Where the fuck is Cornucopia, you ask?

Well, long ago, in the mysterious land of Toronto, Canada, Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory fucked Mt. Olympus from Disney’s Hercules, and wouldn’t you know it, a baby was born. That’s Cornucopia.

A mountaintop paradise with rivers of honey, waterfalls of chocolate, hills of bread, and gay, perfectly done steak frolicking in the valleys. Ooh la la.

At the barred gates, eternally denied entry, there’s an owl requesting, nay, begging to be allowed in.

His face is a sniveling mess as he pleads with the heavens above to permit him entry; begging to be able to taste of the bounties of Cornucopia.

Strange, I think, he looks sort of familiar.

As I fly past above him on my fluffy cloud, the owl sees me.

‘Kilgharah!’ he screams. ‘Mighty Kilgharah. Please, forsake me not. Even if just a drop from your fingertips, let me taste of the riches of Cornucopia.’

I gaze upon him as I pass. Then I look away.

I know him not.

My wonderful, bouncy cloud comes to rest in a valley with grass as vividly green as the eyes of any male love interest in a harlequin romance, and I disembark, and, for several seconds, just take it all in.

A herd of prime ribs saunters past, and their delectable aroma invades my nostrils and temporarily shuts down my mind.

‘God, I’m so fucking hungry.’

The kindly voice of an older woman whispers in my ear: ‘Then why don’t you eat, dear?’

Yeah, she’s right. Why don’t I just—wait, who the fuck was that?

I open my eyes to pitch darkness; a squelching sound; a tight squeezing sensation all arou—

I open my eyes to a kindly older woman with kind eyes and a kind smile patting my head kindly.

‘Hello there, little dragon,’ she says kindly.

‘Sup.’ I blink at her. ‘Uh, who are you?’

Her kindly smile widens. ‘You can call me Nana, little dragon.’

Oh, great, I almost roll my eyes. One of those old ladies who get everyone to call them Nana, thinking it’ll get people to like them or something.

Well, jokes on you, lady. Cause I didn’t even like my actual Nana, so good luck getting me to like you.

Now, where the fuck am I? I wonder, looking around at my weirdly blurry surroun—

‘Are you hungry, little dragon?’ Nana kindly asks, and my eyes snap back to her.

‘Yes, please.’ I nod.

She smiles kindly, then gestures to the spread of numerous dishes before us. ‘Help yourself then,’ she pronounces.

For a moment, I stare at the wondrous bounty before me.

‘OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD,’ I whisper in awe, before diving headfirst into the nearest dish; a thick meaty broth that simply tastes divine.

From there I jump to the next, and the next, and the next, and the next, on and on and on. Soups, pastries, fruits, meat, the options are as inexhaustible as my appetite.

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My too inexhaustible appetite.

I don’t know for how long I eat before I realize it, but I’m not getting full. At all.

I must have eaten three times my body weight by now, and yet I feel just as famished as when I started.

What the hell?

‘Well, maybe you should eat some more,’ Nana suggests kindly.

‘Well, I could, I guess. But what’s the point? I’m still hungry.’

Nana’s kind smile twitches oddly. ‘You know,’ she says, though not as kindly as before, ‘some people would be happy to be able to eat without ever getting full.’

‘Those people are idiots who’ve never actually being hungry,’ I say, utterly unimpressed with her “silver lining” shit.

The reason I want to eat is not because I enjoy the taste, it’s because I’m fucking hungry.

Nana’s smile does that twitching thing again.

Okay, that’s fucking weird.

And speaking of weird—‘Where am I?’ I wonder aloud.

‘Don’t be silly, Kilgharah,’ Nana says. ‘You’re home.’

I stare at her like she’s bonkers.

‘No, I’m not. This isn’t my home, I’ve got no fucking clue where the fuck this is... And how the fuck do you know my name?’

The old lady rolls her eyes, but there’s a clear hint of frustration in them now.

‘Because you told me, you silly goose.’

‘No, I didn’t. This is the first time we’ve ever met, and I didn’t tell you my name.

‘And how did I even get here? Last I remember I was—’ my eyes widen as the memory comes to me.

‘Holy fuck,’ I scream. ‘Something swallowed me. Am I dying? Is this like a death dream?’

‘A death dream,’ the old lady says, sounding like she’s trying out the words. She seems to like them, because she smiles, an ugly, terrifying thing, and says: ‘Why yes, Kilgharah. That’s exactly what this is.’

Then she transforms.

In seconds, the old lady no longer looks anything like an old lady, and certainly not a kindly one. Instead she looks like an unholy crossbreed between the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and a leathery skeleton. And let me tell you, that shit ain’t pretty.

‘Holy shitballs,’ I scream.

‘Silence, you vexatious creature,’ the... thing growls, and I suddenly find myself upside down in the air, with one of my legs in a clawed, spindly grip.

She holds me up to her face, and at the sight of her fangs, I just about piss myself.

‘Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Please, don’t eat me,’ I beg.

To my absolute surprise, the monster lady actually stops and stares at me. Then she bursts into laughter.

Confused as all hell, I nevertheless decide to keep her laughing if I can. After all, laughing monster means not-dead Kilgharah.

‘Yeah, see?’ I say nervously. ‘I’ve got funny bones. If you eat me I’m sure I’ll taste funny. Probably make you feel funny too.’

‘I’ve already eaten you, you idiot,’ monster lady screams at me, not feeling so amused anymore.

I blink in confusion, then the memory of the last thing that happened to me before I woke up here replays in my head.

‘Holy shit,’ I say, stunned. ‘I’m dying.’

‘And taking your sweet time with it too,’ she complained. Actually complained. Like, I’m the one being eaten alive and yet this bitch has the temerity to complain.

You know what? Fuck her, and fuck this shit.

And if I really am dying, then I’m taking a page from Dragon Mama’s book and taking this bitch with me.

What was it she always said?

Right.

Kilgharah, if a crazy, psycho, demented, monster bitch ever tries to eat you, spit fire at her face.

Obviously, Dragon Mama never actually said this, but I feel like it’s something she would have said if she could speak, because honestly, this bitch’s face is just begging for a blast of fire right now.

Monster Bitch laughs again.

‘And how are you going to do that when you can’t breathe fire?’ she asks me.

What the—‘How do you know I can’t breathe fire?’

‘Because I can read your mind, you fool. You’re powerless, and we both know it.’

‘Well, right now, sure,’ I agree easily enough. ‘But I’m pretty sure breathing fire can’t be that hard.’

It just can’t be, not with how much Mom did it.

‘Is that so?’ Monster Bitch asks, voice mocking.

‘Yes, that is so. Now, fuck off and die.’

I reach into my chest for that well of heat that I’ve gotten into the habit of ignoring, and pull it up.

Something lodges in my throat and I cough, and a ball of golden, phlegmy fire flies out of my mouth and splashes onto Monster Bitch’s face.

‘Holy fuck!’ I scream.

‘Yaaaaarrrgghhh!’ she screams.

Monster Bitch tosses me to the ground.

‘It burns!’ she shrieks in soul-wrenching agony.

‘Put it out,’ I yell, rushing to her; only to have to duck aside when she almost stomps on me in her panic. So I take to shouting advice from farther back. ‘Tuck and roll; pour some water on it. Put it out.’

Monster Bitch tries to beat the fire down with her bare hands, only for them to catch fire too and she yells again.

‘Don’t use your hands, you dumbass,’ I scream. ‘Tuck and ro—wait, what am I doing? I hate you.’

Having remembered that, my tune instantly changes.

‘Yeah, burn bitch. Die. Woohoo! You like it? I bet you—holy shit, you smell good.’

Monster Bitch finally stops screaming and drops to the ground, the fire still burning.

Is she dead?

The world around me starts going dark.

Um, am I dead?

The world around me dissolves, and I take my first real breath for some time as I become aware of the pain wracking my body.

I’m still in the river, near the very bottom, and, wreathed in golden fire despite being underwater and sinking down to the riverbed, is an oily black blanket-like object.

I ignore it, the pain in my body more demanding.

I swim for the surface, each motion accompanied with discomfort, and around me the water is being stained with gold.

I’m bleeding.

My head breaks the surface, and immediately, I head for the nearest riverbank and crawl onto the sand, then I collapse on my back and simply stare at the bright morning sky.

Fuck my life.

—❈—

Up on a tree, a squirrel witnessed a miracle. He had seen a lizard get swallowed by something in the water and assumed it dead, only for the very same lizard to come crawling back onto the bank, broken and bleeding, but alive.

The squirrel could not speak, but if he could, he would have said: “Oh, come on. This some bullshit.”