When Clckja’djzx woke up, he couldn’t stop thinking about Guy Blanco. Should I beg Menthoralix to bring Guy Blanco back from the dead? he thought. No. It was a silly idea. The great red dragon would never honor such a greedy request. Menthoralix despised greed. Suddenly, a realization struck Clckja’djzx: what if Guy Blanco wasn’t dead? Afterall, Guy Blanco had replayed for Clckja’djzx the various delightfully charming episodes shot from a period of 1993 to 2021 (whatever those numbers meant) upon request. Oftentimes Guy had been willing to repeat the same bits from the episode more than once, so long as Clckja’djzx input the Zune’s command correctly. Clckja’djzx sighed thinking about how he had watched the 1995 interview with comedian Roan Jivers thirteen times in a row, pausing between the punchlines to laugh at the jokes while Guy Blanco and Roan Jivers held themselves perfectly still. Guy Blanco truly rivals Menthoralix in his kindness and generosity towards me, Clckja’djzx thought, incorrectly.

Menthoralix, the great red dragon of the western and slightly-northerly (but not too northerly) desert, in his infinite generosity, armed with endless empathy, certainly would answer such important matters as to whether or notGuy Blanco still lived. And, more importantly, where famous Late Night television host Guy Blanco lived.

Clckja’djzx actually knew where, now that he was thinking about it. Guy Blanco lived in Los Angeles. The problem was, however, that Clckja’djzx did not know where Los Angeles was, so that matter was of the utmost importance. Clckja’djzx headed to the chamber of Menthoralix for answers to his most burning desire.

Menthoralix lorded over his army of kobolds, each presenting their many gifts they had brought in proof of their subservience. Clckja’djzx had brought a spare cactus he had found several weeks back, for he knew that his dragon master rewarded those who brought him gifts. The spines pricked at Clckja’djzx’s. If only there was such a sort of container by which to hold cacti, rather than by their needles. Such a device was not necessary for Menthoralix to handle the cactus, and therefore it was not necessary for kobolds (the great red dragon had decreed before Clckja’djzx was born.)

Clckja’djzx approached Menthoralix, the red dragon’s wet breath fell down on him like a ton of bricks. The kobold cleared his throat, and spoke.

“I have brought tribute to the great Menthoralix! A cactus!”

“Good, throw it on the pile. Next!” The dragon bellowed.

Of course the exchange really sounded more like “plkxxxjkkha’bhgaksduihal, Menthoralix! A cxxcasstatsus” with the dragon responding with “Ythe, ueriqo pilay, rngasdjhqixxxasdht. Next!”

“Wait! In exchange for my tribute I invoke my union-negotiated right to a minute of your time, once every five years!”

The dragon sighed.

“Your union-negotiated right to my time is granted, tiny feeble, and nameless one.”

Clckja’djzx was shocked. How could the great one have forgotten his name? The same being who had bestowed upon him the holy title, had completely forgotten Clckja’djzx’s name. Clckja’djzx brushed the concern aside, for he knew that the great red dragon had many servants, many with unpronounceable names. Plus, Menthoralix had known Clckja’djzx would deeply enjoy the gift of Guy Blanco. Menthoralix was clearly being sly, knowing the other kobolds would steal the gift of his favor from Clckja’djzx if they saw the dragon bestow too much favor.

“Myself, who you have humbly named Clckja’djzx, would first like to thank his holiness for the great gift you have bestowed upon me. It has only further served to strengthen my faith in you, your scaliness, for it brought me many hours of joy.” Clckja’djzx supplicated low, completely stretching his arms to the ground, unaware that his heart was about to break.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

“Of course my dear servant. I reward all those faithful to me, humble Clickjdhahuqiax.”

That was odd. The great master had mispronounced Clckja’djzx’s name. Frustration welled up inside the kobold.

No. No. It is merely one of his master’s sly games still.

“I humbly request your godly knowledge.” The kobold trembled as the dragon’s nearly knocked him to his side.

“As established in the union contract-” the dragon yawned, as if to aid his supplicant was a chore. Clckja’djzx knew better, of course, for the great god of the world and its gemstones was of limitless empathy( or so he then thought). The dragon began the declaration again.

“As established in the union contract, I will answer two questions, and may grant one favor if I deem you worthy.”The dragon yawned again.

“Yes, your scaliness. My first question is this: does Guy Blanco still live?”

The dragon thought a moment, reached behind himself, and opened a book written in Celestial, the language of the lesser gods. The dragon briefly chanted a bit of text, and his eyes flashed white.

“Guy Blanco lives. Yes. He still lives in a city on a western coast. Such has my tome of infinite knowledge informed me.”

The dragon yawned, and nestled his head on his front right leg.

This was excellent news. Clckja’djzx rejoiced! Guy Blanco was alive! Now, on to how to meet Guy Blanco.

“You’re scaliness, my second question: how does one meet Guy Blanco? You certainly must know, for he rivals your empathy, your charm, and your humor and is therefore god-like in his behavior.”

The dragon signed, and lazily flipped open the tome of infinite knowledge while he muttered another minor incantation. The dragon’s eyes went wide as he shot up, roaring fire into the ceiling.

“You will never speak of that name again. You will never meet Guy Blanco, for he is filth of the earth, and holds infinite greed. He is far too dangerous. Guy Blanco is now banned, by decree of his godliness. None of my servants shall utter the name Guy Blanco, for his very name holds the power to bring infinite evil upon you!”

The whole room went silent. Clckja’djzx wanted to cry: it didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. Clckja’djzx knew Guy Blanco. The talk show host was frail, clumsy, and friendly. These were not qualities of evil adventurers. Like Menthoralix, Guy held infinite empathy and generosity with his time. Guy would never hurt anyone, and would never dare bring infinite evil upon anyone.

“Punish this pathetic wyrm, for he has wronged the great god Menthoralix by daring to mutter a rival’s name!” Menthoralix bellowed.

Two stronger kobolds grabbed Clckja’djzx, and led him back to his apartment. Clckja’djzx cried the whole way there. He was put on tunnel-digging duty, the duty reserved for only the worst kobolds. Those who stole from the great dragon. Clckja’djzx knew he did nothing wrong. His only crime was saying a word that Menthoralix had banned after the kobold had spoken it.

No. His only crime was seeing Menthoralix for what he truly was: a liar. For centuries the kobolds had toiled under the dragon, subject to his cruelty, his greed, and his gaslighting. He wasn’t a god. He was a charlatan. Guy Blanco had shown him the error of his ways. Clckja’djzx-

The kobold formerly known as Clckja’djzx interrupted the narrator to speak.

“Guy Blanco, if you can hear me, I am leaving this place tomorrow. I am going to run far away from this dragon jerk so I can see your weird bony arms again. I promise. And to show the seriousness of my promise, I am no longer Clckja’djzx. Call me…”

The kobold formerly known as Clckja’djzx dragged his final word, giving the narrator ample to explain that he was looking for a better name. A name that meant something; a name that spoke true to what he wanted to be, proof that he was committed to a life that Guy Blanco would approve of.

Of course. The kobold thought.

“Call me Zune Tee-em.”

And so Zune Tee-em, a true disciple of Guy Blanco, planned his escape.