While I Scramble

 

                It has happened again! I have been placed in mortal danger. Being a peasant is really getting to be a pain these days!

                This morning a giant griffin flew over my village, picked me up in her paws, and dropped me into a giant nest. Then, she left again to find more food.

                Here I sit in the middle of three eggs and have been sitting for several hours. The eggs sound almost ready to hatch. I keep hearing scratching and cracking. Soon, I will be regurgitated griffin baby food.

                Do griffins regurgitate their food? I would assume so since the head is like a bird. But their stomach is in the lion part of their body. Perhaps they have the innards of a lion as well. If they feed their young like a lion would, I imagine there will still be a great deal of tearing at my flesh before the initial feeding process begins.

                I appear to be fated to be someone’s dinner. If I am going to be devoured by beasties, this is not the worst of it. Babies do need to eat. At least I am helping with the circle of life, right?

                Right.

                Oh! A shell just cracked open. I see a beak! Why am I excited about this? I am about to become baby’s first meal. But this little griffin is just so darn adorable. He is making these peep noises and trying to shake bits of shell off of his skinny, featherless wings. Of course, he’s the size of a border collie so his “peeps” are loud enough to shake the nest.

                He just noticed me! What do I do? What do I do? Do I try to hide behind one of the other eggs? Too late. He’s coming towards me. Better just get this over with. Maybe if I offer my head first, it will all end quickly.

                His beak is moving towards me. I hope it’s sharp enough to—

                And he’s nuzzling me. And purring.

                Griffins purr. Who knew?

                I think I just became an uncle.

                Now? How do I get down?

While I Digest

Hi there. I was recently devoured by a dragon. A huge dragon. Swallowed me whole.

Served me right too. I stepped on his tail.

The only problem with being eaten whole is the waiting. I’m currently sitting in a pool of stomach acids while I watch bits of knight float by. It’s really boring. The only reason why I can see anything is because of the pilot light in the dragon’s belly. At least now I finally know how they breathe fire.

As I sit here slowly allowing the juices to eat away at my tunic, I must stop to ponder at my life. I worked each day. I ate a great deal of porridge. I slept on a straw mattress (I may have been poor, but I was never sleep on a dirt floor poor). And I walked places . . . using my feet.

Huh. Peasant life really does not lend itself to a great deal of pre-death pondering.

Uh-oh. The dragon is opening his mouth again. I see a big, human shaped shadow coming down on me. Maybe I’ll have some company.

Never mind. It’s just half of a lord, a very portly lord. Even just his torso and head made a splash like you would not believe. He does not look like he was a particularly healthy fellow. Most likely full of starches. The dragon just released the most un-gentlemanly belch.

Now I’m getting bored again. I could sing. I wonder if I sing if people will be able to hear me from outside of the dragon? Would that draw a crowd?

This is starting to look grim and smell pretty awful. I think the dread is setting in. And all of the stomach tissues keep gurgling.

Gross! The large lord seems to be giving the dragon indigestion. Everything is churning and bubbling and—

Oh no! Not that! I just heard a thunderous sound which has shaken every muscle within this dragon and a portal has opened beneath me.

I have just realized what shall be worse than being eaten whole by a dragon — passing through the rest of the digestive track while still alive. I wish I had nose plugs.