Let's Send This One to An Ancestry Site

Oblique reference to sexual activity

Daddy! Daddy!! Daddy!!!

I think I’m breaking the land speed record getting to Teddy’s bedroom, where I find him plastered against the wall, unmoving, seemingly paralyzed with fear. Walking toward him I say, “Son, come here, what’s the matter?”

“No!” he screams. “If I move it will attack me!”

“What will attack you?”

His arm slowly raises and a shaky finger points to the open window. And there on the sill is a small lizard, clearly having squeezed through the narrow space where the screen doesn’t quite fit against the frame. Had been meaning for months to fix that.

“It’s just a little chameleon,” I tell him. “He won’t hurt you.” And with that I pick up Teddy and set him in the hallway, telling him I’m shutting the door so the lizard can’t get into the rest of the house and then I’ll be sure he gets back outside.

“No!” Teddy scream through the closed door. “You have to kill him!”

“Son, that really won’t be necessary. We’ll just put him in the yard, seal the opening with tape so he can’t come back in, and tomorrow I’ll get a new screen and fix it for good.”

Meanwhile the lizard is calmly eying me from the sill, making no move to either come further in or go back out. There’s something odd about him, but I dismiss the thought and return to the matter at hand.

Which is Teddy remaining insistent. “Dad, you have to kill him.”

“But, why?”

“Because otherwise he’ll find a way back in and kill me!”

What on earth is going on in that little four-year-old mind???

So I slowly approach the lizard, really not convinced I want to kill it. But if I don’t and Teddy sees it in the yard or at his window he’s going to be terrified every time. And however irrational his fear, I don’t want my son to have to live like that.

I take off my shoe, the only “weapon” available, and advance slowly. I’m just about upon him now, shoe raised – wait, I have to be imaging this – is he looking up and smiling? What? I lower my arm, pause, think. OK, I was a wrestling champ in high school, a football star in college, and a decorated Marine many times over during my years of service. So am I really going to have a problem dispatching basically an oversized bug because I ridiculously think it’s smiling at me?

Wait, no, of course not smiling. That’s just the natural shape of a lizard’s mouth. With renewed determination, I again raise the shoe. And then . . .

Hey, bucky, could we just talk a moment about this killing thing?

The shoe drops from my hand and I sit down hard on the kiddie chair next to me, surprised it didn’t break into pieces. I did not hear that. No way. Impossible.

I slowly look back at the sill, and damn, there’s that smile again, looking quite real. And now I also see what nagged at my brain a few moments earlier. This guy doesn’t look like a normal chameleon.

He’s quietly watching me appraise him. Watching me take in the tiny tufts on his head, the small ridges along his spine, the extra skin at his sides that he flexes to reveal as wings. Oh, no, no, no. You don’t exist, you never existed.

And now I hear my wife Ellie returning from band practice with our 12-year-old Troy. Quick, put me in your shirt pocket, I won’t move a muscle or say a thing. Just find a place we can chat later.

“What? Chat la . . .” But now Teddy is talking excitedly to his mother and brother as footsteps approach the door, and I snatch him up and into the pocket he goes. This would not be the time for show and tell.

The door opens and Ellie says, “Milo, what’s this about a killer lizard?’

Teddy immediately interjects, “Did you kill it daddy, did you kill it, did you kill it?”

As we all move down the hall, I sidestep his question, answering Ellie instead with “Oh, no worries. There was a chameleon in Teddy’s room and it scared him.”

“What a wimp!” Troy bellows, hooting with laughter.

Ellie is quick with, “Leave your brother alone Troy. Now Teddy, why do you want to kill a harmless lizard?”

We’re now sitting in the living room and I have managed to cloak myself in a calm exterior that is threatened by both the slight pressure I feel against my chest and the dog showing an inordinate interest in me, jumping around my legs and whimpering a bit. Very thankful for the obedience course, I say, “Dexter, go to your bed,” and bless him he does, still though keeping a sharp eye on me. Ellie looks at him, puzzled, but lets it go.

Teddy is quiet, not yet answering his mom’s question. Then his eyes take on the look kids get when they’re about to tell a lie or a truth they think won’t be believed. “Because . . . because . . . he . . . he . . . told me he’s a dragon.” I start a bit and feel a tiny movement in my pocket.

Fortunately no one notices, and Ellie decides to play along in what simply seems a child’s game of make-believe. “But you like dragons,” she says

And now I have to squarely face the dizzying reality that I’m not in a make-believe world. The movement says there’s indeed a creature in my pocket, and Teddy’s revelation says the thing apparently can freakin’ talk.

“Yeah I did, until Troy showed me dragon stories online. They pick up people with their claws, fly them to their caves, then kill them and eat them.”

“Troy!!! Why???” Ellie demands.

“Ummm, because it was fun?”

“I’ll deal with you later, Troy. Teddy, you told me Daddy was taking care of it, so you’re OK now right?”

Teddy looks at me and I say, “Absolutely nothing to worry about,” quickly adding, “I think I’ll take Dexter for a run in the park, he seems restless.” No chance of anyone wanting to come along because Ellie will be hosting her book club soon and the kids need to be badgered, and badgered, into anything physical.

Once on our way, down the road, out of sight of the house, the lizard, ahhh dragon, leaps out of my pocket and makes himself comfortable on the passenger seat. To keep from looking like a babbling idiot, I put my Bluetooth on so I can talk to the stupid thing. I check the review mirror and see Dexter, harnessed into the back seat, distracted by all the fascinating scenery passing by the window.

In the front seat, the scaly face turns toward me. OK, may not look like an idiot, but I sure feel like one as I ask, “Where on earth did you come from?”

Cleveland! Just flew in and boy are my wings tired. Ha, kidding.

A comedian. Of course. Why not.

Actually from nowhere on earth. Rather from a place called Dragonia. Dragonia! Big surprise huh, haha. It’s a land of enchantment, a land of plenty, a land of beauty. And before we go any further, let me introduce myself. I’m called Donnie.

“Donnie the Dragon.”

Well, an affectionate nickname for Don, Don that is kind of in the sense of a born leader. That’s why I was the one of the ones elected this time to come into your world. And specifically to you.

“Specifically to me?”

Yeah, man.

“But why me?”

Because you’re an exec vp and because you . . . ahhhh . . . have dragon genes.

My hands fly up off the steering wheel, the car swerves, I fight to regain control, realize late we’re at the park entrance, screech a right turn. And meanwhile the shriek I just heard may have come from me.

I manage to get the car reasonably into a parking space and, dragon in pocket {!}, Dexter on a retractable leash, I head for an isolated picnic table, again thanking the techie fates for Bluetooth. I settle on the bench, “Don” stays in his pocket cave, Dexter proceeds to check out every tree, shrub, flower and blade of grass.

There are a million questions ricocheting around my brain, but the one that emerges is based on recency. “How could I possibly, possibly . . . ?”

So, Milo, OK if I call you Milo?

“Yeah, fine.”

Milo, let me tell you a little story.

And the tale begins . . .

Dragonia vastly pre-dates earth’s creation. But unlike you earthlings, we haven’t evolved at all. No need. Always been dragons, always been healthy, smart, caring, kind, gentle. In fact, we breathe fire only when we sneeze or pass . . . never mind.

And we’ve always come in all different sizes. Believe it or not I’m 52, look at me, not a gray scale in sight. Sorry, dragon humor. But we little guys are most suited for our Project 400.

“Project 4 . . .”

Wait, I’ll get to that, bucky. What makes us unique is that Dragonia is one of the rare bouncing space balls. Which is to say, we just push a button and Vroom, we can drive our whole world anywhere we want to go. We may be the original joy riders! What else makes us unique is our shielding. Phooey on your Hubble, nobody, nothing, can see any of us bouncers as we cruise through the universes.

So, one quiet starry night, we’re idling around Alpha Centauri - Proxima of course, you get the best rays there - and another world pulls up next to us and these folks that seem a lot like you guys are waving, and we wave back. We’re kind of thrilled actually as there’s a limited number of us bounce-arounds and so it’s not very often we encounter a fellow traveler. We extend our bridge and, son of a gun, they’ve got one to connect to it. And over they come. Party time!

And here’s the thing, and it’s fortunate you’re not driving now – I about got seasick with that last move - they are ahhh basically humans, look and act just like you, way before you guys even started crawling out of the water.

“Wait, are they called humans?”

Actually, auroras. Real good-time peeps. They introduced us to music, we introduced them to space juice.

After an abundance of toasts things turned frisky and, let's just say we got into each other's genes. Genes, get it!

An unexpected chuckle escapes me.

So, during the happy days that followed we discovered many shared values and traits, and soon enough a shared language, and they even took our name. And we decided we would rock around the rocks together from then on. We used to race each other but one time our wake blew a moon out of orbit so we kind of cooled it after that.

And yowza were we all just thrilled to the core when we came upon found you. We just couldn’t believe all the fun, the goodies, the perks you folks have. So we both parked and began extracting stuff like mad, but we had to start with the English language to be able to enjoy all the rest. Yikes could you have chosen a more difficult one??? Words that sound alike but have different meanings, words that are different but mean the same, words spelled alike but with different pronunciations. And don’t get me started on conjugations.

The memory of grammar class and grim Miss Grimes sparks a little sympathy.

Anyway you more than made up for now it with television – LOVE the SciFi channel and old time movies – plus pizza, tacos, Haagen Dazs rum raisin, cocktails that put our space juice to shame, window shades, ear plugs, Internet, paper clips, and especially holiday celebrations. We now go festive for every one of them. Bit of trouble though for the dragons with birthday cake, blowing out the candles you know . . .

So, w acquired these things by sending pure auroras and our most human-looking hybrids over into your world as research scouts. Quite a few decided to stay and make a life there. One of the hybrids married your great grandfather.

“Wait . . . so my . . . my great grandma . . . was . . . was . . .

Relax, all good. So now we can finally talk about Project 400, and how it involves you. Here’s a clue – your role as a top exec at a Fortune 400 Company is key. And so is the fact that your family tree, well, you know.

Our folks have spent the last couple of years visiting the U.S. and collecting dna samples from as many such execs as possible – not that difficult, cigarette, straw, coffee container, soda cup, hair strand, even a licked stamp. When we find matches we send auroras to auroras and dragons to dragons.

So, here I am but don't worry that I’m going to hang around and scare your son again, no ongoing relationship, no backyard bbqs, no zoom chats, no shared vacations in Cabo. I’m just here to deliver a message to someone we are pretty sure has inherited our values and may be willing to listen to a family member, regardless of how distant and improbable.

Here’s the thing bucky, I mean Milo, you folks are messing up big time. The way you’ve beat up Mother Nature is criminal. The vitriol between the political parties time and again stops any work, any good, for the people and at the same time gives a green light to toxic behavior throughout the land.

Plus, it seems you’re on the brink of perpetual dissension, sometimes even hatred, between races, religions, genders. And the violence! What’s up with all the violence? Hey, here’s an idea, try love, respect, decency, you’ll like it.

And if I may take it down to petty for just a moment - candy corn, really? Altogether, very, very bad – look, I learned this cool sideways finger wave from a Seinfeld episode, ha!

Doggone him, that brought an actual smile.

But seriously cuz, you and the other execs add up to a powerful bloc that can do something about it. Start with your own company, see how the culture can be improved. Check if there are ways to make your community more neighborly. Investigate what charitable endeavors you or your company can support. Do whatever you can to help the younger generation grow into responsible adults.

But most important, become a burr in the butt of your legislators, city, county, state, U.S. Write letters, make phone calls, visit their offices, start or sign petitions, let your money speak through targeted donations, use every bit of influence you have, support those in power who support your values. You biggies didn’t ascend to the “suits” wing by being dummies, so you all can certainly figure out this and more.

I’ll confess our project has a distinctly selfish component because we want you folks to thrive so we can continue to share in the benefits. But the greatest boon is for America, for just sheer quality of life for Americans.

“It’s a pretty big ask.”

Yeah I can see a sort of deer in the headlights thing going on. But just like you brake for the deer, I’d like you to just stop and think about the possibilities. Could you maybe nod your head that you’ll at least consider it. OK, good, thank you. And while not yet 400, more execs than you would ever guess are already fully on board.

That said, I’ll shortly be on my way and it’s not likely we’ll meet again. But all of Dragonia will be watching, and hoping.

But one last thing before I go. What does a guy have to do around here to get a little Rum Raisin . . .

-- end --