Chapter 5

Campfire Confessions II

The mysterious dragon's melody put the weary travelers at ease, as well as enticing the mind of one. Yet the heroes still had a mission to do, and as much time had been wasted already, they were forced to make camp. As their second day on the new world came to a close, the guiding light left them once more in favor of restful darkness.

(It is night. In a forest clearing the group is sitting around a campfire)

Jo: Have to say good job, guys. We've managed to survive another day on this planet and make some headway toward our target.

Sally: Thanks to Lann. Tee hee.

Jo: (Grumbly) Yeah, thanks to Lann. (Regularly) So, who's pooped?

Cope: I'm still feeling fresh, surprisingly.

Squishy: Guess Wind Dragon assaults don't count as tiring.

Rick: Mainly because we didn't really do anything in that fight.

Stan: I'm feeling more alert from hearing that song earlier.

Jo: So it's another case of everyone too energized or whatever to go to sleep.

Gray: Which means another story is in order, I'm guessin'?

Sylvia: You already told yours, so who should go next?

Sara: Ooh! What about Lann?

Sally: Yeah! Let him give his story!

Anna: The whole shebang: Past, present, your distiller, the works!

Lann: I'm flattered, girls, but I don't think—

Sylvia: Don't be bashful; tell us about yourself.

Sam Jackson: Yeah. Please impart unto us how a heavyset white boy such as yourself managed to learn how to dance, and get that b***hin' magic sword as well.

Squishy: What got you into dragons, that kind of stuff.

Will: Do tell us about the man behind the flab.

Lann: Heh heh heh heh... one of these days I'm gonna kick each of you in the balls for every jab you made about my weight. But, for now, I will be happy to detail my life chronicles, since you insist.

Jo: I suppose. Go on.

Lann: Über. Now then. (Stretches out and relaxes into a comfortable position) From the top: My story begins several years ago in a distant land on a distant planet. It's probably best if you start a new paragraph for this.

Much appreciate it. (Clears throat) I was born in an Irish-owned district of the ritzy planet Almania. My mother wasn't Irish but still managed to meet my dad at a hippie gathering in their late teens to protest a "cruel government", a movement that was readily denounced as everyone involved in it were smoking the ganja, which was illegal in those dark, dankless times. Anyway, my mom wasn't overbearing but could still be a pain in the a** at times, which was all the more reason I respected her. Then there was my father. He was only half Irish, but having any fraction of Irish in you was worth respect and prestige ever since the Great Potato Mashing of 40 years ago wiped out nearly all full-blooded Irish. He had a rough and tumble exterior, yet sought a career as the galaxy's first color-blind Irish painter. Sadly it was about that time other color-blind artists had the same idea for their respective nationalities.

Cope: Ah yes: The Erratic Monochromatic Period. A lot of striking subjects, but colorfully unimaginative.

Squishy: I didn't take you for an art snob, Alex.

Cope: My interests are quite vast and varied I'll have you know, Squishy. But do go on, Lann.

Lann: Sure. Anyways, despite my father's shortcomings and my mother's free spirit, they still had one thing going for them: They were insanely loaded. I'm talking trust fund kids here. From what investments I have yet to find out, but I'm in no rush to question my early access to the bling-bling, as the muses of old called it.

You're probably asking right about now: why did I want to become a scholar when I was so stinking rich? Why couldn't I have been an accountant or a freelance snob with all that cash?

Rick: As if we ever need more of those.

Lann: Well the answer is as simple as my early life desires. When I was but a wee lad I was very adventurous: I played pretend and went exploring the lower city despite the teasing of my fellow rich school fellows. I could only drink apple juice in solace at their insults, but once I hit my growth spurt I showed them my mastery of the Atomic Wedgie.

Stan: (Hisses) That's a sting that never leaves ya.

Will: Stan, you've never worn pants once in your life.

Sally: Or been bullied by anyone beside me and Rick.

Rick: And it wasn't really bullying to begin with.

Stan:...I still know how nasty wedgies can be, alright? (Looks ashamed)

Lann: But before all that, there was one particularly influential aspect of my childhood. A few days out of every week, when I was feeling too restless to go to sleep, my mom would lull me to sleep by telling me stories. Most of them were the run-of-the-mill Jack and Jill, beanstalk cry wolf type, but there was one story in particular that caught my full, uninhibited, youthful imagination: one that told of dragons. Ever since she spoke those wondrous descriptions I never wanted to hear anything else from her. So whenever story time came around I would always demand one about dragons. At first she thought it was pretty cute, but as weeks of endless telling went by she grew a bit tired of it, bless her heart. Yeah, I had reduced her to putting me to sleep using NyQuil, which may have led to my developing an alcohol addiction at the tender age of 15.

That aside, the times my mother did oblige me with a story were always memorable. Her descriptions were indescribably descriptive: Beings with great wings, shiny scales, great wisdom and that could breathe fire still fill me my mind at the very mention of dragons. In a way I owe my whole love and obsession of dragons to my ever dear mother.

Sara: Awwww, that's awful sweet.

Gray: Dang. If my mom gave descriptions that good, I probably would have dug into my own skull to slay the dragons that'd pop up there. Bwa ha ha ha ha ha— (Everyone gives him a look) Uhhhh…. Guess that wasn't so funny.

Lann: Moving on. When I became old enough to go to the library I spent all my free time looking up dragons. While the selection was practically nil, what little there was only further raised my interest in them. Then, at the age of 13, I decided on what my career would be: dragon studies. So against the wishes of my parents and the wiles of some very stunning prep girls, I headed off to Coruscant to attend the University of Scientific Reason and Intelligent Studies at the age of 18. With me I brought my shades, my killer trenchcoat, some practice rifles, my calico Cal, some dragon paraphernalia, a modest 8 million credit going-away present, and my personal bed custom-fitted with hydraulics and mood lights.

Sam Jackson: D******n… Hydraulics? Were you planning on burying yourself in people every weekend? Sh***-**t.

Lann: Nah, but it never hurts to come prepared for those especially rough sessions.

Anna: Ooooooookay… Not drunk enough to want to imagine that.

Lann: Now the first years of college were tough, as was expected. Made tougher by the fact that my major was set in the far back of the Obscure Subjects wing. As I did my studies I was looked down upon by my more practical-minded colleagues, who would pull all kinds of pranks on me. These included "accidentally" dropping mustard gas vials in my workspace, getting injected with novacaine and tossed around the place, releasing bacteria that would eat all my clothes except for some of the lacy women's panties I had lying around my room, and ordering 20 pizzas and having me pay for them. Heck, even the religious study majors had their turn at torturing me. One time I woke up in bed to find a dead bat with a lizard's head sewn onto it, and the word "yiffer" taped onto it. Plus, every time I tried to report them, the deans were usually high on marker tips and would spank me, then themselves, then calling that guy from the Six Flags commercials to do the spanking for them.

Yeah, pretty f***ed up university education, I know.

Sally: Oh you poor thing. That's just horrible.

Lann: Meh, it wasn't all bad. While drowning my frustrations in the good stuff I happened upon my drinks of choice: Tequila and Baby Beer, which is tequila mixed with apple juice. Speaking of which, daddy's feeling a little parched. (Whips out flask and chugs) Glub glub glub. (Finishes) Ah, there we go.

Also, I wasn't the only one at university dedicated to studying "nonexistent" subjects and getting hassled for it. Over time we found one another and formed some beautiful friendships. My go-getter attitude eventually earned me the title of Cool Guy and quite the entourage, just slightly cooler than this one, no offense.

Jo: None taken. (Mumble) Big-mouthed ingrate.

Lann: I also got into making short films. Horror genre, mostly. A touch of medieval every now and then. There was one time where I made something that was streamed on the Holo-net for a while. It was a tribute to zombies set to an awesome Bon Jovi song. You may have seen it.

Squishy: Now that you mention it, I think I saw something like that some years back, but that was you?

Lann: If the credits had L-a-n as director, then yes. I left out the second "n", as well as my last name. Figured it make for a cool, edgy handle, which is a decision I still regret bitterly to this day.

Cope: Just about everyone our age has those regrets, unfortunately.

Will: Truly bitter, angsty regrets.

Sara: That whole brooding phase you guys had was so cute, though, from what I remember.

Cope & Will: Utterly Bitter.

Lann: So in all my time on Coruscant was good for the most part. But after graduation, I had to put everything I learned to work. I packed my things and pets, said my goodbyes, and set out to begin my official studies as a bonafide Dragon Scholar. For the past several years I combed the ends of the galaxy following clues as to the whereabouts of proof that dragons had actually existed. Even though they all led to dead ends, it didn't mean nothing good came out of those expeditions. Over my travels I got to see many new interesting places, while also taking up lessons in swordplay and dancing. I wanted to be a quadruple threat: A scholar, swordsman, dancer, rich Irish drunken brawler. The Republic dream, basically.

Plus, I even managed to bang a woman, or man, or anything between on each planet I visited. So far I've kept a perfect record of 29 out of 29.

Anna: Wow! That's 29 times the number Jo has been with! Astounding!

Jo: Oh hahahahahahahaHA.

Sam Jackson: Heheheheheh, that was actually a good one, not gonna lie.

Jo: Stay out of this, Sam!

Rick: Heh. Okay, so we get the whole why you're into dragons deal. Now what about that sword of yours? How did you come across that?

Lann: (Pulls out sword) Very easily, actually. I got this baby a few years ago during an expedition in the caves of Sullust. I was investigating the possibility of tunneler dragons when I came across a sealed chamber. In it was a pedestal with the sword stuck in it. Thinking it would make a nice addition to my already impressive collection, I decided to go for it. But the moment I touched it some force pushed me back and a voice filled my head. It told me that if I wanted the sword I would have to give up one of my companions, which happened to be my dog and cat.

Though I had taught my sweet Coffee a number of marching commands, I still much preferred pussy(cats), so I regrettably gave her away in exchange for the sword. Turned out to have been something of a sour deal, as some months later Cal died of kidney failure. It was her time, unfortunately.

Sara: That's too bad.

Anna: You have my condolences, man.

Lann: Thanks, but no need. It was a long time ago; I've since moved on doing what I enjoyed.

Anyways, after getting the sword, I did some research and found out that it was forged by an ancient eccentric Jedi, one that really liked swords and always thought of the Force as magic on steroids. He lined the insides of the blade with crystals capable of absorbing and harnessing the very elements of nature, leaving the wielder the task of simply yelling out the kind of attack they wanted. It took me a while, but I managed to nail down those prerequisites superbly.

Of course, the historians wanted to put this weapon in a museum on Coruscant, but I much liked having it, so I gave them a similar-looking sword, said the magic had worn out, and they haven't bothered me since.

Gray: Real sneaky.

Cope: More proof as to how stupid our so-called intellectuals can be.

Sylvia: That sounds like quite the interesting and exciting life, Lann. Traveling around, learning and discovering new things.

Squishy: Like a space-trotting plus-sized Indiana Jones, minus the fedora.

Cope: And a lot of other features.

Will: Like the physique.

Anna: And the whip!

Lann: Ahhhh, f*** you guys. I mean that in the sincerest terms of endearment. It's actually something, being able to sit down and shoot the breeze with THE Jedi, the protectors of our corner of the cosmos. In fact, if I'm being honest, I was sorta hoping to maybe catch you guys in action while I was down here. But I figured it'd be a slim 5% chance, given how big this place is, and that wasn't the primary reason for my coming here. I mean, when a planet teeming with dragons pops into existence, what sort of dragon scholar would pass up the opportunity to get in on that validation hotness? Not me. The moment I heard the reports, I got on a ship and came straight here, though I can't remember where exactly I had landed that thing. Eh, the important thing was that I got to see all sorts of live dragons up close. Oh, and running into you guys of course.

Sally: And that's how you got to be here with us right now!

Sam Jackson: Rather lucky to have ya and that sword of yours, gotta say.

Jo: Though with a whole lotta hoopla and hornswoggle attached to it, I say. I never heard of Dragonology being a course in any institution I know of, so I'm thinking you're a guy with a massive hard-on for dragons who thought they'd try to make themselves sound respectable by calling himself a "Dragon Scholar". Plus that bang quota of yours is way too up there by my reckoning. Methinks you're overcompensating for something.

Lann: Well first of all, I don't see a problem with having a hard-on for dragons. And secondly, what is your beef with me, Jo? We're all just sitting around here trying to relax and you just go tossing shade on me, wholly unwarranted.

Jo: Oh, is that what you think? Guess you expected me or anyone else to forget those little acts of yours you did most of this morning before we got rushed by those little dragons. You know, strutting about, posturing, specifically around the women. Like you were flaunting to win their attention.

Will: Yeah that's right. I wasn't imagining it, was I: you were trying to get sweet with Sara!

Sara: Oh stop it already, Will.

Will: I'm serious! He was totally hounding you!

Sylvia: Wait, then when he asked about being Spider-Man… was that you trying to flirt?

Squishy: (Gasp) Say that isn't so!

Sally: Oh my god, and it was with me as well!

Sam Jackson: Hohhhh s***, they're calling you out!

Rick: Disgraceful.

Stan: I mean, seriously, our mom? When dad is right here!

Gray: Hrrmm. Can't really say I'm appalled or anything. I knew an elf who was way more blatant and desperate about his pursuits.

Jo: It still stands that aside from some fancy dance moves and that magic sword of yours, you're a creep! And it pisses me off that you're shrugging that off with booze and a little charm.

Anna: Just the booze is fine for me.

Cope: Please, Anna.

Lann: (Sigh) Alright, I get you now. Since you were generous enough to let me come along, I owe it to you to be forthcoming about some of my… quirks.

I'll admit, I am something of a horndog, if my galaxy-spanning exploits wasn't evidence enough. You may find this hard to believe, but I actually hit puberty when I was ten, and, uh, lost my virginity when I was thirteen. Not that it was a confusing or even unpleasant experience, but that sort of thing changes a kid, y'know? I started focusing more on developing my charm and self-confidence, instead of feeling the shyness and dread that others my age were feeling on the subject. I thought that was the only natural thing to do, and it would be years later before I realized that no, that's not how it normally goes.

And upholding a confident image wasn't just tied to my libido. Before I punched my V-card, I was a wimp who couldn't stand up for myself, and even as I got older and smarter I was still ostracized by most others. To make up for that I kept finding ways to make myself stand out, to be the center of attention as this suave, confident dude who totally isn't insecure about anything. Whatever it took to distance myself from the weak kid I had been, even up to now when I'm a frickin' adult.

That doesn't justify my behavior up to now; I just wanted you all to be aware of where I'm coming from. At the very least I'll try to behave myself from here on out, and not step on your toes so much, Jo. I wasn't respecting your position as leader and I'm sorry for that much. And I'm also sorry for making any of you ladies uncomfortable, as well.

(Everyone sits quietly, considering)

Sylvia: Well, you were considerate enough to explain yourself, so I can forgive you at least.

Sally: To be fair I did hit you without warning, so I wasn't even aware about you trying to hit on me. I guess that makes us even in my book.

Will: Agggh, you did pull our rumps out of the fire. Just so long as you keep it respectful and not act like such a goober, then I'm okay with it.

Cope: You being a jackass is my biggest issue, since Squishy already fills that role. Keep that in check, and we're kosher.

Squishy: Oh come on Alex, I haven't been that annoying lately. At least, I like to think I haven't.

Sara: I appreciate you for coming forward about this, Lann. That makes you honest and sincere.

Gray: Again, not the worst case of horndogging I've seen in my lifetime.

Sylvia: To be honest, I'm actually a bit flattered you would want to try flirting with me. Apart from Squishy, nobody else in this whole galaxy has ever tried.

Lann: Blind, superficial fools, the lot of them. Fine tail like yours, any true man would be quaking at the knees.

Squishy: That's more or less what I've been saying!

Sylvia: Ohh stop. (Blush)

Rick: This isn't weird in the slightest.

Stan: Yeah.

Sam Jackson: (As Colonel Packard from "Kong: Skull Island") Just don't forget whose side you are on, soldier. You may think yourself some lofted, holier-than-thou scholar, but I ain't got time for research and theories and other sorts of bulls*** that can get my men killed. We are here to kill these God-forsaken monsters before they have a chance to even see where we live. They may think themselves superior, with their wings, and their claws, and fire. But we, ladies and gentlemen, are here to teach them, beyond all shadows of doubt, that Man… is King.

(Everyone just stares at him)

Will: Uhhh, what was that?

Sam Jackson: (Back to normal) What was what?

Rick: Does anybody have any idea why he's doing this?

Sam Jackson: Doing what?

Lann: Hmmm. If I had to harbor a guess, the sheer abundance of mythical creatures maybe creating a tremendous build-up of thaumaturgical energy that is interfering with his trans-dimensional properties, causing him to shift between his many film characters at random.

Stan: Uhh, we can see that last part for ourselves. But what was the rest of that?

Anna: Magic! He means there's a s*** load of magic in the air that's screwing up Samuel Mother-F***ing Jackson's aura array, whatever. I honestly don't know how these random guest appearances work!

Sara: I've actually never thought of that either. How do they get here?

Squishy: Beats me.

Cope: That's a mystery I've long abandoned trying to unravel.

Sam Jackson: Just what in the h*** are all you mumbling about? What's this about my aura? Some chakra s***?

Lann: It's nothing, Sammy. Some New Age gibberish to tire us out.

Jo: Okay so general consensus is everyone is still okay with having this guy around. Well he still irks me but as Gray put it he's not really the worse. So yes Lann, I appreciate the apology and your willingness to not be a bother. Not like I was going to have any real say, anyway.

Cope: Welcome to my world.

Anna: So you all finally got to kiss and make up, splendid. Now how about we finally go to sleep; my head's feeling too heavy for this malarkey. (Hits ground covering self with blanket)

Squishy: Sounds like a good idea. Goodnight, everybody.

Sylvia: Good night, hon.

Gray: Good night, y'all.

Sara: Good night.

Sally: Sweet dreams.

Stan: Good night.

Will: Night.

Rick: Yep.

(Everyone tucks in. Jo just sits there looking at the fire)

Sam Jackson: You okay, man? You're still looking sour.

Jo: I somehow feel like I didn't get to vent as much as I wanted to, but things got all civil and weird and that kinda killed it for me.

Sam: Hmm. I can sorta relate, back in my younger days when I was coming out of my shell. But a guy like you is too old to get all ruffled over some guy prancing around. Take it from me: don't sweat the small stuff.

(Goes down to sleep. Jo averts his gaze to think over what he's been told, then fumes)

Jo: What was that about me being old?

Rick: Cuz you are.

Jo: (About to say something, but sighs instead) Whatever. Small stuff, right?

(Jo goes to bed grumbling, using the Force to put out the fire so everyone can sleep in total darkness)