Get Stuffed

First of all, the dragon was not supposed to come to life. Last night, it had still been a palm-sized plushie which I had ceremoniously dubbed “Embersnoot.” Cute. Inert. Secondly, it most certainly was not supposed to be chewing on my dearly-departed grandmother’s quilt.

“What the fu—” I tumbled out of bed, legs still tangled in the sheets. The dragon squealed and tumbled off the opposite side, landing with a small thump out of sight. I sat there, hair in disarray, heart racing, mind scrambling for logic. If I didn’t move, maybe it wouldn’t be real. Last night, I chased down an extra taco with a glass of wine; perhaps this was a intoxicated-indigestion-induced delirium. A skittering, slithering sound threatened to dispel my optimism. I peered cautiously under the bed. A tiny pair of reflective, slit-pupiled eyes blinked back.

“Oh hell no,” I groaned. “This can’t be happening. I already have enough anxiety. And I kill house plants!” As if to express a profound disinterest for my personal failures, the dragon sneezed, emitting a shower of sparks that glowed under the bed. “You’re going to set my room on fire!” I lunged for it – or rather, him – and smacked my forehead on the bedframe. I yowled and clutched my head with watering eyes until something dry and scaly bumped my knee.

Through teary eyes, I saw Embersnoot peering up at me worriedly. Now that he was up close and not actively destroying anything, I marveled at his tiny scales. They shimmered the same soft maroon that his fuzz had been, and the felt talons were now ivory. I reached out and tentatively stroked the warm, smooth scales on top of his head. I caught a faint whiff of burnt cinnamon. “Wow,” I breathed. Embersnoot sneezed again and my pajamas caught fire. I yelped and quickly beat out the flame. “You’ve got to stop doing that!” He dropped his head and I sighed. It was like yelling at a fire-breathing puppy.

Across the room, my phone began to vibrate aggressively. I glanced at my watch. “Oh, shit!” I dove for my phone and saw my manager’s name on the screen. “Hey, I’m so sorry I’m late. I…” I trailed off as movement caught my eye. Left to his own devices, Embersnoot was now bobbing through the air on wings too small to obey the laws of physics. I tried to snatch him with one hand but only succeeded in knocking him further away, like a winged pinball. My manager’s insistent voice dragged my attention back. “What? Oh, yeah, I’m totally sick. I, uh—” I tracked the dragon’s progress around the room, “—no, I can’t keep anything down. Burns like hell. Sorry, TMI.” I hung up on my manager mid-sentence. Embersnoot fluttered to a landing on top of my bed looking quite pleased with himself.

“We have got to take you back where you came from. I have work. I have therapy. I have a life. I absolutely cannot be responsible for a literal dragon when I am fighting real battles.”

At the word “battles,” Embersnoot perked up. He sat up straight and drew in a deep breath that puffed out his chest.

“Don’t you dare!”

He froze, eyes wide, like a balloon about to burst. A wisp of smoke escaped one nostril.

“No. Fire.”

He deflated and his wings dropped.

“Okay, maybe outside. In a controlled environment. With water nearby.”

Forty-five strange minutes later, Embersnoot and I were ready to leave the house. It had taken me about half a second to decide that leaving him behind could only result in a cindery disaster. I learned a lot in those forty-five minutes though. Dragons do not like showers’ indoor rain is very suspicious. Dragons do like Cheerios; very tasty. Dragons especially love bacon; I can’t fault him there.

I stripped the shoelaces from a pair of sneakers and trussed up a little harness and leash. I shuddered to think of the chaos he might wreak if he escaped into the wilds of downtown. Plus, I was dubious about his ability to look after himself, despite his talons. There were squirrels larger than him.

Embersnoot curled up on the dashboard in the sun, looking for all the world like a very natural and not-at-all-alive hula girl alternative. Upon reaching the store where I’d bought the plush, I tucked him into my bag with strict instructions to stay still. “Mayhew’s Marvelous Mischellany” was written above the door in chipped blue paint.

A bell tinkled fealty as I pushed open the door and entered the dim shop. Musky incense burned on the front counter, mingled with the scent of fragrant wood and dusty books. Crystals and gemstones glinted on velvet cushions and in glass cases. The shelves were stuffed with dreamcatchers, carven figures, brass bells, teacups, and tarot cards with no discernable organization system. It looked just as charming and innocuous as it had three days ago, which I thought was rather misleading given its merchandise apparently had a propensity to breathe fire. A large leather-bound ledger lay unattended at the front desk.

“Hello?” I called out. My bag squirmed as a ruby snout poked out and sniffed at the air. “Stay in there,” I hissed. Embersnoot stuck his head fully out of the bag, squealed in delight, and scrambled out onto a nearby table. I caught a silver candlestick just before it toppled to the floor. Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I stepped in front of the table to block it from view. A pimply-faced teen stood before me wearing a blue polo and a nametag that read, “Hi, my name is.” There was no name.

“Welcome to Mayhew’s Marvelous Miscellany,” he droned, “where misplaced magic is practically priced. How can I help you?”

“Hi, I had a question about an item I purchased here recently. Is there a manager I could speak to?” Behind me, I heard a quiet clatter of ceramic and the thud of a scaly body hitting the floor.

“I’m sorry, the manager is unavailable right now. What is your question?”

“I was just wondering about your return policy? The item I bought is, uh, not as expected.”

To my utter dismay, the clerk pointed to the floor with a slightly raised eyebrow. “That item? Sorry, talismans are no longer returnable once they’re alive.”

I stared dumbfounded. “You mean this happens? Intentionally?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “You didn’t read the terms and conditions, did you?” He took in my blank look. “Do you have your receipt?”

I fished around in my bag and pulled a wadded scrap of paper from the crumby detritus. He motioned impatiently for me to hand it over and then smoothed it out on the edge of the desk.

“Yeah, you bought a Class T Talismanic Companion with Emotional Endearment Activation. Says it right there.” He pointed. “‘Once emotional endearment has been activated and talisman exhibits lifelike behaviors, the sale is final.’”

We both glanced at Embersnoot, who was indeed exhibiting the unfortunate behavior of munching on a very stale, dusty cookie.

“‘Talisman cannot be returned, refunded, or exchanged. Talisman can be reverted to its inert form if original purchaser revokes the emotional endearment and sacrifices their firstborn child. This must be done within twenty-four hours of activation.’ If he just woke up last night, then you should have until about midnight tonight.

“Sacrifice my what?” I was beginning to hyperventilate a bit now. Embersnoot trotted over and bumped against my ankle, and I absently picked him up and cradled him in my arm.

“I’m just kidding,” the clerk said dryly. “See, this is you should always read the fine print. No, you just have to feed it some cotton candy. It’s like stuffing; don’t overthink it.”

I still had doubts. “What about this emotional activation part? I just woke up and he was like this. I didn’t do anything.”

“Did you name it?”

“Well, yes. That’s all it took?”

He shrugged. “Any term of endearment. Just like a dog. You name it, it’s yours forever. Or not. Your choice.”

I looked at the dragon again, who fluttered up and landed on my shoulder with a small chirp.

“They get reverted all the time. No one wants to be responsible for a dragon. It won’t hurt it. All you have to do is renounce the name.”

My heart pinched painfully, probably last night’s taco come back to haunt me.

“Okay, well, thanks for your help.”

The clerk had already wandered away and was running a dustcloth ineffectively over the shelves. “Thank you for visiting Mayhew’s Marvellous Miscellany. And don’t forget to apply for an exotic pet license.” He vanished back into the shadows of the shop.

We set out for the grocery store. The sooner I could get the cotton candy, the sooner this bizarre day would be over and things would return to normal. Embersnoot thoroughly enjoyed the ride. He dashed from window to window until I almost wrecked the car trying to snatch him out of sight at a red light. I plopped him into a cupholder full of loose change, and I thought he would burst with excitement. When we pulled into the lot, I had a brief but deeply ethical debate about leaving him in the vehicle. Could a dragon of all things get overheated? Would he spontaneously combust? He settled the question for me by clambering back into my bag with a mouthful of coins. “Fine, but this time I mean it: stay hidden.” An affirmative chirp came from the depths of the bag.

I faced the building for a long moment. I dreaded going to the store in person and avoided it as much as possible. The noise, the lights, the people; it was stressful at the best of times, and I had to put a lot of energy into managing it. Embersnoot peered out of the top of the bag and nuzzled my hand. I stroked his head reflexively, enjoying the texture of the miniature scales. “Standing here won’t make this any easier.” I took a bracing breath and, glancing down, saw Embersnoot puff up his chest too. A small smile tugged at my mouth.

Inside the store was as bad as I’d feared; angry, indifferent, and self-absorbed customers hurried to and fro with complete disregard for any agenda but their own. But I kept my hand tucked inside my bag, running my fingers rhythmically over the curve of the dragon’s back. After a few minutes, faint vibrations emanated from his body, much like a cat’s purr. The soft scent of toasty cinnamon rose in the air and I breathed it in slowly and steadily.

As I browsed the candy aisle, an old lady entered the aisle from the opposite end. She had a chihuahua in the front of her cart. Both of them had small, squinty eyes, unnecessary diamond necklaces, and unnaturally pink hair. I never would’ve noticed any of this if the dog hadn’t taken a sudden and inconvenient interest in my bag.

As they drew near, the chihuahua began to sniff and bark shrilly, its entire body trembling with the aggression of a much larger predator. The old lady continued to peer nearsightedly at the Werther’s as though blissfully unaware of the raging pink rat six inches away. Within my bag, the purrs downshifted to a warning grumble. The scent of cinnamon sharpened into something tangy and burnt. I angled my body away and tried to sidle past the cast and its offending occupant. I was nearly in the clear when the chihuahua decided I was a satisfactory target and snapped its teeth at me.

Embersnoot launched out of my bag like a miniature meteor. He landed in the back of the cart snarling and spitting sparks. The dog lunged for him, but was caught up short by its leash tied to the handle. Thus stymied, it tripled its barking efforts, finally alerting its owner, and the surrounding counties, to the unusual circumstances. Her misty eyes squinted at the ball of indignant fury that was smoking slightly in her shopping cart, and then widened in horror.

“What is that thing?”

“It’s a hairless cat!” I shouted as I grabbed Embersnoot and bolted.

“You should keep your pets under control!” She called as I skidded out of the aisle.

I didn’t stop until I hit an empty corner of the store, somewhere between pet food and baby supplies. I slid to the floor with Embersnoot still clutched to my chest and waited for my heartrate to slow. I looked down at the dragon preening himself with obvious satisfaction, and burst out laughing. I laughed until my eyes watered and my sides ached. “Did you see the look on her face?” Embersnoot made a strange snorting chuffing sound and smoke puffed out of his nostrils. “I should’ve let you eat that poor, ugly, pink thing.”

My laughter eventually ran out of steam, and I slumped back against the shelves. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d laughed so hard. Or laughed at all. Managing life took up so much of my energy that there wasn’t much left for anything else. I’d only gone to Mayhew’s in the first place to find an item for an obligatory office gift exchange. The little stuffed dragon perched on top of a stack of vintage magazines had caught my eye. I picked it up, intending for it to be the gift, but it was just the right size and just the right weight in my palm. I thought perhaps it would be nice to get myself just a little something to make me smile in the midst of daily struggles. True, I hadn’t expected him to cause the problems, but I couldn’t deny that he’d made me smile despite them. I scratched Embersnoot between his front legs and he wiggled and purred. The murmurs of conversation a few aisles away brought me back to reality.

I eventually located the cotton candy up in the gauntlet of junk food at the check-out line. I grabbed two bags; one for each of us, a final snack together. I dug in my bag for the correct change, which Embersnoot helpfully spit into my hand. I tried to surreptitiously wipe away the dragon drool before passing it over to the unsuspecting cashier.

We made it through the parking lot with only a few more minor incidents. The chihuahua lady was putting her cart away and yelled at me to keep my cat on a leash. Embersnoot tried to chase down a crow with a cupcake. And he almost got run over trying to snatch a penny off the ground. The shoelace leash was a lifesaver. Eventually, I hustled him into the car and we headed home with our loot.

I made up a little feast for him with more Cheerios, bacon, and both colors of cotton candy. If he was only going to have one day of life, I wanted him to enjoy it as much as possible. The clerk’s words came back to me. They get reverted all the time. It won’t hurt it. How many times had he been reverted before? It wouldn’t hurt, though, I reassured myself. It wasn’t like he would know. Or would he? Did he remember every person that had brought him to life and then renounced it? Would he remember me?

“It won’t hurt.” Even as I said it, I felt another sharp stab in my heart and I couldn’t pretend this one was from ill-advised tacos. Embersnoot skittered across the table and bumped his nose against my hand, much like he had bumped my knee only this morning. “I can’t take care of a dragon. I can barely take care of myself!” I stuffed a wad of cotton candy in my mouth to stop myself from saying anything else. The sugar dissolved like magic on my tongue. Embersnoot climbed down into my lap and began to purr, as though I were the one in need of comfort.

“You are a menace to society. And dogs. And crows. And you’re a fire hazard.”

He chirped proudly.

“You probably aren’t housebroken and I have no idea how much you eat.” I stuffed more cotton candy into my mouth and held out a bite for him, which he munched happily. “The responsible thing to do would be to put you back. Where you can’t hurt anyone and I can’t mess up taking care of you. I remembered the warm weight of him curled up against my chest and the ache of long-absent laughter. I would never be able to smell cinnamon again without recalling our grocery expedition.

“Embersnoot, thank you for a lovely, if unconventional, day. It’s been an adventure. I’ve never enjoyed grocery shopping so much. And you’ll still be here in spirit. Or stuffing.”

He flicked out his tongue and licked the tip of my nose.

“Embersnoot, by the power vested in me by my own foolishness and apparent inattention to detail, I hereby re—” A knot leapt into my throat. “I hereby ren—”

He sneezed and a shower of sparks singed my shirt. I patted them out with a long-suffering sigh.

“Embersnoot, by the power vested in me, I hereby renounce your name if not your affection. You have fulfilled your task honorably.” I finally dissolved like the cotton candy. When my tears were spent, I held a soft, immobile dragon plushie in my hands.

The next day, as I drove to work, the plushie was nestled safely in the bottom of my bag, my talisman for the trials to come.