the Lexicon dragon
“You really ought to treat sarcasm kindly, dear; you never know when you might need it.”
“It’s obviously lost on you,” I grumbled sotto voce.
“Wasn’t that the word you wanted, dear?” The confusion was so plain on my face even a blind man could read it without the help of Braille.
“The word you just used in your head; so to voice. I have no idea what it means, but it stands to reason that it must be the word you have lost,” she said sounding so reasonable that I was pulled down the rabbit hole. For a few seconds I came face to face with a gun slinging Alice.
“Howdy pardner, This here’s my dream, kindly get on yer horse and ride into the sunset. I don’t fancy a shoot out at high noon.” She clicked her spurs and moseyed on outa there. I shook my head and the illusion vanished.
“Trying to replace me, dear?” Angry heat was coming off her in waves and I was certainly not going to be the one who started the countdown.
“Of course not, don’t be silly,” I said placatingly. She ignored me and riffled through the file cabinet that made up my memories. It was not a gentle process; she was punishing me for allowing the cowboy to resurface. Files were pouring out of my ears like a million tiny concertinas.
“You’re muddling my mind,” I complained loudly.
“No more than it usually is, dear.”
“You better be filing those alphabetically and in chronological order,” said the obsessive compulsive voice, rearing its ugly head. She was a strict keeper of the files, much like your normal librarian. In my wonderful mind she was known as the Lexicon Dragon; the protector of words and phrases. She literally had an ugly, knobbly head, which was why she loved to raise it, but I loved her warts and all.
“Lexi, dear don’t get your panties in a knot; you will just struggle to get them off later. For the life of me I cannot imagine getting those huge legs through the conventional two panty holes. I am merely looking for the word our poor writer seems to have lost. It might look like chaos now but order will be restored,” answered the Muse.
I struggled to deal with the pain of having my memories yanked out and scrutinised. I watched them as they lay like wilted doves on the cold floor. I wanted to hug them and keep them warm but the Muse was bustling through them; leaving heavy footprints all over their delicate bodies.