One thing that's difficult for a Catholic dragon living in the Mundane world is going to confession.

Don't get me wrong; it's not especially easy in Faerie, either, but at least there, most priests are somewhat familiar with my unique case, which spares me having to explain the theology of Catholic dragons. Or they're willing to trust that I know what God expects and just roll with it. the Faerie Church understands how to deal with other species.

You see, I'm immortal already. I can be severely inconvenienced, often painfully and for years on end, but I can't die. So my immortal soul is tied to my immortal body. You humans will live, die, do the whole Purgatory thing, ascend to heaven, and when it's time for the resurrection of the body, I'll be there with the bar-be-que all heated up and waiting.

So I'm Catholic by practice, and because our St. George's spell dictates that the better Catholic I am, the sooner I get back to my magnificent dragon self rather than this puny body and half-wit brain. (Comparatively speaking, of course. My IQ is still off the human charts.) Sacraments do work on me as well as on humans.

Of course, being a dragon, so what's a sin for you might not be one for me and visa-versa. What I consider marking of my territory, you'd consider vandalism; what's for me an reasonable gathering instinct, for you would be theft. Is it murder if I'm reeeeaaaly hungry and some tasty human comes by, especially if he decides to attack me or mine? In most cases, I default to the human convention, but there are times when it's a gray line.

Usually, I have one confessor, Fr. Rich. He knows me, so it's good. But when I have to go to Confession elsewhere, it's a little...odd. First, most Mundanes are not used to seeing a dragon in Church; there's always a chance of panic. I tried to cram myself behind the screen in the Confessional once. I think the sore neck was penance enough. Then there's trying to explain that breathing fire at the bad guys wasn't really the sin, so much as thinking it was funny.

It's no picnic for the priests either. How do you decide how many Hail Marys to give a drake who bit off someone's hand?

Good thing the Holy Spirit is guiding us both, but that doesn't mean it's easy.

Karina Fabian, our case transcriber, has had another one of our case stories accepted. This one is for Book of Tentacles by Sam's Dot Publishing.

This is the story of when Grace and I first met and defeated our first evil demon from the depths of Hell together. If Doc Oc and C'thulu ever had kids together, they'd look like him. We refer to him as "Octo'thulu." It fit.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship. (Me and Grace, not me and Octo'thulu.)

I'll let you know when it comes out.

Karina's still working on the DragonEye, PI novel, Live and Let Fly. Be sure to check out her progress on her Friday blogs.

I'm starting a new list: People I'd like to have for lunch--literally.

Top on my list is the atheist professor who gets his jollies by desecrating the Host:



Let me start with an explanation for you non-Catholics: the small wafer with nail in it is a Consecrated Host. That means that this piece of unleavened bread through the ceremony of Catholic Mass, has become in a real way the Body of Christ. It looks like a wafer, it tastes like a cracker, but for those who understand and believe, this is God offering Himself to them (us, since I'm Catholic) in a true form. For more about why we believe, click here.

But an atheist professor with a chip on his shoulder has made it his mission to insult that in the name of his own beliefs. (And atheism is as much a belief as faith.)

I'm not going to mention his name. He seems to thrive on the publicity. I can't imagine what else he intended by this little stunt. Let's look at this logically: Did he really think God would personally come down and smite him to make a point? Did he really think this is the first time the Host has been desecrated? Trust me, far worse has been done to smear the name of God. It doesn't make what he did right or even insignificant, but God can handle it.

Did he think he'd change anyone's mind? On the contrary, his blog is full of outraged Catholics writing about his action (with varying levels of taste); even more, however, are the number of folks who have GONE TO CHURCH to pray, to make reparations for him, and even to ask for his conversion. Can we say, "Backfire"?

Did this gain him popularity among his students and staff? I know a lot of people are calling for him to be fired, and justifiably so. Read Jimmy Akin's arguments. Even with the issue of whether the Host is God or "cracker" put aside, he went out of his way to insult the a significant percentage the population. "Question everything," he said, but the only thing in question is his professionalism.

This would never have happened in Faerie. There have been many times when the Body of Christ--in the Consecrated Host or in the lives of Church's members--have been desecrated, twisted and maligned. But never as a cheap publicity stunt.

I did find it interesting, however, that the worst thing he could think of was to put a nail through the Host, believing that by doing so, he might cause people to doubt their belief in the promises of Christ. Seems to me the Romans thought the same thing.

A couple of posts ago, I ended with "I'm not a carnival ride." I've had humans who think that because I walk on four legs, that I must enjoy giving rides. Ironically, the fact that I, unlike a mule, can say, "Get off my back," they feel challenged to talk me into it. That's why my ad says, "rides extra." And I mean a lot extra. Somehow, people think mini-humans are exempt from that. I got bugged about it a lot at church when I first arrived. However, the worst case I had was when we were in Florida babysitting a lot of Magicals for a Mensa convention. I dozed off on the hotel grounds for a couple of minutes and some human family plopped their toddler on my back. The worst of it was, when I told them to get the kid off my, they thought I was a prank ride--an animatronic creature there to startle the patrons. Obviously, they'd watched too many Leno shots of the prank photo booth.
It took Grace--and just a little magic--to convince them that I was a fairy creature and not a machine with some human faking my voice. By that time, the kid had messed his diaper on me, I'd grabbed him up by my tail, the mom was hitting me with her purse, and the water nymphs were throwing mud at the father. (Long story explained in detail in Magic, Mensa and Mayhem.)

Just another example that intelligence does not always mean common sense.


Astronomers have discovered another dwarf planet out past Neptune. They've given the designation of such large orbiting rocks "plutoids," and have named this one specifically after Makemake:

Quote::

The red methane-covered dwarf planet formerly known as 2005 FY9 or "Easterbunny" is named after a Polynesian creator of humanity and god of fertility. Reuters.com

Well, it just so happens Faerie does have a demigod Makemake, not the creator of Humanity, but he does specialize in fertility magic. I asked him what he thought about the Mundanes naming a planetoid after him:

"It's cold, barren and probably smells like rotten eggs--and they named it after me?!" I won't translate the rest, but needless to say, I'd recommend members of that particular committee of the International Astronomical Union not visit his islands for awhile.

I've been asked to tell you about my experiences with and opinions of kids. Sounds like good fodder for a few blogs, anyway.

Before my encounter with St. George, back when I had my full size and majesty, I thought of kids like some humans think of prairie dogs--cute to look at from a distance, as long as they stayed out of my yard. And I had a big yard.

I've mentioned the Pope's niece, I'm sure. Sweet kid, very smart. Treated me like a scaly cat. A pampered scaly cat, so that was fine. When a demon possessed her to get at her uncle, I was the first to notice. St. George dies exorcising that evil spirit. Very sad. She grew up to be a lovely lady, but she was never quite the same.

After that, I went elsewhere to work for the Church, but well, I was mostly working with priests and brothers. Not a lot of kids. Well, except that stint in the orphanage... Let's not talk about that today. I just ate.

So most of my experience has come from dealing with Mundane children. Mundane children who have had way too many years of seeing dragons on television and video games, thank you very much. Most seem to think I'm the most freaking cool thing they've ever seen--didn't say they were dumb--but they do have some interesting misconceptions. 'Course, Mundane adults do, too. Comes from watching the same shows and playing the same games.

I'll tell you more next week, but the short answer for this week is. "Get off my back, kid; I'm not a carnival ride."

NOTE: Contains spoilers of Season Four Ender.

Not too long ago, I became a Dr. Who fan, and through the magic of Torrent downloads, have been able to see the fourth season finale. In it, in the process of saving the universes (hey, that's familiar!), Donna Noble absorbs all the Doctor's knowledge. For a few phenomenal minutes in which she glories in her incredible wisdom, but of course, the human mind can't handle a Time Lord's knowledge. He wipes her memory, not only of his knowledge but of all her memories with him, and dumps her back with her family where she takes up her limited life as if nothing unusual had ever happened.

I know it's fiction and normally, I'm not one to get too tied up in the tragedies of mortals, but this one struck a cord. Being with the Doctor teaches brings out a lot of great qualities Donna didn't realize she had. Then, of course, she gets a taste of real greatness. And has it all taken from her.

Been there, done that, thanks to St. George. The only difference is, I remember what it's like to have the full glory of a dragon--the incredible knowledge, the strength, the magic--and I know I'll get it all back. Poor Donna not only doesn't get to remember, she doesn't even know she can be more than she is when he leaves her. Just a temp whose big events in life are gossiping with her friends and arguing with her mum.

Tell you what: I got the better deal.

Sometimes the mix of Faerie and Mundane takes an some unusual twists. Thought you might enjoy this one.

We were on a case and one of our suspects was hanging out in Fierce and Fae, an S&M club outside the city limits. Naturally, a nun would either stick out like a sore thumb or be a target, so I went alone.

I'll spare you the details of the place--kids might be reading this--but this human approached me, practically drooling at the site of me. Not that I minded; 'bout time some Mundane recognized my magnificence. Anyway, he says, "Please! Breathe fire on me. Slap me with your tail!"

Was this guy for real? I looked him over. He seemed sincere enough. "You'd actually enjoy that?"

"Oh, yes, great dragon, please!"

I sure wasn't going to hurt him--I'd lose major points with the Almighty. But he did call me "great dragon." And he did have a certain style in his groveling. Figured he deserved a little something.

I gave him my haughtiest look and told him, "No." Then I stalked past, flipping my tail. I purposely missed him.

I heard him whimper happily as he swooned.

Karina is hard at work writing Live and Let Fly, so Vern is taking Thursdays off.

Check out her blog for details on the Making of Live and Let Fly.

My article, "The Faerie Truth Behind the Fairy Tales" has been accepted for the anthology Mother Goose is Dead edited by Michele Acker and Kirk Dougal for DragonMoon Press.

In the meantime, this discussion about killing zombies has cropped up in the blogsphere. Anyone who's been reading my blog knows how I feel about zombies. If dragons can get the creeps, zombies will do it.

I've never really understood the allure of re-animating the dead. You end up with a decaying corpse with no frontal lobe activity whatsoever, which means they can handle one or two emotionally-based commands. (Usually, the bad guy is going for "Kill!" rather than "Cry like a momma's boy," but you never know. I've heard of another emotionally based command, but it's just too sick and wrong to mention here.)

So when it comes to killing a zombie, guns are about as effective as arrows, and even less effective than stone knives. Their vital organs are no longer vital, and their minds are on automatic, responding to the order placed in them by a spell. So forget the torso--it's their least weak area. For a shot to be effective, you'd have to either destroy the hind-brain or sever the brain from the spinal cord. In both cases, they'll have to have their back to you, in which case, the better idea is to run while you can and find a better weapon. (Depending on their state of decay, zombies are either stone deaf or can hardly hear over the squishing sounds of their own flesh.) You want to sever the limbs or decapitate them. Your Highlander movie had that right. ("When the head comes away from the neck, it's over.")

The best way to overcome a zombie is the old-fashioned slice-and-dice (no, the individual parts don't re-animate, unless you have some serious voodoo going on, in which case, shuffling corpses muttering "Brains! Brains!" is the least of your worries.) Grenades or explosive charges also work, but they're messy. Flame throwers work eventually, but they take longer to work. Zombies don't feel pain, after all, and they'll keep on shuffling until their limbs crumble to ash. Plus, it really stinks; take my word for it.

Other unique ways to take out zombies: big pits, smash them with heavy objects (something solid, they can't crawl out of), coax them into wet cement, spray them with acid (lots and lots of acid)... Anything that physically incapacitates the body.

If you have any unique ideas or questions, contact me I'll post them.