I'm a badass princess

A few hours later, the villagers watched him riding off in his fireproof suit, his oil and whisky in a cart behind him.

“Do you think he's really going to…”

“Surely not.”

“I mean the oil…”

“At least he's considerate.”

“At least he needs whisky.”

For the rest of the day, the villagers went about their chores in the shadow of the mountain where the dragon made her lair, trying not to think about what might be happening up there. At one point there was a sudden rise of smoke, as if a great fire had been lit. Followed by a draconic roar.

At the end of the day, the knight rode down again. The cart was empty. His suit was blackened. He looked exhausted, and was sheened with sweat.

“Job done,” he said as he got down from his horse.

The villagers stared.

“Poor girl is barely out of her first shed. Poor thing. Never been in heat before, didn't know what to do.”

The villagers kept staring.

“Should be alright now.”

The head man of the village felt like he should probably say something. “Are you… are you alright?”

The knight looked down at his suit. “This? Oh yeah, she sent out a few warning shots. Didn't like me getting too close to her lair.”

“So you…” the head man's sentence was cut off by another roar, and the sound of wings flapping overhead. The villagers ducked as one, the knight simply looked up, grinning.

“Olive oil and whisky, never fails.” He looked around at their confused faces. “See, normally the female is meant to build a fire herself to draw the males to her. She produces an oil from her cheek glands that lets them know she's in heat. Burning olive oil and whisky mixed smells the same— at least to a dragon— so you can use it in a pinch.” He pointed upwards. “That'll be the male.”

okay so I fucking love event planning and decorating and hosting and baking, aka all the elements of a banger birthday party. I am so freaking happy to throw people parties because it means I get to throw a party, then go to a party! yippee!

so my friend's birthday rolled around and I knew she wanted a party because I'd done them for her before, but I wanted to make it extra special because she was turning the big 25. so I did all the regular stuff I am So Excited About: had her roommates let me into her apartment while she was out, put up balloons and homemade garlands and streamers and table decor, made her favorite cake and snack plates and cocktails, ordered catering from a restaurant she loves, got a bunch of our friends to come over to surprise her, wrote her a disgustingly heartfelt card, etc. and then because it was the big quarter century, I was like I gotta do something extra.

now. I do not like clowns. my friend loves clowns. we've gone to the circus together and she's seen me literally close my eyes and hide when the clowns are out in the audience, meanwhile she's screaming and waving at them. so obviously I hired a clown for her birthday. (btw seeing him out of clown costume made me less freaked out because now I knew that the guy under there looks like someone's uncle.)

so she showed up after work totally expecting a party because I'm too paranoid to throw a real surprise party, and obviously loved it. and then I was like btw. there's a clown.

she lost her mind. she was sooo excited. she loved the party and she loved the clown. I was like haha yes I'm getting a good grade in birthday parties and didn't think much of it because frankly I do this a lot, and it's so much fun for me that I don't consider it work. like, I love doing all that for my friends. it's not any kind of sacrifice.

two days later, she texted me that she broke up with her boyfriend.

naturally I was like omg tell me everything I hated that guy let's get coffee. so we did and she told me that for her birthday, her boyfriend of nine months 1) forgot about it and didn't get her anything, 2) got mad at her for not texting him while she was at her party, 3) got mad at her for telling him about the party because it was "passive aggressive", and 4) called her immature and stupid for being excited about a clown at her birthday.

And let's not forget about

and here he made his first fatal error. his moment of hubristic sex pesting. because of course i know where the term blow job comes from, i love learning about sex and the history of sexual terms! i know so much about oral sex that i could write a book on it!