Please Send Dragons

Being the creative, whimsical, free-spirited soul that I am (by that I mean easily distracted as well as… [drifts off mid sentence]) I occasionally find myself bored, and then daydreaming, and then wishing for a dragon.

It’s a slippery slope.

I can remember countless times I’ve been sat in a school chapel, sports hall or meeting room, ears under attack from a unending drone on responsibility or rules or the emancipation of the proletariat (I probably should’ve listened to that one), and just thought,

‘Imagine if a dragon smashed its way in here now. That would spice things up.’

It works best when there’s a big window, the destruction of which is overwhelmingly pleasing to visualise. Rose windows in chapels are my favourite – sorry god, but a giant reptilian jaw gonna look so sweet smashing through one of those!

[My inner writing voice is telling me that tips for a great daydream are where this piece is headed (Tip #1, ‘Rose Windows’, I guess?), so…]

#2 ‘Vantage Point’. Pick a window a good distance from you. Unless you’re going to daringly tame and ride the dragon (respect) or slay it nobly (there best be maidens watching, else you’ve just wasted a dragon) you want to be at a safe (out of the way for the first few seconds) distance to chuckle as your fantasy comes true and that classmate/colleague/tennis coach you never really liked gets scooped up in the mighty beast’s jaws. If you’re going into an event with the expectation of being bored, at least the foresight might allow you to pick an optimum daydreaming spot (I always liked some elevation where possible, or a nice corner in an office).

#3 ‘Sly Grin/Wee Nod’. There are two purposes here. The first is to provide an intense feeling of satisfaction and generally ‘being cool’. To achieve this, imagine yourself giving the dragon (and the bodies of your currently-deceasing unliked colleagues) this combination: sly grin (because you’re far enough away to be safe, clever you) and a wee nod (a show of mutual respect between you, virtually a demi-god for being called Skylance, and this mythical beast). You can even do this dual-action in real life, because of the second purpose: feigning interest in whatever’s actually going on. Your boss, examiner, chaplain etc. will be thrilled.

There are, of course, obvious drawbacks to imagining dragons, which is why I will soon post about my excitement for the impending zombie apocalypse, my preferred option.

This seems like enough nonsense for one day (one week in fact, sorry I’ve been so quiet!). Have a great weekend!

P.S. As a little aside, I really admired and respected my school chaplain, who was a great man and to whom I mean no offence, but the subject matter just wasn’t my jam. Plus, rose windows!

The Cycle

[Happy Friday! Hope you’re having a great day and are excited for the weekend! I’m in a great mood, but here’s an angsty piece I wrote a few days back while reflecting on two recent reads, ‘1984’ and ‘Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?’. Hope it doesn’t dampen your spirits – have a wonderful weekend.]

bury your dreams in conformance
send all your hopes to the grave
seek only continued existence
give up those who cannot be saved

Work to fuel Spend to fuel Work
a cyclical landscape of greys
death: less an event than a process
overlaps life in a haze

Consume Allocation Required
Pay Homage Appropriately Due
Perform to your Median, Modal Ability
mean’s too much thinking
means too much thinking
don’t be
mean too much thinking
mean too much

–Herein the Unit was deemed DEFECTIVE and the Process TERMINATED.–

Death and Taxes

I’m sat, almost-dozing, at my bland, functional desk in my clean, straight-lined office, when the zombie outbreak starts. God knows how it started at a tax consultancy in Slough, but there you go. There must be something in the water.

Anyway, excitement – my colleagues are being eaten! Admittedly, this brand of excitement comes with a healthy dose of fear and gore, but still, it has been a slow day, so I’m not in a position to turn down excitement.

I did quite like Jo though. It was a shame she chose to wear such a nice dress because the blood splatters really ruin it. She chose to wear heels as well. That was pretty funny. Zombies cannot run in heels. Her ankle made a horrible snapping sound.

I don’t know where the original one went, the madman that burst through the office door, tore that manager guy (Richard?) to shreds and bit Jo. He may’ve jumped through the window trying to eat Sasha. I don’t blame him – Sasha’s gorgeous. I’d run around after her if it was socially acceptable.

Now Kevin’s doing a little dance around his desk with Jo, scurrying one way and the other as she tries to get to him and his precious brains. I consider telling her not to bother. I’m not sure Kevin’s particularly blessed in that department. Funny little man, Kevin. I’ll admit to a thin smile when Jo grabs him and pulls his arm off.


The arm lands on my desk. I stare at it, oozing thick, red blood. What a satisfying thud it made.


I start and look up. Kate, my manager, stands above me. I’m glad she’s still alive.

“End of play today, yeah?” she asks. I look at the arm. It is not an arm. It is a tax mitigation report for a client down the road. I look up at Kate, and back towards Kevin. Jo isn’t eating him. I can’t see either of them.

“Jo?” I stammer.

“She’s been let go,” Kate replies, as she pulls a pistol from her jacket and fires three shots behind me. I turn to see a blood-drenched Jo thud to the floor. “Death and taxes, John. Life’s two certainties – let’s keep it that way.”