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HOW DEAN FLOOP BLAMED THE RECENT DEATHS OF ALL THOSE CADETS ON DR. TERRIBLE, WHICH RESULTED IN LAST NIGHT’S

DOCTOR VS. DEAN RAGEFEST OUT ON THE CAMPUS QUAD

On my way to the Dining Hall, I get Dr. Terrible and Dean Floop on the brain again.

I get them on, and I can’t get them off. Last night’s RageFest. The events which led to Dr. Terrible’s disappearance. I mean he just disappeared last night, so I guess it’s only natural for me to be thinking about him. Plus if I can figure out where my scaly green grandpa is hiding, then I can turn him in to Dean Floop. Anything to put the demented Dr. Terrible on hold, keep him from messing with me from afar. It’ll serve the scoundrel right for giving those giant horns to Trenx like that.

Now like I told you before, all seventeen of those poor cadets were ruthlessly executed by Dean Floop in just two days. And so by Thursday afternoon—which was just yesterday—Dean Floop and the Elders were considering shutting down Dr. Terrible’s Institute of Advanced Biokinetics and Neuroanatomy. As a kind of stopgap measure and public relations gesture all balled up in one.

So my grandpa was summoned to the campus quad yesterday evening for a Public Debate against Dean Floop to be held in front of the entire dragon cadet corps and the Council of the Elders. This is the event which would instantly become known all over the island as the Doctor vs. Dean RageFest.

Or just RageFest for short.

At the Public Debate Forum last night, all of us cadets stood in formation around the Debate Circle. And the Council of the Elders sat up high on their perches so they could watch the proceedings from on high. Then, before Dean Floop and my scaly grandpa even began debating each other, they paced around on their webbed feet and stalked each other with their massive leathery wings fully extended. They raised their spiked tails in Threat Displays and roared and blasted hideous flamestreams out their flared nostrils.

Now toward the end of the debate, my scaly green grandpa pointed his powerstaff at Dean Floop.

“This dragon is a complete buffoon!” bellowed Dr. Terrible. “And I submit to you that the Dean squats here before us today blowing firestreams straight out his poo-hole! How do I know this? Because no dragon’s scaly face could be this ugly! Nor could their beak make so little sense! So the Dean is speaking straight out of his poo-hole! I rest my case!”

All of us cadets standing in formation started snorting with laughter over Dr. Terrible’s poo-hole comment. Dr. Terrible was clearly outraged his name was being dragged into this whole sordid affair, because he’d had nothing to do with the deaths of any of those cadets.

Then my scaly grandpa turned to the Council of the Elders and pointed out that it was Dean Floop who’d stood as judge in each of those poor dragon cadets’ cases. And that it was Dean Floop who seemed just a wee bit firestream-happy.

A bunch of us cadets standing in formation shuffled our webbed feet and whisked our tails around.

“Hear, hear! Hear, hear!” we murmured.

And as Dean Floop stood there behind the podium watching and listening to Dr. Terrible’s rant, you could see the Dean’s eyes blooming red in their sockets. Then Dean Floop leapt up in front of the Council and raised his tail in a Threat Display and pointed an angry curved index claw at my scaly green grandpa.

“Let me remind everyone here,” roared Dean Floop, “that it was the sight of this dragon’s bizarre research experiments which caused those three cadet dragons to go insane in the first place! And so if it weren’t for Dr. Terrible’s Institute then none of us would even be in this mess right now! Therefore I suggest we shut his Institute down immediately! So, honorable members of the Council, I move we now take a vote! All in favor of shutting down Dr. Terrible’s Institute, say ‘aye’!”

“I’ve got your ‘aye’ right here, you scoundrel!” snarled my grandpa.

Then he opened his black beak and blasted a hideous flamestream, and the tip of the flamestream nicked Dean Floop’s left eye and left him blind. Now Dean Floop was bent over clutching his bloody scaly green face in his talons and shrieking. Though within hours Dean Floop would take to wearing a black patch over his eyeless socket and indeed seemed to relish his new fashion accessory.

Then my grandpa turned to address the crusty old dragon Elders up on their perches. “Members of the Council, my business here is finished!” roared Dr. Terrible. “Now if you wish to reach me I’ll be cooling my toe claws somewhere far away from this wailing buffoon. I bid you farewell!”

I was standing in formation along with all the other cadets and watched the debate unfold in real time. And I have to admit that seeing Dr. Terrible give his fiendish speech like that, well it definitely made me twitch my tail a couple times with pride. You couldn’t help but feel good about being related to the scaly green bastard.

Then my grandpa turned and stormed out of there, trailing a boss cloud of blacksmoke behind him. Now a few seconds later a WarWings detachment of Security Commando dragons was sent to fetch Dr. Terrible, but he had vanished.

He could not be found.

Not at his Institute nor anywhere else on the island.

The WarWings Security Forces, led by Rexro, deployed search parties in all directions and to all layers of the atmosphere: by air, land, and sea.

They sent an alert to all the slave colonies in the neighboring galaxies.

But nothing turned up.

My grandpa Dr. Terrible had simply vanished.

Now it is Crown Day and Dr. Terrible is gone. They had scoured his Institute and searched high and low, but Dr. Terrible was nowhere to be found. His personal laboratory out at the Institute’s grounds had disappeared as well, as if it’d been swallowed up into the ground.

The WarWings Council of the Elders had charged Dr. Terrible with treason for Rogue Attacks with Intent to Destroy WarWings’ Chain of Command, Thereby Endangering the Sanctity of Dragons Everywhere. And as soon as their security detail located Dr. Terrible, he was to be brought to stand trial before the Elders.

And here it is Crown Day and I’m trying like crazy to get Runcita Floop to be my Queen.

And I’m zooming toward the Dining Hall.

Because according to Trenx’s connections in Masters of Chaos, this is where I’ll find my Queen-to-Be, Runcita, munching on a bat sandwich.

Thwack-thwack.