Elan Musk Father of Dragons

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. There were Teslas packed with organic beach towels and newborn film and tv scripts. There were coffee shops with spoiled dogs and busy laptops. And transient tents like piñatas, spilling their insides out onto the sidewalks. Now the Teslas are packed with ash, the coffee shops darkly roasted, and the homeless crisis in Los Angeles has been solved. All since the arrival of The Valley Dragons. Hi, I’m Dragon Dame, you’re expert on everything Dragon!

>>> Would you like to know more?

A finger wearing a diamond speckled infinity ring and chipped blue nail polish clicks the green “Yes” button on the tablet screen.

The desert hills of the San Fernando Valley, lovingly referred to as “The Valley,” was home to 1.75 million when it became engulfed in the worlds second largest wild fire. The fire was started by Asotos, an unprovoked, projectile flaming Dragon and four of her hatchlings. 132,816 Valley Survivors made it to the safe-gates of Warner Bros. Studios, now lovingly referred to as “Warner World,” where real life heroes utilized 100,000 gallons of water from the iconic WB water tower to keep the surrounding flames at bay. Asotos and her kin retreated into the San Gabriel Mountains, where they remain three months later.

>>> Would you like to know more?

Click.

Who’s responsible for the Dragondemic? Entrepreneur and Aerospace Engineer, Elon Musk has taken responsibility for the reckless Jurassic Park-esque gamble, admitting, “Arrogance is both my sickness and my remedy.” Musk vowed to capture the five Valley Dragons and send them to outer space. But the Valley Survivors hope was cut short when Musk joined the many fallen in an attempt to make contact with the dragons. Drone captured footage shows Musk being “eaten” by his prodigal daughter, Asotos, much like a lioness that does not recognize her cub. He shoulda called Dragon Dame for back-up.

>>> Would you like to know more?

Click.

While examining a meteorite fragment, Musk discovered unclassified DNA similar to what we know as reptiles. With a combination of gene isolation and selective breeding with a saltwater crocodile, Musk turned fantasy into reality with the birth of Earth’s first Dragon. If he had asked Dragon Dame, I woulda told him to SpaceX the thing to Mars that instant. You can’t quarantine a dragon. And even if you could, like Jeff Goldblum said in an eerily similar predicament, “Life finds a way.”

>>> Would you like to know more?

Click.

Scientists around the world are rushing to engineer an “extinguisher vaccine,” to be added to the Los Angeles water supply, in hopes of sterilizing the Valley Dragon’s combustion gland, responsible for its fire breathing capabilities. Warner World is committed to bringing you on the hour updates regarding break throughs in the Musk Dragon Incident. If you would like information on how to join the Dragon Justice League, just ask one of our “Helpful Heroes” in orange flame retardant suits! On behalf of Dragon Dame and Warner World, we wish you a - -

“What a bunch of bollocks!” Emilia recoils in disgust and shoves the tablet in her Gucci backpack. The trademark metal G is melted into an eggy, runny mess over the monogramed leather.

“Can you believe this Warner World crap? It’s shameless!

“Shhh,” Danielle urges, “we could still get out of this mess.”

“Can you stop being an agent for one minute and smell the disaster capitalism! And Dragon Dame?!” Emilia scoffs.

“Mother of Dragons is so much better,” Danielle agrees.

“I don’t need damage control for my ego, Dani. They’re using the deaths of a million real people to promote their new super hero!

“It’s vile,” Danielle shakes her head.

“And I’m sorry, Jennifer Love Hewitt? She must have been the only one willing to wear that rancid, purple jumpsuit!

“Buuuut with ‘Last Christmas’ low box office, we just can’t afford to burn bridges with Warner right now,” Danielle gently reminds.

“Jesus, I don’t know whether to sack you or give you a raise. Still, I’m saying something to the heads.

“Leslie is not an easy man,” Danielle warns.

“I learned a pretend language for christ’s sake, I think I can handle a bloody studio exec.”

A 7 year old boy with eyes like a deranged cartoon character, plows through the perfectly manicured hedge, towards Emilia.

“It’s da mova of dragons!” He hollers.

“Shite,” Emilia mumbles, picking up the pace. Danielle intercepts the crazed kid, but he wiggles past her like De’Aaron Fox.

“Dale! Stop! Please!” A breathless mother yells emptily. She pretends to have some control over her son, as she frantically apologizes.

“I am so sorry, Miss Clarke. I can’t believe he recognized you. He’s a little fan. He even has a Daenaryes Targaryen costume. Dale LOVES dragons."

“Got your wish, ay chap?” Emilia ruffles his hair, a little rougher than necessary.

Dale’s eyes go googly again. His spaghetti legs whip towards an unmanned golf cart and mom is off to the races again. She stops for a brave moment, risking her demon child getting behind the wheel of a 14mph vehicle to call out, “You’re going to save us, Mother of Dragons!”

Emilia flinches. Humility and fury and fear fills her stomach with sick. Danielle notices the tiny droplets forming at the corners of Emilia’s eyes. An agent’s job is just as much to be a fighter for their clients as it is to be a friend. “It’s just something to believe in,” she consoles.

“It’s a SHOW, not a goddamn documentary!” I can’t save anyone!” Emilia lashes out, not caring where the whip cracks.

Sirens blare a “Cobalt Alert,” the new warning signal for Dragon sightings. A recorded message echoes on the speakers throughout the studio, slightly out of unison:

COBALT ALERT THIS IS NOT A TEST MAKE YOUR WAY TO BASEMENT LEVEL 4 RESPECT YOUR NEIGHBORS NO PUSHING OR TRAMPLING MESSAGE BROUGHT TO YOU BY WARNER WORLD

ALERT THIS IS NOT A TEST MAKE YOUR WAY TO BASEMENT LEVEL 4 RESPECT YOUR NEIGHBORS NO PUSHING OR TRAMPLING MESSAGE BROUGHT TO YOU BY WARNER WORLD

THIS IS NOT A TEST MAKE YOUR WAY TO BASEMENT LEVEL 4 RESPECT YOUR NEIGHBORS NO PUSHING OR TRAMPLING MESSAGE BROUGHT TO YOU BY WARNER WORLD

People push and trample towards the safety of the lobbies leading to the basement floors. Heat rolls through the mezzanine, like the unfurling of a stale Turkish carpet. Leaves wilt. Steam hazes up from the water fountains. The digital thermometers ticks up through the 90’s like a metronome to death. Dragons are on their way. Emilia and Danielle tag on to the end of the herd bottlenecking out through the fire proof glass of the lobby doors. The heat strobes, biting chunks out of time.

105 degrees: Punching and Pulling. Crying children passed through the cracks between bodies, drifting away from their parents. Emilia and Danielle are frantically patient.

106 degrees: People collapse their skeletons like rats to get through the doors.

107 degrees: Room for one more. Emilia burns her fingers on the metal G, unclasping her backpack. “Get inside,” she orders Danielle. Danielle hesitates, stunned and conflicted. Her life is a hundred thousand star-meters less valuable than Emilia Clark’s.

“No, you don’t have to die for me,” Emilia says, reading Danielle’s mind. She yanks a green, iridescent space suit looking thing from her bag and starts getting in. It’s more high tech than the other orange ones Danielle has seen.

"Where did you get that?!” Danielle demands.

Suited up, Emilia shrugs, “I’m still famous.” She palms Danielle’s face and shoves her into the group huddled behind the safety glass. The doors latch closed.

108 degrees: Emilia stands alone. Danielle’s betrayed expression turns to pity as the group takes a collective step back. Emilia’s heart drops…and she’s suddenly realizing the peripheral view inside this mask is shite!

Emilia flails her head around trying to get an angle on what all the somber drama is about. She turns back, throwing her hands up in puzzlement. Everyone has their phone out filming. Danielle grits her teeth and points up at the sky. The more Emilia tries to look up, the less she can see out of the cock-up of a mask. She keeps spinning around like a total arse. “Oh for cunt’s sake!” Then, in a divine combination of a 45 degree neck tilt, 1.57 radian head rotation, one hand pulling up at ther mask and the other pushing under the chin, Emilia is able to see what all the fuss is about. Asotos flies across the little window of her mask, descending at a speed that doesn’t award her the time to consider all the variations of how exactly she’s going to die. The talons on Asotos’ hind legs reach out towards Emilia, like a hawk reaching for its prey. Maybe there’s enough time to consider one variation...

This is, by textbook, when one’s life should flash before their eyes, but all Emilia can think is, how ironic. A carbonated contraction starts in her stomach and tap dances up to her chest. She’s laughing. She’s crying. It’s devastating and exhilarating. Her nose fills with snot, and snails down the back of her throat, giving her the unshakeable sensation of drowning. She leans into the steam bath swelling from the beat of Asotos’ muscular wings. “Fuck it,” she coughs, “I’m going to die comfortable.”

Emilia sheds the suit like old skin. Her shirt, and pants, and undergarments follow. One by one, they fly off of her and smack against the lobby windows. Danielle’s face is smooshed against the glass, watching through a pair of navy lace knickers.

Emilia drops down to her hands and knees, unable to fight the current preceding a landing dragon. She stares into the pavement, at each particle of cement, waiting for the prickling sensation of fire to flesh and the smell of her own burning skin.

14 tons of dragon splits the ground open like a watermelon, as it touches down before Emilia. How she wishes the crack would grow and she could crawl into it until this was all over…and come to think of it, why the bloody hell hasn’t it killed her yet!

Annoyed, Emilia rises slowly, and a little bashfully. She didn’t forseee being alive this long when she made the impulse decision to throw caution (and her clothes) to the wind.

“Daenarys eeez gonna ride the dragon!” Crazy eyed spaghetti boys cries from behind the glass.

Ripples cascade down Asotos’ neck as she lowers her face to meet Emilia’s. Emilia sees her reflection in the caramel speckled universe of the dragon’s benign eyes. Asotos belches, like God’s teakettle at boil. Its breath reminds her of the perfumes of New York City summer garbage. Something begins to materialize, deep in the dragon’s throat, a figure maybe, getting larger. It’s waving its hand, like it just made it back from the first successful trip to Mars. Emilia squints.

“Jammy dodger… it’s fookin’ Elon Musk.”

He bows. “I feel very bad for the whole dragon incident. I’ll fix it.”

Elon Musk beckons for Emilia to join him. Why the hell not, she reasons. Emilia wiggles back into her celebrity safety suit and joins him in Asotos’ mouth. The Breaker of Chains turns to the Valley People and…and shrugs. “I’ll be back?”Asotos pounds her wings upwards, somehow not breaking the sky. Danielle mimes a phone to her ear, call me. Emilia sends her a thumb up as she gets jack hammered into the clouds.

Danielle takes out her real phone and dials “Leslie-Warner Bros.”

“Leslie! It’s Danielle at CAA. Loooove you’re new girl, Dragon Damsel. I’m pitching a spin-off, it’s gonna be an Emmy MAGNET, and I’m giving you first dibs.” There’s some fuzzy mumbling on the other end.

Danielle smiles. It's called “Elon Musk, Father of Dragons.”