Paxley Express

Paxley Express or: How to Train Your Dragon(not to eat your customers)

by Darin A. Lester

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Traffic has always been a problem, but dragons... The whole dragon thing was relatively new. In a lot of ways, my life is roughly the same, in others, violently different. I was a courier then, and I remain a courier now. I've just traded out my sturdy street bike for a tough as nails and ornery dragon named Paxley. I used to live in a real crap apartment, but now because of the check I get each month from the government, I live in a larger loft with a giant door that opens up directly to the outside world. It's still a crap apartment, but it has much higher ceilings than my last one, for sure.

My job hasn't really changed all that much, either. On top of having my own courier service, I did a lot of food deliveries and whatnot. Also, getting stuff from like the drug store or the liquor store. You know, that kind of thing, and I still do. I never did any ride-share stuff back then, having only the bike, and there's no way I'm doing that kind of shit now. Do you know how much the insurance is for that kind of gig? How much your premium goes up if a customer falls off of your dragon? It's crazy! Even with the extra money people will throw at you for rides, it's just not worth it.  

Back then, I would occasionally, but not often, get some certain things from people who needed to get rid of it and bring it to people who wanted it. But not often, I swear. And no hard stuff. Just the fun things we aren't allowed to have because Big Pharma owns as many politicians as it does patents for life saving drugs. Okay fine, and maybe some weapons. But only small ones! Mainly. And only to people I know and trust. Mostly. Although, now that it's me and Paxley, I can definitely carry around some larger ordinance. Not that I do. Often. And none of that new weird shit that's been popping up since the dragons arrived. I may be reckless and stupid, but I'm not that reckless and stupid. Plus, I don't think Paxley would fly for that, bonded or not. Ha! Fly for that. Dragons puns.

Anyway, traffic. Man, I am really glad that I'm up here, and not down there, because it is really plugged up right now. Up here, I still need to keep my head on a swivel, but there just aren't enough of us to clog up the airways. Cool, and it looks like no one's using the landing pad on top of Dun's Cafe. Paxley pulls up short and gives a few flaps to slow himself on his descent, cleaning any debris off of the roof. You're very welcome, John Dun. Also, he did scare the holy hell out of the chickens that were hanging out in their little coops. Sorry about that, John Dun.

I hopped off of Paxley as he settled down and coiled his long tail around him, so that it wouldn't hang off of the roof, and headed towards the stairs.

"It's just two orders, so I should be right back up. Hang tight."

Paxley craned his head and neck around, somewhat blocking my path, glaring into the chicken coops. I know what is coming next.

"These small fat birds. I want to eat them." He turned his head and looked at me, his eyes level with mine.

"I know you do, Big Guy, but you know we shouldn't, right?"

Paxley closed his eyes and seemed to center himself, he then sighed.

"I know I should not eat them. I will not eat them." After he finished, he turned to look at the chickens again. "But I do want to eat them."

"I believe you. I'll be right back, okay." I patted his long neck as I headed to the stairs that lead to the cafe. Paxley's neck, and probably whole body, tensed up immediately at my touch, but calmed down almost as fast. We've talked about it many times, but where he comes from, the way he's lived, there really wasn't any sort of casual or affectionate touching. If something was touching you not by accident, it's intention is either to kill, or to mate. We have come to an understanding that it is unlikely that I will ever try either of those. Especially since no matter which one I would try, it would certainly, and hopefully, result in my death.

I bound down the stairs, my large boots making probably as much noise as my 1,000 plus pound dragon did when he landed, and headed towards the back entrance to Dun's Cafe. My gloved hand wasn't even on the door before John, the owner and operator of the cafe, and seriously all around sweetheart, opened the door for me. He stood there, holding the door in one hand, and two large bags in the other.

"Isaac! How good to see you! Or should I say..." I mouthed the words I had heard from him many times before. "How good to hear you!" It was hard to take that as an actual criticism when he has such a warm smile on his face. With his arms wide open like that, I took the opportunity and stole a quick hug. I am not a tall man, even in these big 'ol boots, and still I tower over John. Try as I might, I have trouble recalling a time where John was taller than me, and I have known him my whole life. He let the door close and wrapped his tiny, food laden-ed arms around me and gave me a little squeeze.

"It's always good to see you too, John."

"Are we going to get any work done around here, or is this restaurant's new source of income hugging?"

I was already laughing when I turned to see Dennis standing sternly, filling out the door frame he was in. As much as I was taller than John, his son Dennis was taller than me by an even larger amount. He tried, but couldn't keep that hard look on his face, and it cracked into a smile and a chuckle.

"You're just jealous, Dennis, and you know it." I released his tiny father and clasped hands with him and we went in for the bro shoulder hug thing. I meant that, just now, but a better description would be his giant ham like hand enveloped mine and then, similarly, his massive shoulder enveloped my face.

As if remembering that he was supposed to be upset, Dennis broke the hug and put his big meaty paws on my shoulders, making me look at him.

"I heard you've been making some deliveries down in the West Side. The non-food kind of deliveries. You know that's the Stone's territory."

"Non-food? What are we talking about here? Toiletries? Deodorant?"

"You think this is funny?" Dennis said, clearly not amused.

"I think I'm funny." I said with a shrug. It was harder for him to not laugh at that. "Dennis, I get it, but it was just a couple of drop offs. A little sap, some coffee breaks. No big deal."

"No big deal? Do you think the Stones would think that? Or, you know, the police?" He took his hands off my shoulders and I immediately stood up a little taller, no longer burdened by the weight. I didn't stand up completely straight, though. I would hate to undo this growing curve in my spine that I've been working so hard on. "Isaac, you know you've got an even bigger target on your back now that you're riding that thing around."

"Hey. He has a name." I said a little sharper than I would have liked, but that was just more me coming out without holding back.

"Yeah, he does. One that you will never be able to pronounce." Dennis said, his energy matching mine. He stopped for a moment, his features softening. "Listen, you know that I am worried about you? That we are just worried about you, right?" He looked over to where his father John had been standing, but he had receded from the conversation so efficiently that he was now more or less hiding in the light shadows that formed in the corner of the kitchen, hoping if he didn't move, we wouldn't see him.

If John had wanted us to stop our little argument, then he used the best tools he had, that being an incredibly adorable and tiny elderly Chinese man. And damn if it didn't work like a charm. Dennis and I looked at each other and started laughing.

"It's okay, Pop. You know Isaac and I are always going to tell each other how we feel, and right now I just feel like he's being a little shit. Right, Isaac?"

"Guilty as charged. But hey..." I clapped him on the shoulder and slid out of arm's reach, hopefully. "I gotta be me."

At this point, John had come back into the light, and I placed my hand on his shoulder.

"I should really get going guys, if I take any longer, "That Thing" up there is going to eat all of your chickens." I did an exaggerated motion to the roof with my thumb when I said "That Thing" and looked right at Dennis. "But we should do dinner or something sometime soon, alright?

Dennis smiled and nodded, but John moved past me without handing over his delivery orders, to one of his counters and grabbed another bag.

"You boys hungry?"

"Oh John, you know Paxley. He doesn't have to eat for a few more days, but he's always hungry."

John handed over the bag orders and poked me in my stomach, making me shudder a little.

"I wasn't just talking about the dragon, Isaac. Look at you! Everytime I see you, I swear you're thinner and thinner. I think I just poked your spine from the front!" He looked from my disrespected abdomen to my face. I was uncomfortable with this kind of attention. "At least try to put on a little muscle, would you? How are you ever going to find a wife like this? No one wants to date a mic stand with silly hair and goggles, and boots that are three sizes too big!"

"What the hell?!" I looked at Dennis. "I think I liked it more when you were going over my questionable legal decisions."

Dennis came over and wrapped one of his tree limbs around his father's shoulders and gently pulled him away from the door, where I had just had an unhealthy portion of my dignity torn from me. And honestly, it's not like I had a ton left.

"It's alright, Pop. Let's let the goofy stickman go and deliver our food so he can think about what he's done."

Dennis grabbed the remaining bag from his father and handed it over to me, and gave me a small clap on the shoulder. It was enough to get me moving out the door, but it was still a relatively light clap, considering what he is capable of.

I thanked the two of them and bounded up the stairs, making sure to be even louder than I was going down. When I arrived at the top, I saw Paxley, relaxed with his head on the ground, looking longingly into the chicken coop. And they were staring right back at him. When I stepped out onto the roof, one of the chickens looked at me, and even though I couldn't hear his thoughts like I can with Paxley, I knew exactly what he was thinking.

"What the hell took you so long?!"

Paxley raised his head up off the floor and looked at me. Some facial expressions are hard to read off of his face, but the connection between us told me that he was happy to see me. Or, at least, his version of happy. I hadn't really noticed it, but I could now tell that he had been paying attention to what I was doing down there. Or, more appropriately, what I had been feeling.

"There's so much warmth for you here. This place feels more like home for you than where we sleep, doesn't it?"

I half smiled.

"Yeah, sometimes it really does. Plus..." I held up one of the bags. "They gave us a bunch of fried chicken!"

Paxley's neck tightened up a bit, and he did the closest thing to a gasp that I think he can do.

"See, it pays to not eat these little birds up here, doesn't it? Plus, this is going to taste so much better."

"They do, but they don't move around when I tear into them." I shudder when he says that. "Could you maybe move them around a bit when we eat? Just so it feels like it's alive?" Paxley looked at me, and his eyes softened a bit with his request.

I placed my hand on his neck, right behind his head.

"Paxley, I am sorry, but I'm going to say the same thing I always say when you ask this. I am never going to do that for you, alright? But I promise that there aren't many things I am unwilling to do for you. For us. Okay?"

Paxley... nodded? It's hard to describe what that motion looks like on a dragon, but it's one he definitely picked up from our time together. He straightened his hind legs, raising his back haunch where our storage bags were so I could load up our deliveries and the dinner that the Duns were nice enough to give us. I then swung my leg over my saddle and snapped my big boots into the stirrups. Paxley was already starting to get ready to take off when I patted the base of his neck in front of my saddle. He could feel when I was in and ready. When I was safe.

I held on tight to the horn of the saddle as Paxley took flight. It is a feeling that I have never gotten tired of, and I can't imagine I ever will. I was thinking about the direction we needed to go for our first delivery, so Paxley already knew where we were headed. But instead of taking off that way, he hovered around the side of the building, and to the front. There, I could see on the ground floor the entrance to Dun's Cafe, lit up, with people going in and out. This place has been around forever, and the people of this community really do love it. And above Dun's Cafe, sat an unoccupied office. The office where my dad opened his Law Practice. The office where I spent a lot of my childhood. Paxley and I don't really talk about it, but I can't hide what I'm feeling from him on a good day, let alone a bad one.

He hovered there for a little bit, a few heartbeats, and then headed off in the direction of our first order. As we headed out, I took one last look behind me.

Paxley may not be from here, or even have a very good handle on how our emotions or attachments work, but he is very right about one thing.

This place sure feels like home.

I looked ahead, pulled down my goggles and tugged up my face cover/scarf thing and noticed I missed a message from Fig, one of my less legal contacts.  I read the message across my goggles as Paxley took off.

"I've got some good people on the West Side who have plenty of hands, but not nearly enough arms. Can you help me help these poor souls?'

Hmmmm... Something to think about while we enjoy our delicious chicken dinner.