The Mad Tales of a Dead Girl who May or May Not have at Least Eight Names: or, How to Dream about Dragons all Class and Still Get a Passing Grade

“Hey, sleepybutt! Wake up!”

The Dead Girl rubbed her eyes to shake off the bright lights and saw her hands were covered with ink. Snickering drifted across the room from one of the boys, the one holding a fat black sharpie in his hand, which he hid just as the tired teacher, who wasn’t really all that exciting except for the fact that he had Authority, so that made the teacher somebody, but not much of anybody, walked by.

“I tried to stop them, but, they were, you know… y’know,” the other girl, who probably didn’t even have one name, let alone eight, rolled her eyes at the other side of the room where Sharpie Boy was busy instigating. All of the stupid boys pretended to sleep and let their stupid tongues hang out, making stupid faces. The Dead Girl didn’t pay much attention, as they were currently a collective and she was always an individual. She had more power, more focus, and she could always be riding dragons while they were busy doing stupid things with stupid pens.

“You know, you probably should, y’know, write your essay? Maybe? Because we only have, y’know, 45 minutes until recess, and… Well… yea.” The Less Than or Equal To One Name Girl looked at the Dead Girl for a little while, but then stopped. Perhaps then she got to writing on her own paper, but the Dead Girl didn’t notice. The Dead Girl was busy closing her eyes and beginning dreaming about dragons again. The thing about dreaming about dragons is that dragons aren’t stupid and have all kinds of names, like Loong (those were the Chinese dragons that weren’t as cool cause they looked like fish and fish were gross, but they were still dragons, and that is cool) and Ryu (those were the Japanese dragons, and they also were like fish but they were also cool cause she saw a picture of one called Ryujin once at it looked really, really cool, I mean, really cool) and there were Wyverns too, and Nidhogg and the Ouroboros, and a whole lot of them from all over the world and they were so cool.

“Hey dumbface, you only have 20 minutes left.”

She opened her eyes to see the Collective of Stupids orchestrated by Sharpie Boy. “Hey, look, she’s so stupid it even says so on her face! Hahahaha,” the collective laughed. She tried to close her eyes, but the collective was getting super loud-and-in-and-on her face at this point, and it was getting really hard to dream up dragons.

She leaned over her desk and pretended to write, but really she was drawing a picture of the dragon on which she been dreaming. The Dead Girl had been dreaming about this dragon for three years maybe and she was really excited about it and she dreamed about it all the time and it was so cool like really no you don’t even get it -it’s awesome – but you can’t see it yet. It’s not finished! But she’s getting pretty close, so, maybe later. Or maybe if you ask her really nicely she’d tell you about it.

The Dead Girl might say, if someone asked (nobody did), that it was the great dragon. A classic dragon. A Smaug, or Fafnir, or St.-George-and-the-Dragon Dragon, with fire breathing and a huge tail and giant wings. And spikes too! And fangs! Big, long, pointy ones (and at this point the Dead Girl had forgotten all about the collective and was busy adding more fangs, bigger fangs, and wondered if she had brought her colored pencils today, and they forgot about her) and the dragon had a huge hoard of gold that he sat on, and he covered his whole chest in gold bits so that no stupid people with stupid arrows could shoot him, the Dead Girl made sure of that. In fact, she was so excited about it she laid her head down on her desk and closed her eyes and began dreaming of the dragon again, but this time in full Technicolor with all the special effects she could dream up (there was lots of fire, you couldn’t have a proper dragon without fire) and also backgrounds now and wars but always this dragon was the best and was winning and flew through the air breathing fire and beating up everything all the time.

“One minute left.”

The Authority woke her up this time, ringing a bell at the front of class. He drawled, and he was one of those people that was too young to drawl so it made you kind of sad when he drawled, but then you remembered you had an essay to write and you don’t even remember what you’re supposed to be writing about and you have a giant dragon drawn across all of your paper and you don’t have any space left. So the Dead Girl looked around and fumbled with her pencil and didn’t know what to do, so she did what any truly sensible person with at least eight names would do and hastily scribbled on the back, “I didn’t rite the essay and insted dreamed about dragons.” She then jumped out of her seat and rushed up to the table with the rest of the class, and pushed her paper underneath another one so that nobody could see it, just as any truly sensible person with at least eight names would do.

Tomorrow, the authority would give her an B- and say that she was “maybe a little too smart,” (which the Dead Girl didn’t really understand but she kind of liked anyway), “but in the future she should probably write the essays she was assigned”, but he really liked her dragon and had a book she would probably like after class about the first dragon and how it defeated one of the mightiest of heroes named Beowulf. This made the Dead Girl extremely happy and maybe the Authority did have a name, after all, or maybe two even, if he liked dragons. In fact, way far in the future, she would go on to dream about dragons for a very long time, and draw and write about dragons and all kinds of people with all kinds of names would like what she wrote and drew and dreamed, so much that the dragons went past dreams, and were also really cool, like, really.

But today, the Less Than Or Equal To One Name Girl was really mean maybe on accident but probably not really, but it was okay because dragons didn’t cry when people were mean to them. And the Stupid Collective took her lunch while she was dreaming about dragons on the swings, but it was okay cause dragons didn’t need to eat that often, they just needed to eat a lot every once in a while, so maybe when she got home her aunt would cook her up a whole sheep for a snack, or a few cows, or maybe a couple of villagers.

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