Written 25 April, 2007
The following words were delivered to me over the telephone by my Sweetie. She is accepting e-mail at her secret eddress, firstname.lastname@example.org--Chey. (those are underlines offsetting "of")
(Creepy intro music with moaning and drums and background fades. The lights come up on Sweetie, lounging in an air-conditioned room in Second Life hell).
Hi, everyone. Sweetie here.
I just thought I should explain my prolonged and absolutely torturous absence from SL and my Chey girl.
Ok, here's the thing. You should never ever ever play a practical joke on a dragon.
They love practical jokes, and when they think it's their turn, somehow the joke always involves fire.
Usually it's a "look at the pretty lights," and water-dumped-on-your-head-while-you're-hypnotized sort of thing.
Or they crack themselves up and laugh and snort fire uncontrollably all over the place.
I forgot this aspect of Breath of God's nature.
I'm not mad. I started it.
See, we were hanging out at Breath of God's secret lair, having a laugh about our latest flight together. We had had a great night doing silly dragon and Sweetie dares with each other. Highlights of our evening included:
* Nearly being hit when a visitor to Pele was hurled bodily 150 meters up in the air by Chey's new wishing well.
* Circling every tacky castle we could find, taunting the owners and flaming their flags of residence.
* Inventing a truly inspired game, "Toast Their Bums." This involved low flights over couples having outdoor sex and, well, you can guess the rest.
BOG finds human sexuality amazingly ridiculous. It really cracks her up, so a lot of folks got the hot seat that night.
Giddy with laughter, talking over the night's fun, and planning future mischief, eventually I had to stumble out of BOG's hot spring. I told her I would be right back.
While I was out of the room, Breath of God had an idea.
She set the scene by roasting my little Apple G4 to a poker-hot glow.
When I returned, she quipped, "You'd better watch out, little one. Your love life in SL is so hot you're going to melt your computer."
Then, laughing at her own joke, she produced a storm of dragon laughter fire, and I was sent to digital damnation-- SL hell.
The next day I discovered dragon fire must have gone across the electric lines, because my router was dead and all the Internet was gone.
Now-- as you saw in the opening sentence, I'm making the most of SL hell. I got a room with a 15o00 BTU window air unit.
BOG has apologized profusely. And, being impervious to fire, she has proven herself an excellent smuggler. She has brought me all sorts of goodies.
I have air conditioning, and ice cream, and unlimited phone calls with my Chey.
But for Skype and Second Life, it's an enforced vacation.
And since my local computer store won't accept melted dragon gold in payment, for now I have to say I'm sorry, my friends, but I'm off the grid.
(Creepy music intensifies. Drums come to a sudden stop. Sweetie looks directly into the camera and says).
But I SHALL return.