The fifth episode, wherein Daniel writes and discusses a story about an elderly woman named Philomena Tuttle, who may or may not see dragons, and makes his first plea for #FanArt.
Inspired by the phrase, “I’ve always believed in six impossible things before breakfast.”
STORY
Philomena Tuttle did not like to be surprised. Considering her age, this was understandable. Philomena wasn’t quite the young woman she used to be, though even then she hadn’t loved surprises. Philomena claimed that the secret to a long life lay in following strict routines and diligently avoiding the unexpected. For instance, she awoke at precisely 6:30 each morning to greet the new day, as well as the small troll people living beneath her bed. During her regularly scheduled flossing regimen, which lasted exactly 3 minutes, she would look out her bathroom window and remark on the color of today’s sky, always favoring a nice mint green, though this was rare. At 7:45 her breakfast was brought to her room by an orderly pushing a cart. This was the one place where Philomena allowed herself any deviation from day to day…
“Alright, I put on my lava-proof slippers; one. Remembered my trip to the moon next week and added “moon cheese” to my grocery list. Two, three. Oh, it’s pigeon feathers for clouds today. That’s a shame, the poor giant won’t get his nap. Still that makes five; only one more. Ah, I see we’re having omelettes. They served that last week. Of course, these look quite larger. Must be the dragon eggs they used. Perfect. Six. Just in time, I was getting peckish.”
After this ritual was complete, and never a moment sooner, Philomena sat down to eat her breakfast. While some days took longer than others, she never once allowed herself even a bite until she had finished the necessary list. “I’ve always believed in six impossible things before breakfast.” Philomena had said once. “That’s seemed the practical approach. Can’t be surprised if you’re expecting them already.” As we’ve already noted, Philomena did not like surprises.
Everyone at the Shady Rest Retirement home where Philomena lived understood her strange quirks. Many of the other residents were a bit odd themselves, or, at least, had become so over the years. They included several dignitaries and important figures; a few had even been public servants, highly regarded for their years of work. None of that mattered now, of course; those days were behind them. They all, including Philomena Tuttle, came to Shady Rest to enjoy their final years in peace, removed from the responsibilities of the outside world.
On occasion, however, the outside world came to them.
The morning began normally enough. Philomena had just reached item number 3 on her list, having concluded that yes, it was likely that the tennis balls on her walker were the miniature suns of their own solar systems, when she was interrupted by a knock at the door. She did not have to look at the clock to know that it was not 7:45. It was hardly even 7:40, and far too early for the orderly to be bringing her breakfast around. “Did they hire someone new?” thought Philomena. “I’ve told them I don’t like surprises. They should have let me know.”
Making her way to the door, Philomena kept wondering to herself, even as the knocking was repeated a second, and third, time. “Clearly this new person has no manners. I must speak with the administrator.” She had made up her mind to do just that, when the door burst open, nearly sending her to the floor, and two masked men with rather large guns forced their way into the room.
“Alright gran’ma, let’s get a move on. Today’s a big day, and we’d hate for you to miss it.” the second of the men said while the first took his position behind Philomena, prompting her to move with the barrel of his rifle
“Yeah, lady, it’s time for breakfast. How’s about we take you down to eat with your friends? We wouldn’t want’cha ge ttin’ lost on the way.”
It appeared that Philomena had no choice in the matter, as she was led, rather slowly by her captors standards, to the lobby of the home where the other residents, and most of the staff, were already gathered around dining tables, guarded closely by more armed goons. As she took a seat next to her friend Bill, one of the masked men standing near the front stepped forward and motioned for everyone to listen. Philomena nudged Bill, who had been dozing off, and he woke up with a snort, reaching to adjust his hearing aid.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the man spoke. “My dear elderly friends, do not worry, it is not our intent to harm any of you. You will all get through this safely, if you will only cooperate. Our wish is simply to keep you here for a short time, until certain demands are met. We understand that some of you are quite important, and we believe that your government will pay dearly to keep you from harm.”
“WHAT’S HE SAYING?” Bill shouted at Philomena. “I CAN’T HEAR A WORD. BLASTED THINGS NEVER WORK WHEN YOU NEED ‘EM TO.”
“It’s alright Bill,” Philomena replied calmly, “I’ve heard enough for the both of us. These kids here want to hold us hostage. Clearly their parents never taught them to respect their elders. I think it’s time they learned that lesson.”
Having said her piece, Philomena attempted, with a bit of difficulty, to stand. The thug nearest to her motioned with his gun for her to stay seated, but Philomena brushed this off as nothing. She wasn’t as young as she used to be, but she still had willpower aplenty. Philomena Tuttle wasn’t one to be intimidated, even in the midst of the surprising thing that happened next.
As Philomena rose, it was almost as though the room began to shake ever so slightly. The vibrations continued, getting more and more pronounced, until, when Philomena was standing, clutching her walker, the ground began to visibly quake. Pictures fell from their places on the walls, and the armed men rocked back and forth, trying to maintain their footing. A dull roar filled the common room, and several people noticed a thin layer of smoke seem to rise from the floor. The man who had been motioning to Philomena had forgotten her entirely, and was now casting his eyes nervously about the room.
With a crash, the front wall of Shady Rest Retirement home was wrenched from its position, as a dragon, large even by fantasy standards, pushed its head into view. At the same time, the violent shaking gave way to a deep, booming crack as a rocky chasm suddenly opened up in the carpet near the armed men’s leader. Tiny troll people scurried from it, swarming the hostage-takers and forcing them to their hands and knees as they were dragged toward the gaping hole. The dragon flicked its tongue, which also knocked several of the armed men into the abyss, and roared, apparently pleased with itself. This proved to be the last straw for the man standing near Philomena, who let out a shriek as he darted down the nearest hallway.
“WOW, I HEARD THAT ONE, PHIL! EVEN WITH THIS DARN THING! NICE DRAGON. THAT HOLE WAS NEW, WASN’T IT?” Bill chimed in.
“Yes, it was going to be number 5, before I was interrupted. The dragon was 6. She never gets her due, what with all of her eggs being stolen for omelettes. Ah yes, that reminds me: it’s time for breakfast, isn’t it? I think I’ll eat in my room today, if it’s not too much trouble. I’ve had enough surprises for one day.”
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