Dying Words: Editorial Ass

Here's how it should look:

“Why?” she howled. “Why would you sell her?”

The finances of beauty aren’t something you can readily explain to a five year old.

“Sweetheart, you need to consider how stabling her will impact our lives. She’s fubsy. You can’t say she’s not. And she won’t exuviate another coat. That’s what the veterinarian said, and you know how much a dragon coat is worth.”

“Dad, I don’t care! I don’t…” she started, but then her face went adobe red. She held her breath for a moment and then she let it go. “No! Nooo! She’s my friend. You can’t let Cynthia go! Not…not ever!”

Sheesh.

I love my girl, but she might be a bit confused.

I run over 200 dragon on this tiny stretch of strata. But really, is it compossible for this aging beauty to live with all of the young fire-breathers?

Seriously. Give them time, they’d tear her apart.

Think about it. The jury’s really still out on ranching dragon. I’ve always thought it an olid conflagration, to speak the truth.

No, I’d like to take Cynthia into town and try to peddle her.

She’s been with us far too long to treat her like anything other than what she is: royalty.

We’ll hope to find a sire, and we’ll pray that she doesn’t feel bad about all of this.

I don’t consider myself a niddering idiot, but I fear that my periapt will not protect me from Cynthia.

Confession: God help me, but I needed the money.