Tag Archives: Hamlet

Traganek

“I am Traganek, fire-breathing dragon!” shouted the beast. Gregor’s eyebrows floated up a little. The beast turned to him. “Does that not convince?”

“It’s a little wooden.” Gregor stood up and began pacing up and down between the empty rows of seats. “You’re just saying the words. The audience needs to be afraid.”

Traganek fluttered his wings a little and pawed at the wooden stage.

“But it’s ridiculous,” said Traganek. “It is a parody of dragon personality, written by a fool who has never met one.”

“I know,” said Gregor, “and believe me, the audience is aware of that too, they’re not stupid. But your part is that of a terrifying spectacle…”

“…a pantomime villain…”

“…a terrifying spectacle,” insisted Gregor, “who breathes fire and eats people, and they need to feel terrified. As if you are going to swallow them whole right now.” He slumped back down in his chair. “This isn’t going to work. You’re better in romantic comedies. Let’s face it.” The dragon gaped, and his eyes puffed. “Your range is limited,” continued Gregor, “your ability to convey emotion pitiful. In Hamlet you were, at best, wistful.”

Traganek’s sudden thunderous snort reverberated over Gregor’s head, rattling the doors at the back. Rearing up on his hind legs until the horns on his head scraped the ceiling, Traganek’s enormous wingspan blotted out the spotlights. He roared: “Do not speak ill of my roles, mortal! I was nominated!”

“Alright!” yelled Gregor with delighted applause. “Alright Traganek! Do that!”

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