John gingerly attempted to lift Carrie off the page. At first he thought it was his clumsy fur-covered paws, but he couldn’t get a grip on her. He franticly snatched at Carrie around her edges. “She's stuck to the page! I can’t get her loose!”
The dragon leaned in closer to get a better look. “Oi, I ken the problem. She’s ‘stuck’.”
“What do you mean, stuck?” John wailed. “You mean she has to stay flattened like that forever? I thought nothing was permanent here.”
“Nay, I mean ‘stuck’, like she’s stuck in the book under the heading ‘Stuck’. See, it’s on the same page as ‘Squashed’.” A sharp talon pierced the paper as she pointed to the heading down in the corner. “Should o’ used me reading glasses before, I guess.” She rubbed Carrie slightly. “She’s stuck on there tight alright. Nay thicker than the printing on the page.”
The color would have drained from John’s face if it wasn’t fur. “What do we do – take her down to the restoration center?”
“Now calm down, Johnny. Let’s consult the book first. It’s a guide book, in’it?”
John agreed meekly.
“Good. Now remember which page she’s on,” the dragon instructed as she slammed the book shut and started paging in from the back.
“What are you looking for now?”
“Why, ‘Unstuck’, o’ course.” She pointed triumphantly into the book, tearing another small hole. “Aye, here it is. Lots of handy tips in this write-up.” She mumbled as she read to herself. “Let’s see – stuck in cement, stuck in o’ pipe, stuck in a low paying job - here we be – stuck in a book. … Cor!”
“’Cor’? What does that mean?” John asked hesitantly. “Is that good?”
“Ye ever hear someone ‘Cor’ and be happy about it,” she snapped. “Cor! Stuck as an illustration. That be a tougher chestnut to crack.”
John wrung his paws. “What do we do? What do we do?”
“Calm yerself, Johnny. The book had a couple o’ tips we can try. An if those don’t work I have a few ideas of me own.”
“We should just take Carrie to the restoration center,” he moaned.
The dragon glared at him. “There’s extra charge if ye get restored more than your allotted number o’ times per day, and I ain’t paying.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Aye, it’s like insurance,” she explained. “Now be a good lad and get me the bathroom plunger from the hall.”
“It’s in a glass cabinet next to the glass cabinet the fire extinguisher’s in,” she continued at his blank stare.
“Isn’t that an unusual place to keep a plunger,” he asked.
“Boyo, this is world full o’ toons. We didna want to use the dirty ones from the bathroom on each other.” She rammed the plunger’s cup down on Carrie, squeezing the air out until it was nearly flat. “We got class here afterall.” After five minutes of working the plunger vigorously up and down, she peeled it off.
“Any luck?” John asked, nervously rocking from one hind paw to the other.
“Nay, if anything she’s a little flatter. Let’s try inflating her off the page instead.” She phoned the front desk and shouted, “ I NEED A BELLOWS.”
A moment later, there was a knock on the door. A bellboy was seated at a drum set in the hallway. “SOUNDS LIKE YOU HAVE A PRETTY GOOD BELLOW ALREADY,” he hollered, hitting a rim shot.
The dragon slammed the door. “Lor, I hate them one shot gags.” She rubbed her stomach. “You better try inflating her. I been having a tummy ache lately. One bad belch and she’s scorched.”
John brought his muzzle down to his wife on the page. “She’s so tiny, I can’t see her over the fur.”
“I’ll guide ye down. Left … right … the other right … that‘s good. Now drop and try blowing her up.”
John puffed and wheezed a few times. “Well?”
The dragon waved him off. “Nay, first time ye blew into her ear, and then her eye. I don’t think ye got any air into her at all.”
“We tried sucking and we tried blowing. Can we take her to the restoration center now?” he asked hopefully.
The dragon idly scratched her scaly chin. “We could try rubbin’ her out,” she proposed.
“What?! With an eraser? There won’t be anything left but some crumbs.”
“Nay. I mean we tried unstickin’ ‘er front and back, so try rubbin’ ‘er side to side. She might peel off like an address label coming off a package in the mailman's van.”
John rubbed Carrie with short, jerky motions.
“Try wetting yer fingertips,” the dragon suggested. “Ye get a better grip.”
“My paw’s all furry. I’m just making a slippery, soggy mess.” John complained. “And I haven’t even gotten to Carrie yet.”
“You’re right. Maybe I should try,” the dragon said. She rubbed a few times. “She’s not coming loose. I need to get her a wee bit wetter.” She licked Carrie with her long , rough tongue, feeling something slide on the page.
John would have bust out laughing at the dragon staring cross-eyed at her tongue hanging out of her mouth, except for the sight of Carrie stuck to it. “What do we do now?” he asked nervously.
“I non’t no,” she mumbled, trying to keep her tongue out of her mouth. “Nut nurry – Ni fleele a ‘urp clomin’ on.*”
*”I don’t know,” she mumbled, trying to keep her tongue out of her mouth. “But hurry – I feel a burp coming on.”