Cuddling a Komodo

“Honestly, how can they get away with this!? Five days! Five days, to fix the fucking heater, in the middle of winter!?”

Before this week, you saw no issue with having a Komodo dragon as a roommate. Honesty, venomous bites, unpredictable behaviour, size and strength eclipsing that of a human… all that stuff didn’t concern you at all.

Now, what might have made you take pause was being told that a Komodo dragon, if stuck in a house without working heating in the middle of winter, would become almost insufferably moody.

Kevin was clutching the tip of his heating rock over in the corner of the room and continuing his incessant whinging. That ordinarily imposing reptile–with his hefty yet toned frame, accompanied by a bulky tail almost as long as the rest of him–was now reduced to grovelling around his synthetic stone.

Like most of his species, the majority of his scales were a dull, sandy grey, but he took particular pride in how his upper head and four limbs were discoloured to the others. Those shined a deep bluish-black, though faint splotches of his lighter colouration could be seen in the cracks separating each of those dark scales.

Earlier today, you had joked that the bluish-black on his face and extremities looked a bit like the start of frostbite. He didn’t seem to appreciate that one…

You don’t understand what the problem is, though. You had bought him a high-quality heat rock and the highest strength UV light you could find. That lamp had been running full blast over his back for the entire day. In fact, your electricity bill would probably be higher than simply having a portable heater running non-stop.

“Ugh, seriously, could you just try calling them again?” He turns his head to the side to peer at you. “You weren’t trying hard enough! Try something like, ‘there’s a really mad Komodo dragon who might kill me if you don’t come over and fix the fucking heater!'” The burnt orange contours of his visible eye, encircling his enlarged, pitch-black pupil, convey a rather menacing glare. At least, more menacing than usual.

You can only sigh after hearing that request for the tenth time today. “I think if I make another call, they might not come at all.”

While it is unpleasantly cold, it was nothing that thick socks, an extra layer, and a loose hoodie can’t fix–at least, for you. Sure, Komodo dragons are cold-blooded, so insulating them in clothing wouldn’t work to warm them up, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t benefit from having something thick protecting their scales from the biting cold.

“Anyway, it feels like a sauna over there,” you say, returning your attention to your phone. “What are you complaining about?”

He hisses in response. “Oh yeah, because I fucking love having to hug this stupid rock for the entire day.” He looks up and taps a sharp claw against the bulb of the lamp. “And was this really the strongest you could find? I said I would pay you back…”

“All they had.”

“I swear, they make these things for tiny geckos or some shit. All well and good if you’re a small fry, but god help you if you’re 7 foot!”

“Give it a rest…” All day. All fucking day had been filled with the sound of him complaining. “It’s 9 pm. What do you need the heat for this late, anyway?”

Another huff of frustration from him. “I’d rather not freeze to death tonight, thanks. Oh, and I’m REALLY looking forward to having to hump this dumb rock tomorrow as well.”

He’s been complaining about last night for the entire day as well–about how he couldn’t get a wink of sleep because he was shivering from the cold the whole night. So not only is he irritated by the temperature, but he’s also cranky from lack of sleep.

You can sympathise somewhat. It’s obviously not an enjoyable experience for him. Still, what more could either of you do? Sometimes, you just have to grin and bear it.

He wasn’t doing much grinning, though; his maw had been transfixed into a permanent scowl.

You sigh and say, “Look Kev, I’m just going to go to bed early tonight.” You rise from the couch and stretch your arms upwards as if to emphasise the ‘I’m sleepy’ point. “Just promise me you’ll turn this thing off before you go to bed? Oh, and don’t actually sleep under it. The warning booklet said–“

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck, getting roasted alive might be a better alternative to having to deal with this for the next five days…”

You couldn’t agree more. He continues to grumble–both to you and himself–as you head to your bedroom. You guess you can look forward to another five days of having to deal with his attitude…