Caldera: "So, son... You write poetry."





Garble: [Looking nervous.] "Umm -- yeah."





Maximus: "And you hid this from everyone out of shame."





Garble: [Hangs head. Speaks in a quite voice.] "Yes."





Caldera: [Sounding angry.] "We have only one thing to say to you... Never be ashamed of your hobbies."





Garble and Spike: [Both look ready to collapse as they say:] "What?!?"





Caldera: "Take pride in your skill at the arts. For one thing it saved the next generation of our species."





Maximus: "Besides, poetry is an ancient and honorable dragon custom. Haven't you ever heard the older dragons reciting 'The Epic of Glaurung the Golden'?"





Spike: "Huh? Celestia told me he was the dragon who ransacked half of Equestria eight centuries ago, roaring all the while!" [Falls silent as both Caldera and Maximus glare at him.]





Caldera: "He was not 'roaring'! He was reciting his epic! Leveling those nasty little pony towns was just his way of recharging the creative muse. Normal for dragons."





Garble: [Excited.] "You mean my desire to destroy and my desire to create beautiful works of art are both normal?"





Maximus: "Of course. Oh yes," [turns muzzle to hide from Caldera the wink he gives his son] "Dragon poets have this reputation for drawing all the lonely dragonesses to their lair. So, uh, don't do that." [Lowers voice] "Not until you have your own cave where your mother can't see what you do."





Garble: [Looks delighted as he imagines dozens of dragonesses keeping him company.]





Spike: [Horrified] "I think I've just envisioned the end of Equestria."

