THE DRAGON AWAKES
The farce of the everyday pain of existence nipped and tugged at the Dragon’s feet all night long. Mutton and sheep’s faces crazily engraved on stamps from Egypt sailed past entering the mish and mash of higgle and piggle.
He jerked awake. On a side table were the books he read a page or two at night. He chose to thumb through a pamphlet of jokes worn thin about a porker. Looking up he saw shadows on his wall swaying to and thro.
“I have something to say,” said the clock.
“Eh?’” grunted the dragon, scarcely interested.
“It’s playtime!” the clock intoned.
The Dragon cocked an ear, and from outside his window he heard someone calling his name. Looking out he lifted his own fire as homage to the glory of the sun’s genius.
“How wonderful!” cried Heloise to her sister Hortense. “He’s awake.”
“Mr Dragon,” their voices rang.
He heard, and saw the pinkish glow surrounding them. “What do you girls want?”
They beamed. “Would you like to play with us, Mr Dragon?”
“Now?”
“Yes and yes.”
He roared. “I will join you in a second.”
The Pink sisters waited patiently. “Do you think he’ll invite us to breakfast?”
He raced out of his door. “Would you like to walk?”
“But where to?”
“To a café for eggs and coffee.”
THE CAFE
Heloise and Hortense joined hands and fell beside the Dragon’s long pace.
The Fat Chance café was jammed to the gills. If a bill reached $25, jelly pie was free.
The waitress led the Dragon and Pink sisters to a flimsy table in the rear. She handed them menus, but the Dragon had difficulty prying it open.
One of the girls offered to help. “I have long fingernails.”
The Dragon tipped his head, and looked over to his left.
A mother began to upbraid her son. He refused to eat another mouthful. “How do you expect to grow and be like the rest of the boys?” She raised an eyebrow.
The boy shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I don’t want to eat. Don’t make me feel guilty.”
She shrieked. “That’s not a good reason!”
The Dragon and the two girls could not help but to intervene. Hortense tapped the mother on the shoulder.
She spun around like a snake uncoiled.
Hortense explained. “Your son might have another destiny.”
“Are you meddling?”
Hortense reached into her cleavage to bring forth Manly. She held the little soul in the palm of her hand.
The mother reacted with horror.
Manly spoke. “Maybe your son will grow up to be like me.”
She peered at his tiny features. “Is this your son?”
“Madam?” said the Dragon. “I have never met him or his like before this moment.”
A pall fell over the manger. The mother clung to her child.
Manly eyed her heaving bosom. “That’ll do no good. For your son will be whatever he wants to be.”
She cringed and prayed. She was thankful, at least, that he was of normal size.
BREAKFAST
The waitress brought eggs and mugs of steaming coffee.
“Sweet rolls?” asked Heloise.
“Right here,” offering the basket in her hand.
“How did you know?” asked the Dragon. He had not even read the menu.
“We have a clairvoyant who sits in the corner near the kitchen.”
A cloaked figure sat in silence and in gloom.
The Dragon gave him a hurried glance.
“I’ll write up your order in a moment.”
Hortense meanwhile had cut tiny bites for Manly. He sat on the edge of the plate. He squeezed his eyes tight with every morsel.
“He’s so well behaved,” complemented the Dragon.
Hortense reddened. “I was nervous about revealing him. He can be so perky.”
Heloise smiled.
“Did you roll your eyes, Heloise? You also have men locked up in your bosom.”
Heloise pouted.
The Dragon asked, “Where did you and Manly meet?”
“I found him swimming in a glass of water. We’ve been inseparable ever since.”
He addressed Manly. “Where on earth did you learn to speak the King’s English?”
Manly muttered something incomprehensible.
“Speak up, little man. We can’t hear you over this din.”
Manly seethed with resentment. “I am called Manly, and that is for a reason.”
“He can be a prick,” added Hortense.
“Though your arms are short, you are far reaching?” asked the Dragon.
“Far be it for you to know the regions I visit.”
Heloise pinched Manly on the head. “Pipsqueak.” She put him under an overturned glass.
“He might suffocate,” observed the Dragon.
Heloise grew a tad pinker. “I wouldn’t let him. He can turn devilish if you let him out of hand.”
“After a time Manly may choose to act with more manners.” Hortense turned to the Dragon. “Can you light this cigarette for me?”
The Dragon inhaled, and then deftly lit it with a flame shooting out of his left nostril.
Heloise grew serious. “Mr Dragon, you are a gifted writer. Why haven’t you published?”
“Well.” He was at a loss. “The written word is rubbish. Conversation is the font from which I drink.”
She frowned. “More words signifying nothing.”
He shrugged. “I haven’t chosen to publish for the simple reason that no one is interested. Perhaps posthumously. Meanwhile I have a cosmic readership.”
Hortense puffed nervously. “Cosmic?”
The Dragon inscribed a circle with his finger in the air. “Look through his gate into another world.”
The girls beheld vast seas, swirling mists, and the warrior walking toward a rising sun.
“Who’s he?” Heloise asked.
The Dragon abruptly snapped shut the aperture. “There are others besides him who enjoy my stories.”
They began to worry over the Dragon’s sanity.
Manly beat against the glass.
“He’s frantic,” remarked the Dragon.
“I’ll let you out, Manly,” said Heloise, “But be good and still.”
Manly glowered at the Dragon while sitting on a packet of sugar.
The waitress brought the bill, and Heloise grabbed it.
“What is the amount?” asked the Dragon.
She studied the bill.
“Is there a problem?” asked the Dragon.
“Forgive me. As I interpret it, the gentleman standing over by the swinging doors to the kitchen has already paid it.”
Their eyes swept over to their benefactor.
“Someone from your past?” the girls guessed.
The Dragon squinted. “I cannot be sure.”
Hortense scooped up Manly. They went to thank their friend.
By the time they had picked their way through the room filled to the brim with patrons wolfing down jelly pies, he had vanished.
The Dragon blinked to stem the tears. “It may have been the fish or the warrior.”
The sisters grabbed the Dragon, each by an arm, and promenaded down the road to his home. They left him, before he could kiss them goodbye. He went inside to his study where he opened a book and read poetry until the afternoon was spent far past twilight.
Warrior, Felt, Undertaker, and other stories 