For the kids

A dragon Tale

Swigglesniff awoke early one morning to a great rush of dragons thundering past the clump of trees he was sleeping in.  Rubbing his eyes with a clawed foreleg, he looked to see what was going on. “Hey! What’s the matter?” he asked Snurglip, just winging by.

            “It’s George, the dragon killer,” screeched Snurglip, terror in his voice. “You’d better make tracks!”

            “I don’t eat people,” said Swigglesniff smugly.

            “George doesn’t know that,” said Snurglip landing beside Swiggle. “Your brown bumpy hide won’t fool him when he sees the fire shooting out of your snout.”

            Swigglesniff knew George had a reputation for killing dragons on sight. “I’ll find some place to lay low,” he said. “Thanks for the warning.”

            As Snurglip stretched his shimmering wings a silver spear whistled through the trees. It nearly grazed the scales on his chest as he rose into the sky. Terror stricken, Swiggle madly tore at the ground with his claws, hoping going underground would be safer. He blew out as much hot smelly dragon breath as he could muster, and burned a long tunnel into the earth, leaving a steaming mountain of dirt behind. Then he lay very still, his hide itching with worry that George might follow.

            It was a very long time before Swigglesniff thought it safe to come out of hiding. He scraped and fired his way up the long tunnel to the surface spitting fire, roaring and screeching along the way, in case George were still around. Bursting out of his mountain in a cloud of fire and smoke, he looked on the land below.  People were running everywhere as if they were afraid of something. Flying down to an old man near a tree Swigglesniff asked, “What’s going on here?”  The man fainted.

            A woman shrieked, “Go away you filthy dragon!”, and a little boy yelled, “You won’t eat me!” He pelted Swiggle with stones.

            Swigglesniff realized they were scared of him.  Trying to be friendly he said, “I don’t eat people.”  No one listened.  A crowd gathered, and Swiggle tried once more to make friends. “I’m a good dragon,” he said. But the people shoved a man, all tied up and blindfolded, at Swigglesniff for him to eat. That was too much for Swiggle. Sadly he turned back to his mountain and decided to dig in for good.

            Swigglesniff spent centuries underground digging tunnels everywhere. He romped and explored caves. He grubbed for tasty roots to eat. He even took a short swim the day he accidentally dug through the ground under the ocean. Lots of times, though, he just sat and thought about the world outside. He missed the pretty fields. He wished he could fly again. He wished he could make friends.

            Swigglesniff sat one day shedding peppery tears of loneliness when he heard a "chink!" "clunk!"  Rubbing a tear from his eyes he looked up.  High above his head a tiny figure hung dangling from a rope. “Yikes!” thought Swigglesniff, “Another human sacrifice.”

“Hallooooo . . .” came a small voice from the rope.

            Swigglel poked his head farther up the tunnel and whispered in an equally small voice, “Hallooooo . . .” His breath lighted the tunnel and he saw the man on the rope shaking fearfully.

            “Are you . . . gulp . . . a dragon?” asked the man nervously.

            Shyly Swiggle answered in an equally small voice, “Yes . . . but I don’t eat people.”

            The man lowered himself on the rope and said, “I . . . I . . .I’m Dr. Peppercorn of the Berkley Scientific Foundation . . . Ah,  ahem . . . what on earth are you doing here!?”

            “Haven’t you heard about George?” asked Swigglesniff.

            “George? George who?”

            “You know, George the dragon killer!” answered Swiggle.

            “Tell me, I really don’t know anything,” said Peppercorn’ and he began asking all sorts of questions like, “How old are you?” and “Why don’t you have scales?” and “Are you the only dragon?”

            Swigglesniff wanted to answer but noticed the Doctor getting very sweaty and red in his face. The tunnel was obviously getting too hot. “It might be better to talk topside,” he suggested, secretly hoping Peppercorn would make friends with him.

            “I’d love to chat in the open,” said Dr. Peppercorn, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, “but maybe I ought to make some arrangement s first. You know, people don’t think dragons exist anymore.”

            “Yeah, sure,” said Swigglesniff crestfallen, his hopes melting into disappointment.

            “I’m not stalling,” said Peppercorn, “I really do mean to have a long chat with you. I just want to let some of my friends know about you.”

            “You won’t have them throw me human sacrifices, will you?” asked Swigglesniff a little worried.

            “Nah, they’ll love you. You’ll be a big hit,” said Dr. Peppercorn. “Just give me a week to fix things topside.”

            Swigglesniff promised to wait.  As soon as the Doctor had shimmied up the rope, Swiggle started to romp and roar with excitement, blasting fire everywhere.  “Freedom!”, “Open Air!”, “Friends!” he screeched; and the mountain above him shook and rumbled. He frolicked happily the whole week and then burst out of his self made prison in a flash of fire and smoke.

            Looking down on the fields he could hardly believe his crimson eyes. There was a huge crowd of people. Scientists, newsmen, camera men and of course, Dr. Peppercorn. Bands were playing, cheer leaders were cheering, and drill teams formed the words, “Welcome Swigglesniff!” There was even a grandstand covered with fresh fruits and vegetables for him to eat. Slowly Swigglesniff glided to the big roped of area he knew must be for him. As he alighted he whispered once more, “I’m a good dragon; I don’t eat people.”

            A huge cheer went up from the crowd and children broke through the ropes to climb on Swiggle’s back, and news cameras flashed, and the most contented dragon that ever lived settled down to answer questions while gently blowing on marshmallows a little boy was shoving in front of his hot nose.