D is for Dragon

Durian peeked from around the printer to look at what I was typing on the monitor screen. A tiny tendril of smoke escaped out his nostrils, a habit he developed when he became agitated with me. I looked at the miniature dragon (he was actually a fairy dragon, the last of his kind) and put my hands in my lap.

“What?” I asked quietly.

The blue and gold creature turned his head up to look at me, his eyes nictitated to moisten his golden orbs. “Is that what you’re going to submit?” Durian asked in a surprisingly gruff voice for a dragon so small.

“Yes. Why? “ I responded suspiciously, “what’s wrong with it?”

“It stinks,” he said simply.

I looked at the monitor, then back to him, “What about it stinks?”

“The whole thing, who is going to believe that balderdash? A mutant cat meeting a dragon, indeed! A dragon would gobble down a cat, mutant or not, for a snack.”

“Look, Durian,” I started, crossing my arms over my chest in my own state of agitation, “the prompt was to write a story about a dragon. I figure, since I have a resident dragon and cat, although she isn’t a mutant one, it would make for a good story. I’ve seen how you two interact and Sassy isn’t very impressed with you.”

Durian’s short spiked tail slapped across the dictionary behind him on my desk; his long angular face became animated with his anger. “Impressed! That walking hairball has the integrity of Simon Cowell and the attitude to go with it. The only thing that impresses her is catnip!”

I looked at him, smiling inwardly at how cute he was when he was angry. I had that same thought when Durian first came into my life six months ago.

To be honest, I was on the threshold of just chucking away everything, polishing off a bottle of whiskey in hopes it would give me the courage to put myself out of my misery. My life had quickly been going downhill and anything that could go wrong was going wrong. The problems were coming at me at a velocity that was overwhelming. The more that happened, the deeper I fell into depression.

As I stood out on the balcony, drunk and feeling the heat of that summer night, something hit me in the head. I was nearly taken off my feet and spilled my glass of whiskey. My first thought was one of the many Canadian geese that could be found here in the summer had lost its way and inevitably collided with me. Was I ever surprised to find that it was a talking fairy dragon, as Durian turned out to be!

All the construction of the new bridge, in the midst of what had once been a refuge for all manner of wildlife, had displaced these phenomenal little creatures and all other wildlife. Most had died from the lack of their natural prey of things smaller than themselves, others met with accidents of construction. Durian was the last of his kind and was close to death when he crashed into me.

But he was the first dragon of any kind for me and we were a blessing to each other. My trying to save him actually saved me. He gave me a new reason to live.

“Maybe so, but Sassy has yet to tell me my stories stink. And you might think again if I withhold your next meal of hamburger.”

The fairy dragon at first looked shocked then chagrined; he hadn’t counted on me using my leverage as his meal ticket against him. Little wings unfolded from his sides as he turned, claws clicking on the desktop and he fluttered down to the floor.

“Where are you going?” I asked. I now felt bad about my chiding. He had only given me his opinion on the story, that wasn’t grounds to actually starve him for.

Without pausing or a look back he said, “To bed. If I am to go hungry, I may as well sleep.”

“Durian! I’m sorry! I was wrong to say that to you.”

Durian paused now, but didn’t say a word.

“Look, c’mon back and help me rewrite this story, then I’ll go out to Mc Donald’s for Big Macs and fries,” I offered to make peace.

“Make it Whoppers from Burger King and you have a deal,” the little dragon countered. He flapped his wings and settled next to me on the desk.

“Done deal!” I cleared the screen and we began.