Hot Stuff

HOT STUFF

Darkness was falling, the hour was late.
All was still on the council estate.
Damp lay glistening on the empty street,
No sound except for scampering feet.

The ‘Black Hand Gang’ tumbled out of the park,
Kicked into the back streets just for a lark.
Their laughter grew loud, their language obscene,
When, there in the distance, they saw something green.

Under the street lamps they made out a shape,
They halted, felt scared, but could not escape.
Something huge, long and scaly lying there,
A few dying sparks in the cool night air.

“What the hell?” gasped Mickey, trembling now,
Beads of sweat forming on his brow.
“It looks like...it can’t be...have I sniffed too much glue?
Hey lads, does that look like a dragon to you?”

Approaching with caution they examined the beast.
It seemed almost dead, but was breathing at least.
Their hands roamed it’s head...decidedly cool.
“I guess,” summed up Mickey, “ It ran out of fuel.”

“Well, what can we do?” asked the rest of the boys.
“This ‘ere’s a real dragon not one of them toys.”
“ I reckon,” said Mickey. “Our luck’s in tonight,
If we can find something to help him ignite.”

“We’d all make a fortune, become millionaires,
With a fire breathing dragon to exhibit at fairs.
In Summer we’d hire him to heat Barbecues,
We’d hit all the Headlines and be on the News.”

“This is our chance lads, for fortune and fame.
If only we’d something to relight his flame.
Split up lads, go searching, I’ll stay and keep guard.
Surely the answer can’t be that hard.”

They all scuttled off through the dark, in a hurry.
Sammy returned with a carton of curry.
Billy brought matches, Tommy, paint stripper,
A few ‘Fisherman’s Friends’ from Jimmy, the nipper.

But, despite all their efforts they could not evoke,
A hint of a flame or a small puff of smoke.
Mickey stood thinking, brain buzzing and churning,
“There must be some way to get this thing burning.”

Then, “Got it!” cried Mickey as he spied an old can.
Checked it for leaks then quickly he ran,
Feet flying swiftly, for the garage he headed,
Stealthily siphoned some petrol, unleaded.

The green jaws were opened, the fuel pumped in fast.
A match was thrown in, combustion at last.
The dark sky was filled with huge amber flashes.
Illuminating long silky eyelashes.

A deep, husky voice was heard through the smoke.
The gang waited in awe as the dragon spoke.
“Well, thank you dear boys, you’ve rekindled my flame,
But I don’t think I can help with your hunger for fame.”

“I have to confess, I’m no vicious brute,
If you care to look closely, you’ll see I’m quite cute.
Observe my rear end through the fire that now flickers,
And you will see that I wear frilly knickers!”

“Your burning ambitions I’m sorry to quench.
But my name’s Davina and I am a wench.
I cannot bring you the fame you desire,
But boys, I’m sure I can light YOUR fire!”