The Dragon and His Dinner:A Classic-ish Fairytale

  When the castle cellar was finished, the Prince revealed the second half of his plan. The Prince and ten of his advisors would allow themselves to be captured by the Dragon. (Someone had to be left to make sure the plan went as planned. I shan’t tell you how the drawing of straws went though, as I am sure you can imagine.) Once in his lair, the Prince would confront the Dragon and suggest that he switch from eating serfs to eating cows. Then all their problems would be solved!

  "Definitely dumb as a post," the people of Muldenderry had reaffirmed to themselves. "Well, at least we have a good place to hide. Let him get eaten if he wants. We should have known."

  The advisors were none too pleased with this half of the plan either. "Now look at the predicament we’re in!" the advisors said to each other, but could not think of any excuse to get themselves out of it.

  When the plan had all been set, and everybody was situated, the Prince and his extremely scared advisors, who were still wondering how they had gotten themselves into this mess, sat themselves down in the courtyard and waited.

  A few days after their capture, when they had gotten over the shock of being fed fresh fruits and veggies and not being eaten right away, the Prince gathered up his nerve and spoke to the Dragon.

  This surprised him. Dragon that is. He had no idea the little serfs could even communicate in any real language. He had heard them make little titters and whines before, but he had never really paid any attention. He had assumed they were like the birds, squawking at each other in no particular tongue.

  "HEY DRAGON!" the Prince was screaming.

  "Hmmm, bold little bugger," Dragon had thought, "should I just chomp him now? Maybe I’ll find out what he wants, and then chomp him."

  "HEY DRAGON. DOWN HERE!" the Prince was yelling while jumping up and down, and waving his scrawny arms around like a little monkey. In fact, the boy was pretty scrawny all the way around, Dragon thought. Scrawny little arms, scrawny little torso, and really scrawny little legs.

  "That one doesn’t look too appetizing," thought Dragon, "and not too nice to listen to either." He cringed at the high nasally voice of his dinner. "Well, might as well listen to what he has to say." And he lowered his huge head down to the serf, looked him straight in the eye and growled.

  "U-U-H-H-H, hi." The Prince stammered. "U-U-H-H-H..." His voice seemed to have gotten even higher and more nasally. "U-U-H-H-H...D-D-Dragon...U-H-H-H...ya know...y-y-you don’t have to eat us...you know." His voice trailed off as he began to loose his verve.

  "I’ve got to get myself together," the Prince thought to himself, so he took a deep breath, straightened himself up, and looked directly into the Dragon’s glistening green eye. The right one to be exact. The Dragon was so huge he could only look into one eye at a time. The Prince had to admit it was a bit daunting trying to reason with an eyeball the same size as himself, even if he was a Prince.

  "Ya know," the Prince continued, "you don’t have to...you could eat something else...I mean...cows are good! They’re larger, more meaty and are a great source of protein...heh-heh...ya know."

  "Uh-huh-h-h," replied Dragon, engulfing the serf in his muggy tropical breath. "Cow’s, huh-h-h."

  "Y-y-yes. C-c-cows. We eat them all the time. Th-they’re our main source of meat. In Muldenderry, I mean..." the Prince was able to explain. It was not as bad as he had thought it would be, once he had gotten started. In fact he thought things were going well, except for the Dragon’s breath, which was making him woozy.

  "O-o-oh-h-h, really?" said Dragon. He was getting a little impatient with the gangly serf and his stomach was starting to grumble. "Hmmm, cows?" Dragon repeated to himself. The Dragon’s voice was a deep baritone. It rattled the lanky serfs’ bones and made his brain buzz. But the Prince was not going to chicken out now, he was determined to make a deal with the Dragon that had terrorized his serfdom for over two decades, and solve this problem once and for all.

  "Y-y-yes. Cows. I was...we were thinking...maybe..." Oh heck, he was chickening out.

  "Well, spit it out, serf. I don’t have all day. I’m hungry and there are only ten of you to eat. If your suggesting I eat some cows as well..."

  "YES!" the Prince interrupted, although he knew it was not very polite. "Uh. I mean no! I mean... why not eat cows instead of serfs?!" Phew. The Prince heaved a sigh of relief. He had thought he was not going to be able to get that out. But he had done it, and he gave himself a mental pat on the back.