Alright, it’s that time again. Time to jump back into the world of drunken dragons (oh, is that what happened?), yolkless eggs (that obviously can’t hatch), and shotguns (because, why not?). I think that recaps everything nicely. And, since there were no comments this week, I can write whatever I want.
Here we go:
Sirens blared on the street. Lights flashed in the driveway and splatter the side of the house red and blue. Two squad cars and an armored van parked in the lawn. Police officers wearing flak jackets stormed the backyard with rifles raised.
Ben threw his hands into the air. “It passed out.”
The officer in charge motioned with his hand toward the dragon. His team moved forward. They approached with caution.
A cargo helicopter hovered overhead. A net fell from it onto the dragon.
The police team secured the sleeping beast.
The officer pointed a finger in the air and spun his hand.
The helicopter lifted the drunken dragon into the air.
“Where will you take it?” Ben watched the helicopter airlift the dragon away from the neighborhood.
“Anywhere but here.” The police officer nodded. His team withdrew. “What brought it here?”
“No idea. Must’ve been trying to get home from the bar.”
“This is serious, son. Dragons are a menace.”
“One you can’t regulate,” Ben muttered.
“If you spot another, call us immediately.”
“Of course, sir.”
The officer spun on his heel and left.
Ben picked his shotgun up off the ground. “A lot of help you were.” He trudged into the house. He leaned the gun against the door frame and wandered into the family room. He dropped onto the couch and sighed.
His mother walked in. “Did the police leave?”
“I didn’t give a statement.”
“What would you say? The officer asked why the dragon flew here.”
“That’s easy. Your egg.”
“My–why?” Ben sat up. “What does a wind egg have to do with dragons?”
“Cockatrices, Ben. They’re related to wyvrens. They have hind legs and wings instead of arms. The wyvren is cousin to the dragon. They can sense each other.” She chewed her lip and stared into the backyard, at the remains of the shattered eggs. “You got rid of all of them?”
Ben gulped. “It’s not that bad.”
“Ben.” His mother grabbed his shoulders. “They’ll return.”
“A dragon’s just a drunk nuisance. Like when Tobias calls in the middle of the night. He doesn’t harm us.”
“Tobias isn’t a seven hundred pound beast that eats sheep.” His mother frowned. “Please, tell me you destroyed all the eggs.”
Ben hung his head. “I kept one.”
Ben pointed toward Nate’s room.
His mother rushed into the bedroom.
An eggshell cracked. His mother screamed. Ben leapt from the couch and ran into his brother’s room.
His mother sprawled on the floor, her hands raised to her face, a look of shocked horror permanently etched upon it.
Ben dropped to his knees. “What have I done?”
“Gotchya.” His mother slapped his arm. “Now get rid of that think before it kills someone for real.”
“Not cool, Mom, not cool.” Ben grumbled to himself as he reached for the lid of the toad’s cage.
Inside, the toad sat beside the cracked egg. A small lizard squirmed out of the shell, covered in reddish goo.
“Gloves.” Mom handed him a pair of purple rubber gloves. “Even this young, it’ll burn your skin.”
Ben groaned. “I never thought it was real.” He tugged the gloves onto his hands.
“But drunk dragons, those are believable?”
“Once I saw them with my own eyes.” Ben reached into the cage.
The toad croaked. The cockatrice scrambled away from Ben’s hand, its belly dragging along the ground as it learned to walk. It released a tiny creel into the air.
“It’s so cute.” Ben nuzzled it under the chin with a finger.
“It’ll kill us all.”
“Maybe they’re just seriously misunderstood?”
So, what do you think will happen? What do you want to happen? Was it too short? Too long? Too unfunny?
Yep, that’s right. I’m soliciting comments and suggestions. I may even use them. No matter how wacky, zany, nerdy, or weird. It’s a choose your own adventure. You choose what happens next.