Written for Lorna's Blog Party. It required the use of the words practical, shaggy, porcelain, dragon, approximate, explain, narrower, fountain, gyrate, exhaling, off-balance, angels, exaggerate, cotton, incriminate, afterward, moon, terror, ruptured, and sickly. I'll return you to your regularly scheduled florist soon enough.
Bobby was never a very practical boy. At least that's what his teachers always told him. He was raised by his Mom and Dad to always seek the most interesting solution to any problem, rather than necessarily taking the shortest route. "Son," Dad would say, patting Bobby's shaggy brown hair, "life is too short to treat every situation like some sort of porcelain doll. If your answer ruffles some feathers then you're probably on the right track. If you're wrong then just keep trying."
So when the young lad saw his first dragon, rather than assuming he had gone off his rocker, he took it at face value. With an approximate length of four inches and iridescent pink scales, it didn't look much like the ones he'd read about in faerie stories. Still it would no doubt be easier to catch and keep than something the size of a car or larger.
There was no book that he could find to explain how one caught a dragon. Most of them concerned themselves with matters of killing and that just didn't sit well with him. Unfazed by this, he came up with his own idea. Using a cardboard box, some string and a stick that was a bit narrower than his thumb Bobby built a trap. He'd seen something like it on Looney Tunes.
The primitive trap was constructed in his back yard, near the fountain his Mom had built to compliment her Zen rock garden. He'd sighted the pink dragon there on several occasions, sunning itself. On schedule he watched it gyrate through the air, until it lighted on the sturdy branch of an apple tree that occupied the rear corner of their lawn.
Exhaling the tension from his little body, he waited now for it to discover the bait. He didn't know what smaller dragons ate. There was much talk in the book about virgins and that sort of thing. Lacking anything appropriate, he decided to go with a strawberry pop-tart. It was what he had and perhaps the sweet confection would be as big a hit with the dragon as it was with Bobby.
The speed with which the beast moved to the box caught him off-balance. Before Bobby could blink it had grabbed the pale rectangle and flew to a perch on the fountain. Looked like it was time to take a more direct approach. He said a prayer to his guardian angels, someone had once said that a boy like him would need more than one, and stood slowly.
"Pardon me, Mr. Dragon," Bobby said in a clear, quiet voice. "I'm not sure if you can talk or even understand me. I won't exaggerate my knowledge of your kind. But if you can, would you be so kind as to be my pet?"
The petite monster, if such a thing could be so called, reared back on its haunches. Its belly was as white as Bobby's cotton briefs. It appeared to be thinking. "I'm sorry boy. I don't think I would make a very good pet. Besides, this trap that you have laid for me would seem to incriminate you for attempted dragon-napping. That doesn't incline the odds in your favor of me sticking around." Its voice was light and airy, yet still carried a commanding tone.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't sure what else to do. I don't intend you any harm." Bobby took a step forward.
"Stay where you are young man," the dragon said sternly. "Let us talk for a moment and perhaps afterward a friendship will be possible. I am called Spinel and you are?"
"Bobby Stewart. A pleasure to meet you Spinel." He said, remembering his manners.
Spinel took another bite of the pastry. "The bait you chose is quite good Bobby. It was quite a long flight from the moon and I was feeling a bit peckish. Now, as you probably know our races have gone back and forth for generations causing a great deal of terror on both sides."
He nodded, though from his point of view it would seem that dragons were far more terrible than humans.
"The time has come though, for us to make peace with you and take our place in our rightful home. The moon is lovely, especially this time of year, but we belong here." Spinel took the last bite and licked each claw clean, rather like a cat. "As such, a group of us have been sent to find people who might help. You are one such boy."
Bobby's heart felt like it had ruptured by the sudden influx of joy. An ambassador to dragons, him?
A look of concern, indistinguishable to humans from any other dragonly look, crossed Spinel's features. "Are you alright young man? You look a bit sickly."
"Oh, yes sir. I'm just fine and I'll be glad to help you in any way." Only a boy as impractical as Bobby would make such an offer, though he and the world would one day be glad of it.
