Percival's Resolution

Percival punched the air as the clock chimed midnight. He looked at the charred remains beside his left foot and grinned. One hundred. Time for another tattoo. At the Dragon Club, they’d be green – greener - with envy. And this year he really must ask Delilah for a date. He’d secretly loved her for years. Surely, she wouldn’t turn him down now! Chuckling, he reached for his phone.

‘Hello, Tracy’s Tattoos? I need another human done,’ he said. ‘Right foreleg this time.’

Tracy whistled through her teeth. ‘New Year’s Day is always busy.’ She glanced at the blank pages of her diary. ‘Oh, you’re in luck! I can squeeze you in this afternoon. I’ve had a cancellation. Will two-ish do you?’

Percival took the quickest route, and flew over forests, mountains and rivers towards the city. He hovered over the backstreets, looking down on the boarded up shops, nightclubs and rows of pre-war houses. Checking his wristwatch, he circled the tiny tattoo parlour twice, and landed.

As always, rock music blasted from inside. Peering through the

grimy window, he could just make out Tracy’s bleached blonde hair. Oh, and was that another shape beside her? He narrowed his single red eye, smoke billowing from his nostrils. Had she double booked?

Throwing the door back, he bent his head and forced his way in.

How was one supposed to make a dignified entrance when the doorway was so small?

Tracy grinned her usual toothy welcome and gestured to the plump redhead on the stool opposite, ‘This is my apprentice,’ she announced, in between long drags on her cigarette. ‘She’ll do your tattoo.’

‘Apprentice?’ Percival frowned, eyeing the redhead. ‘Is she

...competent?’

Tracy nodded as she stubbed out the cigarette and tottered towards the door. ‘I need more ciggies, I’ll leave you to it, Ange.’

Ange spoke for the first time. Percival liked the husky sound of her voice. Such a contrast to Tracy’s screeching. ‘A bloke called Bob wanted his name tattooed on his butt yesterday,’ she said. ‘I only had to do two Bs, one on each cheek’ - she snorted with laughter - ‘as the O was -’

‘Okay, do my tattoo,’ he said, still uneasy. His granny had always

told him to trust his instincts. He reminded Ange what he wanted.

‘Wow, so you’ve really killed a hundred?’ she asked.

‘I don’t exaggerate, like some dragons do.’ He treated her to a rare smile, flashing his huge jagged teeth at her.

Her hands shook a little, he noticed, but he looked away (it was just the thought of needles…) and squat on his haunches as she went to work, his right forelimb extended.

‘There,’ she said, after ten minutes. ‘All done.’

Percival’s eye was suddenly huge, flames flickering from his

mouth as he bellowed, ‘What’s that?’

‘Well, I thought the others looked like signs from gents’ toilets, so I made him a bit special. I can get rid of the bow tie, if you like.’

‘You’ve given him a walking cane, a top hat and a smiley face.’

Percival watched as the woman’s chair burst into flames. He’d never been able to stop that sort of thing happening when he was upset. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, as she leaped around the room, fanning her bottom. ‘But right now, I really feel I could kill you.’ His eye glazed. Yes, he could kill her and Tracy could sort out the terrible tattoo (then do one more…)

‘No, you can’t kill me.’

‘What?’

‘I’m not a virgin.’ Ange smirked. ‘You really don’t know, do you?’

Percival stared. ‘What don’t I know?’

Throwing a bucket of water over the smoking remains of the chair, Ange continued, ‘You must kill virgins. That’s what dragons do. If the others find out, you’ll be the laughing stock of the Dragon Club. And that lady dragon you like will never date you.’

Was she right? No one had ever told him that before. His heart

thudding against his chest, clouds of smoke pouring from his nostrils, Percival stammered, ‘Y-you won’t tell anyone, will you?’

Her arms folded, Ange tapped her foot as a slow smile spread across her face. ‘Well, that depends.’

What a year it was! Percival wrote in his journal every day, ‘I hate my life.’ He hadn’t been so miserable since the clumsy fireman had poked one of his eyes out with his ladder. He wanted to be a killer, not a blooming flying taxi for Ange and Tracy. And the barbecues were too degrading for words...

It was New Year’s Eve again and he still hadn’t asked Delilah for a date. After he’d flown the women from a pub to a nightclub and then to an Indian restaurant, he knew the answer. Ye-es, that would work! It was so obvious, he wondered why it had taken him a year to think of it. He’d have to find a hundred virgins, kill them, and then he could return to the Dragon Club, his head held high.

From outside the restaurant, Percival heard Tracy’s high-pitched

voice, ‘Waiter! More lager!’ They’d be a while yet. He crossed the road and approached the doorman on the steps of a nightclub.

Try to make it sound casual. Be cool. ‘Are there lots of virgins in

there?’ he asked, jerking his head towards the club.

The man’s chins wobbled as he burst into laughter. ‘Are you

kidding? You won’t find any in there, mate.’ As Percival turned to walk away, the chuckling man added, ‘None in this street.’

Percival tried at a few more clubs and pubs, but the responses were just as disappointing. His eye on the ground, he nearly walked into a large woman standing by a lamppost. ‘I don’t suppose you’re a virgin?’ he asked.

The woman winked. ‘I can be anything you want, darling.’

Ange whistled for him. ‘Here’s your supper,’ she said, tossing him

a vindaloo. They swigged from bottles as Percival gobbled the food. Not his sort of thing, but he was hungry.

Hiccupping, he asked, ‘Where to next?’ Before they could reply, he burped loudly and engulfed them in flames. Whumph! They were incinerated in seconds.

Staring in shocked silence, Percival started to laugh. No one knew his secret now. He’d be top dog at the club and Delilah would be his. As he flew up, up and away, his laughter echoed throughout the street, drowning out the fireworks and chimes of the village clock as it struck twelve. Yes, this time he would keep his New Year resolution. And there was no time like the present!