A Dragon's Problems

Gisela Woldenga                                                                         Word Count: 1004 words

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                                                           A Dragon’s Problem

Mugs, the dragon, opened one eye then the other. He yawned and let out a blast of steam. He wriggled the spiky end of his tail and rattled a heap of gold coins. He liked that sound.

           Mugs sighed. He had had a long nap but he wasn’t happy. Slowly he turned his bulky body around and looked at the end of his cave. There it was, his hoard of treasures: gold and silver in all shapes, jewels and diamonds. It had been a good many years of flapping through the air, scaring humans with shooting flames around them, burning some houses and collecting their riches.

           Mugs was also in competition with neighbouring dragons and, so far, had been the winner. One just had to know how. He chuckled which generated another stream of hot steam.

           But lately he had some doubts about his activities. What was he going to do with a cave full of treasures? All of it just laid there. Some of the silver had tarnished. Occasionally he would pick out intricate items to admire the craftsmanship, the brilliant shine and colour. Again, how often could he do that?  After that what to do with them?

           Not only that but at the last raid an arrow had pierced his right wing and had taken ages to fall out and heal. Mugs sighed again. He was getting old and tired of sitting in a cave full of shiny things he couldn’t do anything with.

Then he had an idea – or even two. How about getting a new residence and closing this one? He would take a few favourite pieces with him to remind him of his successful raids. It would be important to cover the entrance with rocks to prevent his competitors from sneaking by and stealing it all.

Or he might turn into a kind dragon and scatter all the treasures over the landscape. The humans could pick them up again. However that would probably cause a riot and they would fight over the trinkets. Just for the fun of it he would fly around and create some more panic. Mugs had to laugh which sounded like a mini roar. He looked back at the piles of his glittering hoard. It would take some work to transport it all. But he had all the time in the world. Starting right now he could move some of it to the entrance of the cave and continue so every day. Later he would scoop up as much as possible with his front legs and dump it over the landscape.

           Then again, what was he thinking? Dragons were dangerous, roaring, fire breathing monsters, not gift givers. Dragons had to watch their reputation. But maybe a change was necessary. Some humans even now considered them good luck.

           Mugs made up his mind. He had to make room in his cave or suffocate. He got to work. He rolled the gold coins into the front of his cave, then some of the silver ware and trinkets. By that time his body ached. He wasn’t used to all this shoving and bending. Neither was he used to so much thinking and planning. Time for a nap. With a grunt and a groan he rolled back into his lair.

           A loud cawing and tinkling woke him up again. He turned over to look. Crows and magpies fluttered all over his coins and carried them off. Mugs had to smile, as much as his long teeth would let him. Less for him to carry out. He’d better got a start.

           He stuffed his first load behind his front legs, took some pieces in his mouth and flew out into the valley. There he dropped them randomly over the fields and roofs. At first the people screamed and hid inside their houses. But soon they noticed glittering things falling from the sky and ran to catch them. Mugs couldn’t help himself. He let out a giant roar, flapped his wings and sent all the humans into a panic again. His old habits would not die so soon. If they had been able to know him better they would have heard his laughter among the noise.

           On his way home he sniffed an unfamiliar odor. He flew a bit faster. That could only be another dragon. Who was stealing his hoard? There he was: Skunky sitting at Mugs’ cave entrance and inspected a handful of diamond necklaces.

           Mugs bellowed. “You’re not welcome here, Skunky. Besides you are polluting the air.”

           Skunky rumbled. “Calm down. Why are you getting rid of this? Can I take it?”

           Mugs knew he had to explain. After that Skunky laughed so hard, it shook some boulders loose. “That is crazy. You’re getting old. Can I keep these necklaces?”

           Mugs rattled his tail. “Take them and get off my property.”

           Skunky laughed some more, blew off a bit of steam and flew away. Mugs knew that any other dragon would hear about this soon. To prevent any more intruders he had to make one more trip. The sooner he could get rid of his treasure the better. The last thing he needed was to be made the laughing stock of his competition. On this trip Mugs did not waste any time roaring and showing off his firery breath. He flew into another valley and dropped gold, silver and jewels over the streets. He didn’t wait for the people to find it. It had been a long day. He wasn’t used to all these activities.

           Back at his cave he crawled into it and surveyed what was left of his hoard. Not much but that was just right. He now had more room to wrestle around and he could see his favourite pieces and admire them. He gave a big yawn, curled up his spiky tail and congratulated himself for finishing his rather unusual but healthy decision.