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  She glanced nervously back over her shoulder toward the village. The large, gold hoops dangling from her ears made a “plop-plop” sound against her flushed cheeks as she quickly turned her attention back to the dragon. “I ... uh ... that’s not ... I don’t—”

  “Don’t tell me they’re trying to pass you off as a virgin.” He chuckled and clucked his seven foot tongue against the blood red roof of his scaly mouth. “I may not be the brightest dragon around, but even I am not that naive.”

  The woman moved her hands from her hips and crossed her arms tightly beneath her bosom. The gesture shoved her breasts even higher making them more the size of watermelons than grapefruits. She shook her head, clanging the heavy, gold earrings against her cheeks again. “That’s not why I’m here, Sir Dragon.”

  The dragon arched the bony ridges above his eyes. “Hmm, they’re doing wonders with silicone now-a-days, aren’t they?” He grinned a serpentine grin displaying layers of teeth.

  “Silicone? Why you over-grown lizard! These are all mine. Given to me by the good Lord to do with as I please. And I’ll thank you to keep your beady eyes off them.”

  He thumped the ground behind him with his ponderous tail and bellowed, “Lizard? You foolish woman, I could squash you with one claw. False bravery does a dead woman little good.” He raised a giant arm above her as if he was about to swat a fly and shot a blazing bolt of flame at the grass where she stood.

  She leapt to the side, her skirt swinging in wide arcs. “Wait! I ... I’m sorry. My temper is always getting me into hot spots.” She glanced down at the smoldering grass. “No pun intended.” She laughed nervously, then raised herself to her full height and looked straight into the dragon’s eyes. “I have to tell you something. Something important.”

  The dragon lowered his arm and sneered. “Did the villagers send you?”

  “No. I volunteered. We figured with your ... ahh ... specific tastes that I’d be the last one you would want for lunch.”

  “Hmmm, you’re a spicy wench, aren’t you? Probably tough as tree bark too.”

  “I’m not a wench. My name’s Jolene.” She smiled coquettishly. “Besides, I’ve never seen a dragon up close.”

  He raised his serpentine neck, spread his wings and blasted the weeds at her feet into ashes.

  She jumped away from the smoking weeds.

  “Well now you’ve seen me up close.” He blew a gray-black smoke ring through his nose with a snort. “Enough!” he roared. “Where is my lunch?”

  “I ... I came to tell you that the village has no virgins left.”

  “No virgins?”

  She shook her head. “Not one. We’ve scoured the countryside. There are none to be had. They’ve all been had ... uh ... if you catch my meaning.” She gave him a saucy wink and giggled.

  “Not funny!” Thundered the dragon. “Every six months, I get a virgin for lunch or I’ll destroy the whole village. That’s the deal. It’s lunch time. I don’t have much of a sense of humor on an empty stomach.” He sneered, flashing yellow teeth. “I suppose I could eat you even if you are tough as my toenail.”

  “Oh no!” She backed up a few more steps. “Everyone knows that I’m about as far from a virgin as you can get.”

  “Humph!” he snorted. “What’s in that cart behind you?”

  “I brought you something else. Pigs and goats.”

  “Pigs and goats? Bah!”

  Flames flicked over her sandals. She curled her toes and leaped backwards another few feet. Her gold hoops clanged in rapid succession.

  “Goat gives me heartburn,” he growled. “All that hair. And those little, knobby horns irritate my throat something awful.” He leaned his massive, scaly head down to look her in the eyes and swirled his apocalyptic tail in spiraling circles over his head. “You know,” he rumbled. “I never really cared much for virgin anyway. Too bland. No pepper. It was you humans who decided that dragons should eat virgins.” He patted his stomach gently with his claw, caught the end of his restless tail, caressed it thoughtfully with his other claw and frowned. “But I do have a very sensitive stomach, so I agreed.”

  She brightened. “You’ll have the pigs and goats then?” She asked as she stepped aside leaving the livestock laden cart between her and the dragon.

  “Maybe a pig or two for an appetizer.” He grinned and rolled out his tongue to catch the squealing pig he had scooped up out of the cart in a giant claw. He dropped the pig into his gaping mouth and swallowed.

  The woman paled. “Appetizer?”

  He grinned again. “I always did like a little sauce with my meal,” he said. He gingerly poked her belly with an out-stretched claw. “Hmmm, plump as the little Dough Boy,” he chuckled.

  She stared at his poking claw and backed even further away . She backed until a soft “thlummp” announced that her posterior had met a sturdy, poplar tree. Not taking her eyes off the dragon’s flailing claw and gyrating tail, she reached behind her and gripped the tree’s sides with both hands. “The ... the what boy?” she stammered.

  “The Dough Boy. The little—” He snorted and stopped mid-sentence. He sat back on his haunches, crossed his arms on his protruding stomach, and stroked his chin with one claw. “Oh yeah, you probably don’t watch much TV, do you? You probably have a life!” He sighed loudly. “Well I watch it a lot, you know.”

  Puffs of rancid smoke from his heavy sigh enveloped the woman and the tree in a gray haze. She gripped the tree’s sides tighter and coughed.

  “Not much else to do in these damp caves that you humans insist dragons must live in.” He rolled his red eyes heavenward. “Oh my. The things I must do just to get a decent meal,” he bemoaned. You humans wouldn’t treat a dog this way, yet you have no conscience when it comes to us poor dragons.” He sighed again, and scooped another squealing pig out of the cart, plopped it into his mouth and belched loudly.

  The woman gasped and coughed through the fog that his burp created.

  The dragon licked his fingers and glared down at her. “No virgins, huh?” he growled.

  She backed against the tree even harder as if she could move it with the sheer pressure of her backside.

  “Oh my poor stomach,” he moaned as he patted his scaly midsection with his claw. “Inherited it from my mother, you know.” He spread his wings and stood up, freeing his tail from his mighty haunches. “Intestinal inconsistencies. That’s what Mama called it. Runs in the family. Oh well, what’s a dragon to do?”

  Suddenly, he swung his massive tail upward and brought it down onto the leafy top of the tree the woman held hostage. The tree shuddered and shed its leaves in a green shower onto the woman.

  She released the tree from the death grip she held it in and sprinted for the road, her earrings clanging like dinner bells.

  The dragon scooped her up in his powerful claws before she made it to the next tree.

  “What’s a poor, hungry dragon to do?” he asked rhetorically.

  “Wait, Sir Dragon, Wait!”

  “Why?” he growled. “You said yourself, there’s no virgins. I gotta eat someone. Keep up my strength, you know. I’m the runt of the litter. If my brothers hear about this, they’ll come over and bully me around again. Just ‘cause they’re bigger.”

  She struggled to her feet in his mammoth, clawed paw, keeping her balance by clutching his thumb claw with both hands and glared at him. “STOP! If you eat me, I swear I’ll give you heartburn so bad you’ll think you’ve died and gone to Salami hell.” She stared at his teeth just a few feet away. “Uh ... did you say, bigger? Your brothers are bigger?”

  “Yeah, but that’s not important now. Right now, I’m hungry.” He lowered his head until his muzzle grazed her arm as he gazed at her face. “Salami hell?”

  “Yep. Salami hell.”

  He lowered her to the ground and dumped her from his paw. He patted his stomach with both claws. “Now what am I going to do? Those pigs and goats won’t do at all. I guess I’ll just have to raid the village.�
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  Jolene stood and brushed the dirt off of her skirt. “Look what you’ve done. Mussed my Sunday best. I’ll never get these stains out. And you can’t raid the village. They’ll lynch me if you do.”

  “Why you?”

  “Because that’s the way they are. They always have to blame someone else for their problems. Why do you think there are no virgins? Because they can’t control themselves. That’s why. They’re all idiots. They coulda’ saved just one. But noooo. Never think about anyone but themselves.”

  “Then who shall I have for lunch?” he whined.

  Jolene snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it!”

  “Got what?”

  “It.”

  “It?”

  “Yeah, but not who’s for lunch. What’s for lunch. Sir Dragon, did you ever have a bagel? Or a pretzel?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “How about a pina coloda? Or a Colorado Bulldog?”

  “I had a bulldog once. Toughest, stringiest hide I ever ate. Never heard of a pina ... pina—”

  “Colada. It’s a drink. A little pineapple, a little rum and a whole lot of taste. Colorado Bulldog’s a drink too. Kahlua, that’s like chocolate, and cream and vodka. Good stuff, Sir, and the cream’s just what a sensitive stomach ordered. I run the pub down in the village. No one can mix a Bulldog like I can. No one.”

  “So what?”

  “So, fresh bagels and cream cheese, pretzels, pineapple and cream—what could be better for your stomach? And I guarantee it’ll taste better than any pablum-pure virgin would.”

  The dragon shook his head and blew smoke rings from his nose. “Oh, I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  Jolene reached inside the folds of her skirt, found the pocket and retrieved a foil wrapped bundle. “Here. Just so happens that I have a fresh baked bagel smothered with cream cheese right here. I was saving it for my lunch, but you can have it.” She held it out to him.

  Cautiously, he took it from her hand and sniffed it. His tongue lolled out and daintily licked at the creamy topping. He rolled his red, beady eyes Heavenward and said, “Delicious! I’ve never tasted anything like it. Do you have more?”

  “Yep, all you can eat, down in the village.” Jolene’s eyes grew wide. “Wow! Think what this would do for the dairy industry. And the bagel and pretzel factory would have to hire a lot more people just to keep you in lunches. And the pineapple would have to be shipped in. And....” She stopped talking and mentally calculated how many shares of stock she could buy in the various industries. “Of course, we’d have to pay for all that stuff somehow.”

  “I knew it,” the dragon growled. “There’s always a catch. Here you go and get my hopes all up, then BOOM, smash them into the ground. Enough. I’ll just eat you and forget it.” He wrapped his claws around her and snorted. Another smoke ring puffed from his nose and curled lazily upward.

  “Wait!” she screamed. “Do that again.”

  He halted with her plump body half way to his gaping mouth. “Do what?”

  “That. That smoke thing. The rings from your nose. Can you do that all the time?”

  “Huh? Sure, but....”

  “Smoked hams. You could smoke ‘em, I could sell ‘em. And shows—you could be the star attraction—blowing rings and ... and rides—you could give people rides. You know, fly around a little with them on your back. We could charge ten, twenty bucks a head for a five minute ride. We’ll make a fortune!”

  “Aw come on. Nobody’s gonna’ pay to see me. Humans are all scared of me ... well maybe except you.”

  “That’s because you threaten to eat them all the time. If you promise not to gulp down the paying customers, it would work. Besides, you said you were lonely. You wouldn’t be if you had all those people around you all the time. And we could fix up your cave. You know, a little paint and plaster. Maybe a window or two so it wouldn’t be so dark and damp. Think about it, Sir Drag ... uh, what is your name by the way? If we’re gonna be partners, I can’t keep calling you Sir Dragon.”

  “Well, my mamma always called me ‘Hey You.’ She called us all that. Said she wouldn’t get confused that way.”

  “Hey You? No. That won’t do at all.” She thought a minute. “I know. We’ll call you Joe. Joe Dragon. I always liked that name. My third husband’s name was Joe. Or was it my fourth? Anyway, I liked him better than the others. Then he had to go and get himself squashed under a wine cask.”

  “Hmm. Joe. Joe Dragon.” He scratched his muzzle with a claw. “I like that.”

  “Yeah. We could make signs. You know, RIDE JOE DRAGON. ONLY TEN DOLLARS.”

  “And I get all the bagels and cream cheese I want?”

  “All you want. And all the other goodies too. No more indigestion. Come on. Let’s go down to the village. I can’t wait to get started.”

  “But what about the other humans down there. Won’t they be scared?”

  “Sure, but they’ll get over it when they see how rich we’ll all be. And they’ll be relieved that they don’t have to find any more virgins. Vanishing breed, virgins. Scarce as hen’s teeth these days.” She grabbed the tip of his scaly wing and steered him toward the path. “Come on. Time’s a wastin’. I’m not getting any younger, you know. Can’t stand around here all day gabbing. Now, don’t be a-draggin’ your tail. I’ve got an empire to build.”

  He thumped his massive tail and followed her obediently. “Oh, by the way,” he said. “Did I tell you that I like your earrings?”

  “Why thanks, Joe. I bought them in France on one of my honeymoons. My fourth. Or maybe it was my sixth. Or maybe—”

  He flexed his wings and pounded his tail on the ground. “Okay, already. Sorry I mentioned it.” He rubbed his rumbling stomach with the tip of his tail and mumbled, “Let’s go get those bagels.” Then he sighed, “No virgins, indeed. What’s this world coming to?”

  “Oh I don’t know,” She answered, tugging on his outstretched wing and leading him to the path. “That virginity thing’s not everything it’s cracked up to be anyway.”

  — THE END —

  S. Joan Popek is an award winning author who lives in New Mexico with her husband and assorted cats and dogs. When she isn't writing, she is a part time tutor for Creative Writing at the Creative Writing Institute. www.sjoanpopek.com