Search Results for 'met'

Albie pondered Lottie’s words. He’d been trying to forget the doline, but now he realized he’d been avoiding the inevitable. It was no good pretending there were other jobs for him, that much was becoming clear. His mission had been to protect the doline, and he’d failed.

Or had he? A new idea was glimmering in his mind, that he hadn’t failed at all. At first he’d been so embarrassed and anxious about the security breach that he’d only seen the obvious superficial layer of events. Yes, strangers had entered the doline; true, they were not supposed to let that happen. But now he wondered, were they strangers to the doline? Who were they? Maybe they were meant to enter, and his apparent lack of attention was a providential and timely. How did he, Albie, even know for sure that he was working for the right side? What did he really know about his bosses? And what about that handsome fellow who’d slithered out of the doline, the dark eyed one with leaves in his hair?

Albie hadn’t even told Alex about him, not after the shit hit the fan about the breach and illegal entry. The last thing he felt like doing was admitting that there had been an illegal escape as well. But Albie couldn’t stop thinking about him, the graceful way he shook the dust out of his hair, the depths of those lustrous dark eyes, his long slender fingers….

Now, Albie was kicking himself for hiding behind a tree, for not approaching the strange man, or at least following him to see where he was going. His job was to stop people from entering. Nobody had said anything about stopping people leaving it. It was unexpected, and he’d been scared. Was it too late to try and track his movements? He’d come out of the doline, he’d have stories to tell. Albie needed to know, he needed to find him.

He would find a way to trace him. He wondered if the new dog could help him, if he could find something with the mans scent upon it. Albie was determined to find a way.

As soon as the words had left her mouth, Lottie regretted them. She looked at Albie’s shocked, crestfallen face and knew she had been too harsh. Maybe she wasn’t cut out to be a writing mentor. It was a constant battle for her: should she be brutally honest and possibly save them years of misdirected effort or should she foster their creative spirit at all costs, even if it meant being dishonest? She sighed and tried to backtrack.

“Look, Albie, there is some good stuff in here but it needs work … “

“It’s okay,” Albie broke in quickly. “It’s fine. I knew I was no good … it’s fine. Thanks.” He gave an embarrassed laugh. “Mum has been on at me to do something since I lost my job so i thought … well, I thought I’d give writing a shot. Better stick to walking the dog, eh!”

“Yes, you and Alex are a right pair, walking off the job like that.” Lottie shook her head, causing the thick reading glasses to slip down her long beaky nose. Lottie always wore black and she reminded Albie of a crow. He liked her though, which is why he had asked her to read his play.

“Anyway what’s done is done.” Lottie continued. And then she hesitated for a moment, pushing the glasses back up her nose and looking down at the manuscript on the table in front of her as though weighing her words carefully before continuing. “Look, Albie, one thing I did notice in your writing was that there was a recurring theme. Perhaps your subconscious trying to tell you something. It often works like that.

“The Doline thing?”

“Yes,” said Lottie. “Something to think about anyway.”

random plot generator

A BOOK SHOP – IT IS THE AFTERNOON AFTER ALBIE HIT HIS MOTHER WITH A FEATHER.

Newly unemployed ALBIE is arguing with his friend JENNY RAMSBOTTOM. ALBIE tries to hug JENNY but she shakes him off angrily.

ALBIE
Please Jenny, don’t leave me.

JENNY
I’m sorry Albie, but I’m looking for somebody a bit more brave. Somebody who faces his fears head on, instead of running away. You hit your mother with a feather! You could have just talked to her!

ALBIE
I am such a person!

JENNY
I’m sorry, Albie. I just don’t feel excited by this relationship anymore.

JENNY leaves and ALBIE sits down, looking defeated.

Moments later, gentle sweet shop owner MR MATT HUMBLE barges in looking flustered.

ALBIE
Goodness, Matt! Is everything okay?

MATT
I’m afraid not.

ALBIE
What is it? Don’t keep me in suspense…

MATT
It’s … a hooligan … I saw an evil hooligan frighten a bunch of elderly ladies!

ALBIE
Defenseless elderly ladies?

MATT
Yes, defenseless elderly ladies!

ALBIE
Bloomin’ heck, Matt! We’ve got to do something.

MATT
I agree, but I wouldn’t know where to start.

ALBIE
You can start by telling me where this happened.

MATT
I was…
MATT fans himself and begins to wheeze.

ALBIE
Focus Matt, focus! Where did it happen?

MATT
The Library! That’s right – the Library!

ALBIE springs up and begins to run.

EXT. A ROAD – CONTINUOUS

ALBIE rushes along the street, followed by MATT. They take a short cut through some back gardens, jumping fences along the way.

INT. A LIBRARY – SHORTLY AFTER

ROGER BLUNDER a forgetful hooligan terrorises two elderly ladies.

ALBIE, closely followed by MATT, rushes towards ROGER, but suddenly stops in his tracks.

MATT
What is is? What’s the matter?

ALBIE
That’s not just any old hooligan, that’s Roger Blunder!

MATT
Who’s Roger Blunder?

ALBIE
Who’s Roger Blunder? Who’s Roger Blunder? Only the most forgetful hooligan in the universe!

MATT
Blinkin’ knickers, Albie! We’re going to need some help if we’re going to stop the most forgetful hooligan in the universe!

ALBIE
You can say that again.

MATT
Blinkin’ knickers, Albie! We’re going to need some help if we’re going to stop the most forgetful hooligan in the universe!

ALBIE
I’m going to need candlesticks, lots of candlesticks.

Roger turns and sees Albie and Matt. He grins an evil grin.

ROGER
Albie Jones, we meet again!

MATT
You’ve met?

ALBIE
Yes. It was a long, long time ago…

EXT. A PARK – BACK IN TIME

A young ALBIE is sitting in a park listening to some trance music, when suddenly a dark shadow casts over him.

He looks up and sees ROGER. He takes off his headphones.

ROGER
Would you like some wine gums?

ALBIE’s eyes light up, but then he studies ROGER more closely, and looks uneasy.

ALBIE
I don’t know, you look kind of forgetful.

ROGER
Me? No. I’m not forgetful. I’m the least forgetful hooligan in the world.

ALBIE
Wait, you’re a hooligan?

ALBIE runs away, screaming.

INT. A LIBRARY – PRESENT DAY

ROGER
You were a coward then, and you are a coward now.

MATT
(To ALBIE) You ran away?
ALBIE
(To MATT) I was a young child. What was I supposed to do?
ALBIE turns to ROGER.

ALBIE
I may have run away from you then, but I won’t run away this time!
ALBIE runs away.

He turns back and shouts.

ALBIE
I mean, I am running away, but I’ll be back – with candlesticks.

ROGER
I’m not scared of you.

ALBIE
You should be.

INT. A SWEET SHOP – LATER THAT DAY

ALBIE and MATT walk around searching for something.

ALBIE
I feel sure I left my candlesticks somewhere around here.

MATT
Are you sure? It does seem like an odd place to keep deadly candlesticks.

ALBIE
You know nothing Matt Humble.

MATT
We’ve been searching for ages. I really don’t think they’re here.

Suddenly, ROGER appears, holding a pair of candlesticks.

ROGER
Looking for something?

MATT
Crikey, Albie, he’s got your candlesticks.

ALBIE
Tell me something I don’t already know!

MATT
The earth’s circumference at the equator is about 40,075 km.

ALBIE
I know that already!

MATT
I’m afraid of dust.

ROGER
(appalled) Dude!

While ROGER is looking at MATT with disgust, ALBIE lunges forward and grabs his deadly candlesticks. He wields them, triumphantly.

ALBIE
Prepare to die, you forgetful aubergine!

ROGER
No please! All I did was frighten a bunch of elderly ladies!

JENNY enters, unseen by any of the others.

ALBIE
I cannot tolerate that kind of behaviour! Those elderly ladies were defenceless! Well now they have a defender – and that’s me! Albie Jones defender of innocent elderly ladies.

ROGER
Don’t hurt me! Please!

ALBIE
Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t use these candlesticks on you right away!

ROGER
Because Albie, I am your father.

ALBIE looks stunned for a few moments, but then collects himself.

ALBIE
No you’re not!

ROGER
Ah well, it had to be worth a try.

ROGER tries to grab the candlesticks but ALBIE dodges out of the way.

ALBIE
Who’s the daddy now? Huh? Huh?

Unexpectedly, ROGER slumps to the ground.

MATT
Did he just faint?

ALBIE
I think so. Well that’s disappointing. I was rather hoping for a more dramatic conclusion, involving my deadly candlesticks.

ALBIE crouches over ROGER’s body.

MATT
Be careful, Albie. It could be a trick.

ALBIE
No, it’s not a trick. It appears that… It would seem… Roger Blunder is dead!

ALBIE
What?

ALBIE
Yes, it appears that I scared him to death.

MATT claps his hands.

MATT
So your candlesticks did save the day, after all.

JENNY steps forward.

JENNY
Is it true? Did you kill the forgetful hooligan?

ALBIE
Jenny how long have you been…?

JENNY puts her arm around ALBIE.

JENNY
Long enough.

ALBIE
Then you saw it for yourself. I killed Roger Blunder.

JENNY
Then the elderly ladies are safe?

ALBIE
It does seem that way!

A crowd of vulnerable elderly ladies enter, looking relived.

JENNY
You are their hero.

The elderly ladies bow to ALBIE.

ALBIE
There is no need to bow to me. I seek no worship. The knowledge that Roger Blunder will never frighten elderly ladies ever again, is enough for me.

JENNY
You are humble as well as brave! And I think that makes up for hitting your mother with a feather. It does in my opinion!

One of the elderly ladies passes ALBIE a healing ring

JENNY
I think they want you to have it, as a symbol of their gratitude.

ALBIE
I couldn’t possibly.
Pause.

ALBIE
Well, if you insist. It could come in handy when I go to the Doline tomorrow. With my friend Matt. It is dangerous and only for brave people and a healing ring could come in handy.

ALBIE takes the ring.

ALBIE
Thank you.
The elderly ladies bow their heads once more, and leave.

ALBIE turns to JENNY.

ALBIE
Does this mean you want me back?

JENNY
Oh, Albie, of course I want you back!
ALBIE smiles for a few seconds, but then looks defiant.

ALBIE
Well you can’t have me.

JENNY
WHAT?

ALBIE
You had no faith in me. You had to see my scare a hooligan to death before you would believe in me. I don’t want a lover like that. And I am going to the Doline and I may not be back!

JENNY
But…

ALBIE
Please leave. I want to spend time with the one person who stayed with me through thick and thin – my best friend, Matt.

MATT grins.

JENNY
But…

MATT
You heard the gentleman. Now be off with you. Skidaddle! Shoo!

JENNY
Albie?

ALBIE
I’m sorry Jenny, but I think you should skidaddle.
JENNY leaves.

MATT turns to ALBIE.

MATT
Did you mean that? You know … that I’m your best friend?

ALBIE
Of course you are!
The two walk off arm in arm.

Suddenly MATT stops.

MATT
When I said I’m afraid of dust, you know I was just trying to distract the hooligan don’t you?

(With thanks to random story generator for this comment)

Albie looked at the soft feather in his hands and felt happy.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his silent surroundings. He had always loved haunting the village near the doline with its few, but faithful inhabitants. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel happiness.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Ma. He felt his mood drop. Ma was ambitious and a mean-spirited bossy boots.

Albie gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was an impulsive, kind-hearted, beer drinker. His friends saw him as an amusing foolish clown. But he was kind-hearted and once, he had even brought a brave baby bird back from the brink of death.

But not even an impulsive person who had once brought a brave baby bird back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Ma had in store today.

The inclement brooding silence teased like a sitting praying mantis, making Albie anticipate the worst.

As Albie stepped outside and Ma came closer, he could see the mean glint in her eye.

Ma glared with all the wrath of 9 thoughtless hurt hippo. She said, in hushed tones, “I disown you and I want you to leave.”

Albie looked back, even more nervous and still fingering the soft feather. “Ma, please don’t boss me. I am going to the doline,” he replied.

They looked at each other with conflicted feelings, like two deep donkeys chatting at a very funny farewell.

Suddenly, Ma lunged forward and tried to punch Albie in the face. Quickly, Albie grabbed the soft feather and brought it down on Ma’s skull.

Ma’s skinny ear trembled and her short legs wobbled. She looked excited, her emotions raw like a rabblesnatching, rare rock.

Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Ma was dead.

Albie went back inside and had himself a cold beer.

Inquisitive Bert
A Short Story
by trove flacy
Bert had always loved rambling Fish Inn with its boiled boarders. It was a place where he felt happiness.

He was an inquisitive, depressed, tea drinker with skinny ears and tall sheep. His friends saw him as a moaning, mashed monster. Once, he had even saved a nasty old lady that was stuck in a drain. That’s the sort of man he was.

Bert walked over to the window and reflected on his brooding surroundings. The rain hammered like jumping dog.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Mater . Mater was a bigoted flower with attractive ears.

Bert gulped. He was not prepared for Mater.

As Bert stepped outside and Mater came closer, he could see the lovely smile on her face.

Mater glared with all the wrath of 1553 honest hilarious hippo. She said, in hushed tones, “I hate you and I want information.”

Bert looked back, even more ecstatic and still fingering the new-fangled car. “Mater, I own the inn,” he replied.

They looked at each other with annoyed feelings, like two delicious, damaged donkey laughing at a very free house sale, which had piano music playing in the background and two sanguine uncles shouting to the beat.

Bert regarded Mater’s attractive ear. “I feel the same way!” revealed Bert with a delighted grin.

Mater looked puzzled, her emotions blushing like a loud, little letter box.

Then Mater came inside for a nice cup of tea.

THE END

“She found the entrance, you say?”

“I am afraid so. I am sorry indeed to say that this is the case.”

“How could she have found the way in? Where were the guards? And who is she who would dare to enter the Doline?”

“It’s been so long … I think the guards got lazy. And who can blame them … so many years they stood at their post and nobody even trying to find the way in. I think they got tired of waiting for something to happen. And as to who it is … all I have heard is she is a traveller and not anyone from the Village. A traveller from far off parts, I have heard.”

“Dearie me … always the way, isn’t it? Heads are going to roll of course and I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes. What’s going to happen now?”

“It’s very hard to get someone out once they have found the way in. That’s a well known truth.”

“It is indeed. Indeed it is.”

“What we all need now”, Liz was thinking out loud, “Is a more relaxed approach. We should stop trying to be proper clever writers and just blather.”

“If it’s supposed to be relaxed blather, why did you just fix three typo’s?” asked Finnley, the annoying maid, who had once again been peering over Elizabeth’s shoulder, looking for something to find fault with.

“Oh come on, that’s a bit much, Liz!” Finnley retorted, accidentally on purpose slopping Liz’s tea into her ashtray, knowing a pet hate of hers was a wet ashtray.

“Do be careful, Finnely! snapped Liz.

“Just taking a relaxed approach to being a maid, Ma’am,” she replied rudely with a flamboyant gesture with her feather duster, which whacked Liz smartly across the back of the head as she swanned out of the room with her nose in the air.

The door bell rang and Finnley left Liz confused by the present the maid had brought her from Bali. It was the statue of a man in a strange position. Liz had no clue what he was doing, but the statue was so big she could imaging using it as a stool with small silk cushion to make it more comfortable. It was made of wood. Liz touched the head of the statue and felt a momentary lapse.

“hum!”
Liz started. “Oh you’re back”, she said to Finnley with a smile. Finnley looked at her suspiciously.

“Did you take something while I was answering at the door?”

“Oh! right the door. Who was that?”

“Journalists. They are here for the documentary movie.”

The fleeting state of bliss was gone. “Journalists? For me?”

“For who else?” asked Finnley, raising her eyes. “Godfrey?”

The rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

Margoritt showed Glynis to a small area, partitioned off from the main room; a narrow bed, a tiny window to the outside and and a simple wooden shelf.

“You’ll be wanting some privacy,” she said. “And something dry to wear,” she added, handing Glynis a dress, plain in shape and made from a soft woven fabric, pearly spheres woven into a dark purple background.

The second person to give me something to wear, she mused.

The fabric was amazing. It made Glynis think of stars at night and the way you could never see to the end of the sky. It felt both reassuring and terrifying all at the same time.

There is magic in the hands that wove this, she thought, hesitant though to voice her thoughts to Margoritt, however kindly she seemed.

“A master weaver has made this!” she said instead. “Was it you?”

“No, not I … but you are right, it was made by a master … as you can no doubt see, it doesn’t fit me any longer. I’ve had it sitting there going to waste for many years and am glad to put it to use. It doesn’t cover your head like the other did, but really there is no need here.” Margoritt smiled. “Go, get changed. Come out when you are ready and I will have some tea and cake for you. Then you can meet the others properly.”

“Is it okay? hissed Sunny in a loud whisper when they were alone, anxiously hopping from one foot to another.

“Yes, i think so … I’ve been very careful,” Glynis reached in her pouch and gently pulled out an egg.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it … almost golden… for sure it must be the gift the man from the market promised me in my dream … the way it just sat there on the path … lucky I did not stand on it.” She stroked the egg gently.

“Sorry about all this, little one,” she said softly to the egg. “I wonder what creature you are inside this shell … and what safe place can we hide you till you are ready to come out of there?”

“I can sit on it of course,” said Sunny. “It will be my honour and privilege to assist.”

Eleri was entranced by the myriad shades of purple in the pouring rain; already soaked to the skin she made no attempt to shelter. She wafted around with her face upturned and arms aloft, swaying and stumbling and sometimes staggering as the wind buffeted her in between the darkly glistening tree trunks.

Never before had she seen so many shades of the colour purple!

Fox woke up in the mud. He felt thirsty and confused, not knowing where he was or when it was, except that it was night time. He looked around him and despite the darkness he was seeing clearly. He was in a small glade, surrounded by tall trees. The grass had a strange greenish glow and seemed to float around like tentacles trying to seize whatever passed near.

An emotion rose from his heart and jumped outside of him before he could feel it. It had a colour. it was blue and had the shape of a drop of jelly, darker in its center. Fox looked, fascinated, as it taunted the blades of grass. His heart jumped as a longer tentacle almost caught the drop, that’s when he knew he had to take it back. He couldn’t let it out into the world like that.

Not with the others so close.

Fox felt puzzled at the thought. What others was it referring to? He heard someone crying, it sounded like someone miserable. He felt something fall on his hands, droplets of water, and realised he was the one crying. He stood up and was surprised by the height. He found a little pond and looked at his reflection. The lonesome face of a troll was looking back at him.

Am I dreaming?

At that moment the trap in the ceiling opened revealing the dark attic.

“Is that smoke coming from the attic?” asked Godfrey, suddenly worried someone had started a fire up there.

“It’s looking more like mist,” said Liz who had suddenly forgotten about her unborn babies. “You know, in those mystery novels they add some when they want to create an atmosphere of suspens.”

Godfrey looked doubtful as the mist was continuing to pour down from the attic in slow motion, like the harbinger of a darker secret. A loud noise made them jump. A metallic ladder, apparently attached on the attic’s floor which was the corridor’s ceiling, unfolded quickly. It stopped just before hitting the floor.

They all looked at each others, waiting for someone to say something. Anything.

“Go have a look, Godfrey,” said Liz.
“Shouldn’t it be Walter? He’s from the police after all, if there is danger he should be the one to take the lead.”

Liz looked a bit uncomfortable.
“I’m not sure,” she said in a hum. “There might be some dark secrets I don’t want to reveal to outsiders.”

“Are you coming or what?” Said a voice coming from the attic.

The sack got heavier with each step, as the old abandoned characters grew in anticipation, sending long tendrils through the loose weave of the hessian. The extra weight didn’t slow Roberto down, in fact he felt invigorated and inspired with something more interesting to do than pander to the others in that madhouse of Elizabeth.

One particularly persistent shoot near the top of the sack kept winding itself around Roberto’s neck, and when he unwound it repeatedly, it would jiggle as he walked and poke him in the eye, before curling itself back around his neck.

I wonder which character you will turn out to be when we get you planted, he admonished the tendril goodnaturedly, for it was a gentle twining around his neck, and playful.

As the gardener walked, appreciating the puffy white clouds scudding across the baby blue sky and the bird twittering and swooping, he felt a sense of purpose and depth that had been missing from his life in recent years. It had been entertaining at the madhouse, but only superficially. He had felt destined for more than raking leaves and pruning roses. Now he had a mission, and felt lighter at the same time as feeling very much more substantial.

The twining tendril round his neck suddenly thrust our several more pale green leaves, obscuring Roberto’s vision entirely. He was chuckling affectionately as he fell into the sink hole, and as he fell, the sack burst open, scattering the characters willy nilly into the vast underground cavern that he found himself in.

“I had another vivid dream last night, Sunny. I dreamed of a man I met when i was selling my potions in the market place in town. He was chasing a little red fox and I gave him some potion … “

“You dreamed of a fox? That’s a very good omen and fortuitously also reminds me of a joke.
What do you call a fox with a carrot in each ear?
Anything you want as he can’t hear you!”

Glynis smiled reluctantly.

“No, that’s what happened. I’ve not got to the dream part yet.”

“My apologies,” said Sunny, nudging her ear gently from his perch on her shoulder. “Please continue.”

“Anyway the man from the market came to me in my dream and thanked me. He said his wife was well now. He said to look for a gift in the heartwoods.”

“Excellent dream!” said Sunny. “I adore gifts. I will keep my eyes open and hope we find it poste haste. How much further is it now, anyway?”

“Another few days travel to the fringe of the heartwoods. According to the map, that’s where the first X is.”

They continued in silence, glad of each other’s company on the journey.

Glynis had been sad to leave the Bakers and more than a few tears were shed on parting They tried to get her to stay but it was without much conviction for Glynis had shown them the map and, though plain folk, they had sound instincts and knew when something had to be.

“Any time you want, Girl,” said Mr Baker gruffly, “you’ll find a home here. You hear me? And make sure you keep in touch.”

And Glynis nodded, unable to find the words to thank him for his kindness.

And Mrs Baker had made her a new burka. She’d stayed up nights sewing to surprise Glynnis. It shimmered, sometimes green and sometimes blue depending on where the light fell and it felt like silk to the touch. Glynis thought it was the most pretty thing she had ever seen.

“You’ve a lovely heart, Lass, and anyone who’s worth a penny will see that and not those scales on your face.”

It was the first time either of the Bakers had mentioned her appearance and for a moment Glynis was rendered speechless.

But not so, Sunny.

“Knock, knock!” he cackled loudly. “Oh come on! It’s a good one!”
“Who’s there?” said Glynis softly.
“Dragon!”
“Dragon who?”
“Dragon your feet again?”

Eleri’s eyes began to feel heavy and she blinked, trying to resist the increasingly strong urge to nod off to sleep, as a gust of wind rustled the branches overhead allowing the moonlight to illuminate something that looked very much like dragon scales. Eleri blinked again and shook her head slightly to shake the illusion back into some kind of realistic image. The sudden wind had dropped and the trees were motionless, the path below them dark. It was impossible now to even see what had looked like dragon scales in the brief flash of moonlight. All was still and silent.

With nothing to see in the darkness and nothing to entertain her, Eleri’s mind started to wander, wondering if her grandmother being a dragon (as her father had often said) meant that she was one quarter dragon herself. It occurred to her that she very rarely thought of the dragon that was her grandmother, and wondered why she was thinking of her now. She had been a strong woman, who would fight tooth and nail to get what she wanted, always on the move wanting to get her teeth into a new project, leaving discarded suitors along the wayside as she swept along, grandly announcing to all and sundry, “Do you know who I am?”

Formidable armed with a rigid crocodile (possibly baby dragon skin) handbag and matching shoes, stately and considerably girthy notwithstanding the stiff corset, her grandmother was not one to easily ignore. Dressed in dragon scale twinsets, in no nonsense crimplene navy blue and white, many were quite charmed by her forthright manner and the spirited ~ some would say arrogant ~ toss of her peroxide lacquered waves. Others were not so enchanted, and found her imperious manner unpleasant.

It was a simple matter of teeth, when it came to disabling her. The difference was remarkable. There was no actual reason why her lack of teeth should change her so ~ she still had the matching shoes and handbags, but the regal stance and the arrogant tilt of her chin was gone. Not having any teeth made her seem shy and evasive, and she mumbled, saying as little as possible. She lost the power of manipulation along with her teeth, and although nobody really understood why, many wished they had thought of hiding her teeth years ago. It was such a simple solution, in the scale of things.

And the moral of that story is, Eleri concluded with a wry but not too dentally challenged smile, Toothless Dragons Don’t Bite.