Ring of Fyre

"Hold still, Bernard, I can barely see up your bottom when you keep wriggling like that!"

"Oh, shut your noise, woman! It itches something fierce! It burns! Ooooh, I don't 'arf want to peel all my skin off!"

Bernard bent over with his hands on the sofa cushion, trousers and Y-fronts puddled unsexily at his ankles.

Edith squatted behind him with the magnifying glass out of her crochet basket in one hand, and a pair of tweezers in the other. She squinted, her eye magnified comically.

"There's nothing there, you silly old coot!"

"Look again!" Bernard insisted, his moustache bristling. "I can't look for myself, can I? Do you expect me to bend over in front of the pharmacist like this?!"

"Be quiet," Edith prodded his left buttock "Or you will have to go to the pharmacist, and see how you like that.... Wait!!"

"What is it!" shouted Bernard, "What's wrong with my jacksie, dammit!"

"I think I see something! Yes! I can see... hang on..."

Awe had washed over Edith's features. Shaking, she reached out with the tweezers and gripped something tiny poking from Bernard's bottom. She pulled. Bernard yowled.

"What the hell are you doing, woman!"

"Drat!" Edith had lost her grasp on whatever it was. "Hush, you big baby. You asked me to do this," Edith prodded him again and dived back once more with her trusty tweezers.

Bernard's hollering competed with Edith's excited chatter. "I've got it! Oh, eureka, Bernard, I've jolly well got it haven't I!"

"You reek-a yourself," Bernard replied rudely and quite ungratefully.

Edith held it up. Bernard peered back over his shoulder and gaped in shock. There, pinced and dangling by it's spiny tail, was a bright and scaly little dragon. It had no wings and no legs, but they knew it was a dragon because it whipped side to side as they watched, and let loose a little flame.

"No wonder it burned," Edith remarked.

"And I thought it was that curry," Bernard said faintly.

That, ladies and gents, is the first ever recorded instance of Pinwyrms.

Bernard bunched his hands into fists. "Get back in there with those tweezers," he growled. "I can feel another one."

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I know you were singing it.

Word count: 366

(NB. This excludes the title, subtitle, and author's note.)

Submitted on Tuesday 1st October at 21:02

The story behind the story: I often write dark stuff, dystopia, depressing reflections on the human condition. People do terrible things to other people, and we are probably all alone in the universe, and will die alone. Sometimes, I need a palate cleanser, and this is it. I don't care if it's any good, it can be rubbish, but I loved writing it. This is true love, to me, more so than grand romantic gestures.

Also:

Hugh Laurie shouting, "Sounds a bit rude, doesn't it! Sounds a bit like BUM!" never gets old.

A Year of Stories: I'm writing (and submitting, here) a story every day this year. This continues my 275 daily microfiction story streak since 1st January.

ONLY NINETY-ONE DAYS TO GO!

Please consider lending your support to the other creators on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They're putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

Thank you

Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed!

Thank you to those who leave feedback/comments. I'm going to be slower to respond to each one and reciprocate the reads, as life gets in the way... but I'll catch up in a week or two.

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

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Thank you again!