Cavernous Appetite

I am so tooth-achingly sick of virgins!

Who thought this was a good idea? This isn’t tender meat – there’s hardly any meat on the bones! Not fattened up properly, not raised on proper feed, not ripened, and dressed up in enough extras that peeling them isn’t even worth the drama. And the screaming! Can’t they make their tribute fall asleep beforehand, so I don’t have to do it all myself?

Well, I’ve just about reached my limit. I’m not getting fat myself, and this wasn’t the bargain that I struck with the town’s founder. Give me fat tribute, I don’t destroy the town or treat it like a dovecote. Fair, right?

Hmph. Seems to me that the spirit of the deal is dead, while the town’s burgher is only adhering to the letter of the contract. Not a terribly good idea when dealing with a dragon that’s lived longer than the country’s founding, has all its wits about it, and keeps copies of contracts in a nice dry environment.

Mmm, burgers…

I think it’s time for a proper grocery run.

I locked up my cave first, and shooed the last three virgins out. It gets crowded in my home, and the last thing I need is the girls getting comfortable playing princess with my pretty baubles. Besides, they were getting sick of the grub I could rustle up. Nutritious, yes, but not so great for those trying to keep some kind of figure, and though nutty, it gets old fast. I heard some oversized ferret is trying out the “slimy yet satisfying” tagline one continent over, but the girls aren’t buying it.

Luckily I’m an omnivore, but I’m quite tired of grass.

I’d forgotten how much fun it was, gathering speed, clawing my way up the hill, snapping my wings open at the crest, swooping into town, jaws agape, ready to mow things down. They’d planted a forest on the downhill slope; like that would stop me? I just bounded over it, wings cupping sweet air, and smashed myself into the middle of town in no time.

Did you ever wonder why the town hall was so big? I’ll give you a hint: it’s not for the town’s citizens to gather. You can put sturdy shutters over the large clerestory windows in case of storms or brigands, but glass is so fun to crash through when you’re in a lather, and starving.

Ah, the buffet was open, though they weren’t expecting self service. Not naked either, so I’ll have to peel off the casings yet again. Such stupid little wieners, thinking they can cheat me.

Mmm, wieners…

Council was in session, and I was able to easily pin the burgher to his gilded chair. A thousand thoughts went through my head, and most of them were recipes – Human en Croute, Human Under (Shattered) Glass, Human on a Board, Human Braised in Their Own Fear Sweat. It’s been a long time since I’ve treated myself.

The burgher was nice and plump, just the way I like them. I admit, I enjoyed his squirming. I scratched the relevant contract clauses in the table for the rest of them to peruse, then took off down to the bakery to get some dessert. Human in a Coffin is an old dish, but it checks out. Meat pasties, if you will.

I grabbed a cow or two on the way back, because it’s been a while since I indulged in an Atkins diet.

I was gnawing on a hind leg when I noticed the remaining council decided on violence. It didn’t take long to fire up the grill, but barbecue is delicious when you use hardwood, and those oak trees on the far side of the hill were just the right size. Convenient, since knights in armor are rotisseries on the hoof – er, foot.

Mmm, barbecue…

The next sortie was the pacification committee, begging me to move. Not until I got the old bill paid in full, I’m afraid, with cancellation fees and interest rates and all sorts of fines for late payments. I would take cattle or horse in lieu, though, because at least they knew how to fatten those up properly.

I feasted well for many, many hundreds of years.

But eventually my own dining habits caught up with me. I’d outgrown my lovely cave.

The world had changed, of course, but I’ve kept up with technology. Trebuchets, tanks, fighter jets, nuclear missiles, I didn’t want to end up a shish kebab via inattention.

Mmm, shish kebabs…

So I pecked away carefully at my oversize keyboard, and had my collection shipped to the New World. Myself included, because you can ship anything with enough money. And the town had plenty of it, and was rather glad to be rid of me. I took my copy, with PAID IN FULL scrawled across it in red ink, as a souvenir.

The New World was quite an eye opener.

Caves are spacious, but sold at a premium. Most are used as tourist attractions, can you imagine? Perhaps I should have done a bit more research into accommodations, but purchasing a few hundred acres in the middle of nowhere wasn’t so bad. Bear and elk are very tasty, with an occasional moose thrown in. But I crave variety, and the first forays into the civilized area were awful.

Mmm, offal…

I developed a system. I worked on shapeshifting, and becoming a big-game trophy hunter worked a treat. Feral boar, nuisance alligators, pythons in the swamps, overpopulated deer.

But a circuit needs places to land, and that’s when I learned of the most dangerous game.

The HOA.

Damn Karens. And their nasty yippy dogs! I pay good money, and you tell me how I must live my life, and fine me at the drop of a hat for any deviation from the contract?

That’s MY job!

So, they want to play games? Try to out-dragon a dragon? Snip and scratch, make conformity their end goal? Game on!

Mmm, game…

I do get a hankering for the old meat.

Not virginal, but not fattened up, either. Silicone-infused junk food, though the taste grows on you. And the dogs are more hair than nourishment, but they work well as internal sponges.

Mmm, sponge cake...

And no one seems to care when they go missing, though they’re replaced rather alarmingly fast. No matter, my appetite is vast.

So is their stupidity, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles.

Mmm, cookies…