Table of Contents
For Deb,
for telling the right anecdote at the right time
HOT THOUGHTS
Danny Dragonbreath came awake with a yelp and took a swing at his alarm clock. He missedmissed againsucceeded in knocking it onto the floor, where it beeped at him sidewaysand finally had to accept that he was awake.
Unnngggghh...* he said, and groped around for the relentlessly beeping alarm clock.
Eventually he found it and turned it off, then staggered around his bedroom until he found a T-shirt. He put the shirt on backward, wondered why the tag kept poking him in the neck, and took it off again.
Mornings were not Dannys strong suit.
Finally he got the T-shirt the right way around, if inside-out, and clomped down the stairs for breakfast. He could smell bacon cooking. It smelled wonderful.
His mother was sitting at the kitchen table staring grimly into her cup of coffee. His father was cooking.
Good morning, Danny! said Mr. Dragonbreath, who was a morning person.
Mrrgghhh, said Mrs. Dragonbreath, who was not.
Morning, Dad. Err... morning, Mom... Danny dropped into his seat at the kitchen table. The smells were making his mouth water.
Mr. Dragonbreath pulled a strip of bacon out of the skillet, eyed it, and breathed a tiny puff of flame on it. It sizzled.
Danny watched enviously. Despite his best efforts, he still couldnt breathe fire.
As if his father could read Dannys thoughts, Mr. Dragonbreath turned around, sliding eggs and bacon onto a plate. So, Danny! Any luck with the fire-breathing? Want to try cooking your own?
No, Dad, mumbled Danny. He slid down a little in his chair.
Oh, come on... His dad held out a strip of bacon. Think hot thoughts.
Danny stood, took a deep breath, and tried to think hot thoughts, whatever that meantdeserts, firecrackers, jalapeo peppers. He exhaled vigorously, but all he got was a vague ashy taste in his mouth.
Mr. Dragonbreath frowned. Have you been practicing?
Yes!
His father sighed. Eggs, dear? he asked Mrs. Dragonbreath.
Mrs. Dragonbreath growled something, which may have included the word no.
Now dear, you know that breakfast is the most important meal of the day....
Mrs. Dragonbreath looked up from her coffee, focused her eyes with some difficulty, and hissed like a cobra. (Cobras are also traditionally not morning people.)
Mr. Dragonbreath, who had been happily married to Dannys mother for a number of years, carefully poured her another cup of coffee. He did not say anything more about the most important meal of the day.
Instead he turned his attention back to Danny. Along with breakfast, Danny got a full twentyminute pep talk on applying himself, interspersed with what were probably meant to be inspiring stories of reptiles pulling themselves up by their bootstraps and Making Something of Themselves. Mr. Dragonbreaths boss had brought in three motivational speakers in the last month to talk to all the employees at the antacid bottling plant, and Danny was suffering the fallout.
The really unfair bit was that Danny was applying himself, at least to breathing fire. He practiced diligently every evening. He used to practice during math class, but stopped after his math teacher called an ambulance last month. (She thought he was hyperventilating.) It was a shame, because as far as Danny was concerned, fire-breathing practice was the only thing math class was good for.
But no matter how often or where Danny practiced, he just couldnt get the knack of breathing fire. Thinking hot thoughts, visualizing his mouth as a flamethrower, gargling with kerosene twice a weeknone of it did any good.
It was impossible to explain this to his father, however, who believed the key to success was more inspirational stories.
Finally he cut inSorry, Dad, gotta catch the bus!
Oh. Right. Have a good day at school!
His mother aimed a kiss in his general direction, then went back to her coffee.
Thank goodness for the bus, Danny thought, grabbing his backpack and running for the door. Otherwise he would probably still have been trapped at the table, listening to another story of a dragon who had started out with nothing but two poker chips and a bent spoon and had gone on to build a hoard the size of Los Angeles.
SNORKELBATS
Danny stood at the bus stop and waited, which is what one generally does at bus stops.
Under normal circumstances he would have been restless. Danny hated standing still for anything. It was just dragonish nature. Dragons slept on their hoards, they fought knights, they occasionally flew around terrorizing peasants, but they didnt usually stand still. (Its worth noting that Dannys parents had never terrorized a peasant in their lives, and Dannys mother always volunteered to bring goodies to the school bake sale, but really, it was the principle of the thing.)
While he waited, Danny thought about the dream hed had last night. (It certainly beat thinking about the lecture hed gotten this morning.) It had been the most wonderful dream... something about a pirate ship and Captain Dragonbreath. Wendell had been in it, he definitely remembered that...