The Dragon's Scales

“THREE YEARS I'VE been waiting, when Torquil promised he’d return them in three days. I’m not waiting three more days to get back what’s mine!” The dragon punctuated his remarks with a smoky snort and a lashing tail.

- Pamela Love

I sighed. This wasn’t Mr. Finnegan, the leprechaun scheduled to pick up a basket holding a dozen pounds of extra-lucky four-leaf clovers. (My boss, Torquil, had weighed the clovers before he left.) Should’ve looked before opening the door, Althea, I told myself.

Not that it mattered. The dragon’s huge, scaly wings looked plenty strong enough to knock down the door (and maybe the whole building) with one flap aimed in the wrong direction. Its claws and teeth were equally impressive. “May I help you?” I’d asked politely, the way I’d been taught. (And in this case, very politely.)

To be fair, the dragon had been every bit as courteous at first. “Years ago, Torquil the Wise borrowed my scales and forgot to return them. However, I require them back now.”

“I’m afraid he’ll be away for the next few days, but if you’d like to leave a message—”

That’s when the dragon began complaining loudly about how long he’d been waiting already. No, he didn’t want to leave a message. He wanted to leave with his scales. Immediately.

Handing them over would be the sensible thing to do. So why didn’t I? Not because I was scared I’d lose my job. While it’s true I needed the work, being fired by Torquil had to be better than getting “fired” by a dragon.