[flash fiction; 378 words]

“How are you?”

“Oh, I’m doing all right,” the miniature dragon said sitting in the center of a Black-eyed-susan and cleaning the pollen off of his nose. “Just had a drink of nectar. Hunting is thirsty work.” He stretched his delicate peridot wings.

“Yeah?” the Sasquatch said sitting down on a rock, propping his feet on another and leaning against a tree and putting his hands behind his head. “‘Cause I don’t see too many flowers in this field.”

“No. We eat bugs not flowers. The bugs drink the-”

The Sasquatch grunted. “Your kin further west sure lit up the prairie.”

The dragon let out a little snort of smoke. “Yes, grasses get very dry at the height of summer. The bronze dragons survive just fine. The fire grass their prey need comes back in abundance after a good burn. Fire grass is not really a grass at all but a monocotyledonous plant that-”

“I hear that the bronzes are bigger ‘n you green easties.”

The green dragon shook his head and smiled. “No. We are about the same size. Nice try though, but jokes about size don’t irritate me. The bronzes are more fire resistant and we are more water resistant.”

The Sasquatch grabbed the dragon by the tail and tossed him in the creek.

The dragon flew out and set the Sasquatch’s face on fire. The Sasquatch rolled around on the ground and put his face out. The entire time he was laughing uproariously.

The dragon perched on a branch and studied the claws of his right forepaw. His emerald scales sparkled in the sun and his yellow lizard eyes narrowed as he tried to understand his friend’s humor. Water dripped from the horns on his head.

“Ah, wee beastie, I do love teasing you. The joke’s on me this time. I have to go back to camp with a bald face. And live in shame until my beautiful locks return.”

The dragon grinned, showing his pointed hunting teeth. “That’s the third time you’ve lost fur to me this year! Stop trying to irritate me.”

“Trying?”

The dragon flew off in search of some delectable bugs.

“I’d say I’ve succeeded,” the Sasquatch called after his old friend and then sauntered back to camp.


miniature

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