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The four members of the town’s most-baddest gang skidded to a halt and began to sniff the air in a bid to track down the target of their vigilante-themed violence.
Rattling the recreation ground fence, Tyler eyeballed the resident young dragons. “Have you seen George?” he snarled, flexing his ridiculously-swollen biceps as he yanked menacingly at the mesh. “We know he went past here, off into the green bit! If you don’t tell me everything you know, I’ll... I’ll...”
The youngsters all looked at their feet. “Er... the bush, again,” grunted one, nudging his head in its direction. “Didn’t you say they were going to dig it up? So he couldn’t... you know?”
From the other side of the path, George slowly emerged from his leafy youth surveillance spot and lifted his arm to give a twinkly-fingered wave. “Um... hello!” he quipped.
“OH, FOR FUCK...” Dylan turned to his gang. “Look!” he hissed under his breath. “He’s back! We... we were supposed to stalk him out into nature! It... it was supposed to be an out of bounds vigilante activity!” Bringing a claw to his forehead, he let out a groan. “I said, didn’t I, Tyler? I said you were all taking far too long in the toilet. There’s no need to polish your scales and claws for this sort of... You even forgot the sticks after everything we—” He stood bolt upright. “What’s that?” Dylan pointed towards some of the people who were now disappearing into the hills. “Is that...? Oh, my goodness! He’s only been illegally keeping exotic pets out here! Or farming them, maybe? Told you he wasn’t right! Classic weirdo behaviour!”
Now clear of the foliage bordering the play area, George exhaled deeply. How on earth could the humans be taking so long to escape from the ravenous dragons? Dawdling along in the sunshine? What were they doing? Taking photographs? Unbelievable!
By now, The Dragonville Massive had all begun to salivate heavily. “Ok, ok!” Dylan cast his gang a knowingly look. “I can see what you’re all thinking.” He swallowed down a mouthful of spit, then swiped dry his chin. “Alright, fine! As it is Gang Member Number One and Gang Member Number Two’s first week, as a special treat, we will have a quick snack before we get started on the Oody... UDPD business! Please note that this will not be a regular occurrence.” He focused on the figures fleeing into the distance. “Right, everyone! Five minutes of furious flesh-devouring – just five! I will be timing – and then it’s straight back to battering this fat weirdo.”
George looked up sharply. “I beg your pardon?!”
Staring towards their meaty targets, Dylan thrust out an arm. “All ready?” he snarled, doing his best to keep everyone spaced apart. “And remember to use the approved dismembering procedure; the one we spent two whole afternoons on! Full body attention! Full! I don’t want to see any lingering over... those areas; I won’t say which because I know I don’t need to – plus in case you haven’t noticed yet, those pink monkey things don’t seem to have any rear appendages. You can all do this, I know you can. And... four... two... one... and... CHAAARRRGGGE!”
“HALT!” George stepped out onto the path, causing the gang members to stutter to a standstill. Dramatically, he planted his hands on his hips. “LEAVE THE PEOPLE ALONE!”
“I might’ve known he’d have to spoil it!” moaned Dylan. “Sorry, guys. Weirdo-bashing vigilante bit now, snack later, if they haven’t all escaped, ok?”
Tuts sounded.
The gang leader squared up to George. “Ahem! Where was...? Oh, yeah. NOW THEN, GEORGIE PORGIE!” Dylan jabbed forward a grubby claw. “You do know you’re breaching your restraining order, don’t you? Setting foot within fifty metres of a takeaway! It’s open season on you!”
Instantly, George shook his head. “Haven’t the um... foggiest what you’re talking um... LEAVE THE PEOPLE ALONE! I demand you LEAVE THE PEOPLE ALONE!”
Dylan had now begun to circle. “By rights, you can be murdered on sight,” he snarled. “Poor old Mr Staphylokebabus and his six sons nearly died when you torched his shop. You’re just lucky they weren’t from Dragonville or you’d be locked up, not just exiled.”
“Exiled?!” George’s voice pitched. He looked furtively towards the figures he could see moving in the bushes nearby. “Me? Exiled? Are... are you mad?” He puffed out his cheeks. “A decent, upstanding member of the community? Literally, the only one, I might add. Ludicrous, ludicrous suggestion! Can’t trust a word from your lips! Anyway, as I was saying LEAVE THE PEOP—”
“Of course, you’re exiled!” Dylan frowned. “You know you are! You tried to appeal – represented yourself; what were you thinking? And then you sent that parcel to the judge’s house—”
“Allegedly!” scoffed George. “You know very well the forensics didn’t...” Suddenly he leaned forward towards Dylan. “Um... could we talk about this later?” he said quietly. “Get back to the...?” He nudged his nose towards the shaking leaves, then made a biting gesture. “Good for you, good for me?”
Dylan paused for a second, then gave a discreet nod. “Fine.”
George took a step back and composed himself. “Ahem.” He looked Dylan straight in the face. “LEAVE THE PEOPLE ALONE!” he exclaimed. “IF YOU WANT TO EAT THE PEOPLE, YOU’LL HAVE TO GO THROUGH ME!”
Dylan looked to his gang. “And four, two, one and...”
“RAAAAAAARRR!” The Dragonville Massive all lurched forward, their claws and teeth poised for some serious action.
George’s eyes flashed. An endearment opportunity and the chance to enact some sweet, sweet self-defence-based revenge? He had always known the decades of grunting and sweating in his spare bedroom would pay off eventually.
Leaping through the air, Tyler aimed his dagger-filled mouth somewhere just south of George’s stomach.
Fortunately, George was ready. In move learned from Dragon’s Health Magazine (this time, the erotic dance section) and until this point not debuted in public, he whipped off his poncho and flapped it out like a bullfighter’s cape.
With the unexpected image of George’s titillating torso imprinted in his mind and the material now wrapped tightly around him, Tyler, disorientated and very, very confused, spun in a frenzy, and then blasted out a jet of fire.
“AAAAARGH!”
“YOWWWWW!”
In a ball of flame, the two new members of The Dragonville Massive flung themselves to the ground and then began to roll around together in the mud.
“To the river!” shrieked one, frantically trying to pat out both his own tail and that of his associate. In a whoosh of yellow and orange, the steamy pair bolted off across a field leaving behind a most peculiar-smelling cloud of smoke and secretions.
Still fighting to untangle himself from the poncho, Tyler continued to yell. “Help! I’m stuck! And I’ve been sick! Hel—”
CLACK! George planted his knuckles cleanly on the part of the fabric that he guessed was obscuring Tyler’s nose.
“Oooooh!” The laboured breaths confirmed George’s fist had really hit the spot. “Owwwww!” Tyler was certainly going to feel that tomorrow. Dragging himself up, he began to zig-zag down the road, the signs of his brain-bleed hidden beneath his comical-looking straitjacket.
The snapping of vegetation filled the air. “YAHOO!” Dylan burst from a bush, an object dangling from his claws. “I caught one!” Pushing out his track-marked arm, he held aloft a bearded man with long hair who was wearing a pair of very damp cargo shorts. The proprietor of Farmer Fred’s feel-good, local, family, fair-trade, organic wholefoods store – Julian Pinkerton Smith.
“HELP!” screeched Julian, waving a shoeless foot adorned with toenails to rival Dylan’s. “Please don’t eat me! OH, MIGHTY LEN-TIL! OH, MIGHTY LEN-TIL! Please... please do something! I’m sorry this morning’s sacred offerings turned out to be past their sell-by-dates. I didn’t think deities could get food poisoning. Plus in my defence, dried foods can last literally forever; you... you probably already know that! Please... PLEASE SAVE ME!”
George stood there frozen. This was serious. Any human deaths were awful, obviously. But losing the one that ran his favourite ethical grocer? That would be particularly crushing. “What did I just say?” he demanded. “Leave um... LEAVE THE PEOPLE ALONE! People are not food. Dragons do not eat people. No people-eating.” There were only so many ways he could explain it without being patronising and this was two too many.
“But George,” snarled Dylan, “they do look delicious, don’t they?” He then looked more closely at Julian whose shorts were now dripping and lifted his chin. “Well, some of them look delicious, anyway.” He flicked his head towards a small group he could see hiding in the bushes.
George sighed loudly. “What part of ‘LEAVE THE PEOPLE ALONE!’ don’t you understand? Now let him go!”
“Yeah, let me go!” shouted Julian who Dylan was now suspending at arm’s length as though he was a shoe that had been trodden into dog poo. “I’m not delicious. I’m old – well, quite old – and I’m tough. And I’m a vegan, you know; I’m guaranteed to taste unpleasant, or be pretty bland at best. Find someone younger and tenderer. Try over there, behind that tree; there’s about six just waiting for you. Proper burger-fed fatties!”
George groaned at Julian’s unhelpful input and in particular, his failure to use a sugar-coated noun to describe the disgustingly obese. “I repeat,” he snapped, “put him down or I shall have to become rather cross!”
Dylan looked at George, then at the moist, hairy thing on the end of his claws. It didn’t look appetising, there was no denying it.
CRUNCH! Julian landed roughly on the grass and instantly scrambled off on his hands and knees into George’s spying bush.
“There!” exclaimed George. “We finally got—”
“Where the hell is my gang?” Dylan was now looking around, perplexed. “TYLER! NEW MEMBERS ONE AND TWO! Sorry, George. Just hold on a second!” Angrily, he lifted up the branches of a nearby bush and peered in. “Always flipping wandering off together!” He looked around a tree. “Cannot get the staff, cannot get the...” He returned to stand in front. “Um... apologies, George – actually, weren’t you wearing a big, white dress earlier? Oh, never mind. Er... it appears your Oody Poody kicking will have to be rescheduled due to employee absences etcetera. We’ll um... be in touch.” Muttering to himself, he began to walk off. “I’ll kill them! I’ll bloody-well kill...”
George blinked. That had fizzled out a bit prematurely. Apparently, his self-defence-based retribution towards the leader of The Dragonville Massive would have to wait. Unless...
“Um... going so soon, Dylan?” he called.
“Mmm. Stuff to do this afternoon. Weapons to sharpen. Mum’s linen to the laundrette. No rest for the wick—”
“I understand completely!” George cracked his knuckles. “And no doubt they’ll be missing you at home, won’t they? I’m sure your wife and sister is wondering – sorry! Did I say ‘is’? I meant ‘are’, because they are definitely two different...”
Dylan slowed. “What did you say?”
“Oh, and Dragonville’s most-baddest tail-brigade,” continued George, “they’ll be crying out for your firm hand, won’t...”
“I’m warning you—”
“And, of course, your mother! Lovely individual. Very accommodating by all account—”
“RAAAAARR!” The Dragonville Massive leader flung himself through the air, claws outstretched, jaws agape.
“LEAVE THE PEOPLE ALONE!” George spun and thwacked his aggressor smartly across the side of the head with his flailing tail.
With a thud, Dylan hit the ground, groaned... then passed out.
Standing over the unconscious thug, George knew he had made the right decision – you could wait years for an ingratiation / vengeance combo like that. Tentatively, he looked to the various twitching bushes. “Um... hello!” he called. “Everyone, look! All the terrifying dragons have gone. You can all come out now!” Surely that display had to have been enough? A mob of stone-throwing youths, a school-day flashback, and a four-on-one assault courtesy of the town’s most-baddest gang? Seriously, what did they want from him?
He waited. One elephant. Two elephants. Three eleph...
Thirty elephants went by. Still nothing.
Ruddy typical.
George gave a demoralised sniff. Despite his best ultra-violent efforts to butter them up, the people still considered him to be a dangerous hazard. It was hopeless.