I have a pet dragon. That what I tell people he is. Actually, he’s a crocodile that I trained to walk on his hind feet. I embedded a torch in his mouth so he could breathe fire out. I used him to light my smokes, grill and irritate my neighbors. Neighbors like Clem Bob.

“Say thar, neighbor, what be that thar critter?”, Clem Bob asked me.

“It’s a dragon”.

“Shoo, go on now. I knows they ain’t no sucha thing as dragons”, Clem Bob responded.

“Well, he is. What else could he be? You ever seen the likes of him before?”

“Wahl, nah, can’ says as I has. Shooey, I like to get me one of them”.

I call him Dizzy. Walking on his hind legs instead of all fours makes him a little wobbly at times. It also makes him a little irritable all the time. I haven’t been able to break him of torching anything that burns. He set a barn on fire and then set the firetruck on fire. The firefighters really hosed him for that stunt.

He’s considered cool. He does real well with the babes. Understand, the babes around here aren’t using their running lights. They think he’s an ugly, quiet guy in a rugged sort of way. They really flip over him. Exactly what happen between the babes and the dragon is undescribale. Unbelievable too.

He roams around and is gone for days at a time. When he gets back all he does is sleep with a silly grin on his face and always needs refueled.

The Animal Protection League came out with a complaint. After checking his house, food, and water they couldn’t find anything to cite me for.

“Dang it, I know you can’t have a dragon but doesn’t seem to be any law against it. If this was a croc walking on his hind legs we could jail you. Thing is, crocs can’t breathe fire. Know where I can get one?”, the warden asked.

I used to have him light the grill for me until he set the fence on fire. This got him all worked up and I lost the garage and part of the house before I got him under control. I keep a fire extinquisher on me when I walk him. He likes to go for walks done the road setting mailboxes on fire. Man, that’s a federal offense.

Still, when you come down to it, he’s a great pet. Better than a Rotweiler. Fact is, Dizzy eats Rotweilers. He eats anything. Not a fussy pet like some. He loves grilled cat. He can take out the biggest ant hill with one blast if his breath. He can do that even when he’s out of breath. Foul breath. Won’t learn to gargle.

Dizzy’s afraid of my wife. He was going through the kitchen, decided the meal cooking too slow and gave it a blast. Crisped her roast to cinders. She whacked him with a broom. He avoids her.

Time to put the leash on him and go mailbox burning.