Why Is the Rum Gone? A Tale of Dragons and Pirates
This is my contest entry for the image prompt by The Circus Dragon
Hello, my lovely readers. This is not my normal genre (except for the satirical comedy part), but I had a wacky idea for a little short story based on this wonderful image. As you read, please keep in mind, this is comedy with a splash of satire. It is meant to be ridiculous. You have been warned.
Now, to
Why is The Rum Gone? A Tale of Dragons and Pirates
Have you heard the one about the fearsome dragon who hoarded rum and got into a nasty marital dispute while chasing a pirate ship?
No?
Well, hoist your sails and suspend your disbelief because you're about to embark on a swashbuckling adventure. Fair warning, the pirates are terrible. Utterly insufferable. The kind who correct your grammar mid-threat. But so are the dragons.
So without further ado, here is the story of the dragon who wanted to know “Why is the rum gone?”
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Blazerick Infernicus III was the realm's most formidable dragon, with blood-red scales, razor sharp talons, and a wingspan the length of a small island. He relished in life's simple pleasures: burninating entire villages of peasants and hoarding all their possessions in his cave. Perhaps his most prized pilfered collection was an array of fine spirits.
Rum, to be exact. Bottle after bottle of the smoothest rum in all the land.
One dismal morning, as Blazerick stared at the empty cave wall that once housed his carefully curated stash, he asked a most pressing question:
“Why is the rum gone?”
His thunderous voice sent sizzling cracks across the cave's ancient stone floor. It was this literal burning question that led him to his present scenario: hunting down the second-most mediocre pirate ship to ever scour the seven seas.
The Beige Pebble was manned by a motley crew of philosophers, poets, and professors whose subpar skills forced them to resort to a life of piracy. As Blazerick flew through the stormy summer skies chasing said vessel, another pressing question bounced around his draconian brain.
Why on dragons-scorched earth would these bipedal imbeciles be sailing off with his rum?
Umber clouds formed the backdrop of Blazerick's vengeance as his scarred wings thrashed against the horizon. Once he'd caught up to the ship, he hovered over the inky ocean surface, inhaling lungfuls of salty air. It prickled his throat as he coiled back, jaws opening to release a weak trail of flames through the air above the Pebble. It wasn't close enough to ignite the vessel—that would've been downright stupid of him, what with his rum collection on board. No, just enough to singe the tops of the pirate’s heads and make them shake in their boots.
“It's Blazerick! The blasted dragon followed us!”
The cries of the bumbling buccaneers echoed in Blazerick's ears. Lowering his massive head to eye level with The Beige Pebble's stern, he chortled as the pirates hit the deck like floundering fish, begging for mercy.
“What are you incompetent fools doing with my rum?” Blazerick bellowed. “Return it, lest I burninate you and your dinky ship to cinders!”
“Excuse me, O terrible fiery one,” a pale, lanky pirate squeaked, “'Burninate' is not a proper word. I believe you either mean 'burn' or 'incinerate'... It would behoove you to choose one or the other. For maximum impact, I'd suggest 'incinerate'—”
“Hold on, Jimmy,” a philosopher pirate piped up, “If a dragon incinerates trees in a forest, and no one is there to hear it, did they really—”
“Silence!” Blazerick hissed, steam curling from his nostrils. “If you prefer NOT being piles of ash tossed into Davy Jones's locker, it would behoove you to tell me why you've stolen my rum!”
“Stolen?” Scoffed an incredulous pirate with a wooden stump for a leg. “What do you take us for? Common street urchins? We were hired, honest to goodness!”
Enraged at this revelation, Blazerick shot out a massive claw and plucked up the stocky one-legged man.
“Tell me,” he snarled, dangling the petrified pirate in front of his enormous snout, “WHO hired you to steal my rum collection?”
The pirate's face paled, pointing a trembling finger toward the distant skies behind them.
“'Twas... her…”
Blazerick craned his neck to find a dazzling female dragon emerging from the mist. She flew toward him with murder in her emerald eyes, her iridescent scales sparkling and shimmering despite the lack of sunlight.
“Debbie?” Blazerick's own coal-black eyes widened as she positioned herself opposite of himself, hovering over the ship's bow.
“BLAZERICK INFERNICUS THE THIRD! PUT THAT PIRATE DOWN THIS INSTANT!”
Blazerick was afraid of nothing and no one in this world, except Debbie. So he followed her command, dropping the man on the ship's deck with an unceremonious thud.
“You could have been a little gentler with that!” The pirate groaned, wincing as he tried to pick himself up.
“Wait, Bob. I need to examine you for broken ribs or a concussion,” a pirate with a weathered medical bag rushed over, kneeling down to poke and prod.
Blazerick, still utterly bewildered, turned back to the Pebble's crew. “My WIFE hired you?”
“Don't speak of me as if I'm not right here!” Debbie snapped.
The remaining pirates huddled together on the deck, trembling as they found themselves caught in the crosshairs of the dragons' marital dispute.
“Debbie, you do nothing but bring me down!” Blazerick grumbled, inexplicably now unafraid of incurring Debbie's wrath.
A collective gasp echoed across the Pebble's deck. If this story had not been set in a non-descript medieval fantasy world, the pirates would have been waiting in the comments with their popcorn.
“Blazerick, I'm not bringing you down,” Debbie countered, “I'm merely forcing you to grow up. You're about to be a father!” Debbie crossed her forelegs across her chest.
“Don't patronize me woman,” Blazerick hissed, his tail thrashing dangerously close to the ship's mast. “We are dragons! We burninate, we pilfer, we hoard. I'm only setting an example for our wee spawn.”
“You couldn't have picked a more respectable item to collect, then? The beverage of swashbuckling scallywags? You should be ashamed,” Debbie scoffed.
“I'll have you know, we are actually quite cultured,” a proud pirate interrupted, puffing out his chest.
“Mind your own business, you pungent peasant!” Both dragons roared in unison.
“We're pirates. By definition, we're much wealthier than peasants—”
“Do you ever cease your mindless drivel?” Blazerick creased his brow in annoyance.
“Blazerick, my dear. Let these irritating humans go in peace,” Debbie implored with calculated sweetness. “I've paid them handsomely with your bejeweled paperweight collection. Let them do their job.”
Blazerick's eye twitched. “Not the paperweights.”
“And the artisanal cheese collection,” Debbie smiled, casually examining her long black talons.
“What were you thinking, you insufferable female?” Blazerick screeched. He pointed a craggy claw at the spectating sailors. “You will return my collections at once, lest I resort to more… unfavorable measures.”
“Don't listen to him,” Debbie cut in, “You've been paid handsomely. Be off into the cloud-covered sunset.”
“Pay no mind to this wench! The deal is off,” Blazerick thundered.
“Oh, Blazerick, be reasonable.” If dragons had eyelashes, I'd imagine Debbie was batting hers at her enraged husband right about now.
“Don't go seducing me with your magnificent beauty,” hissed Blazerick, “Do you really expect me to let you get away with this? Why?”
Before Debbie could retort, a bespectacled pirate—a former psychologist whose expertise was questionable at best—offered his ill-timed colloquialism. “You know, us humans have a saying. 'Happy wife, happy life.'”
Blazerick dipped his snout low and huffed scalding steam at the pirate. “I ought to burninate you right now for your—”
A former prosecutor pirate cleared his throat, either bravely or stupidly stepping between the two. “Perhaps we consider mediation? Surely two reasonable dragons can find a reasonable compromise regarding the fate of the recreational beverages?”
“How about this for mediation?” Debbie sighed dramatically. “Blazerick, if you agree not to burninate the mortals, you can keep the top-shelf vintage bottles.”
“It's all or nothing, Sweetheart.” Blazerick kept his steely gaze on the sweaty pirate cowering in front of his cavernous nostrils. “Give back all the rum, or these pirates will not live to sail another day.”
“And your rum would go up in flames,” Debbie reminded. “You'd best accept my compromise.”
“I want all the bottles, and I'll let them go. They can keep the cheese.”
“And the paperweights?” Bob, now fully recovered from his freefall, piped up.
“Fine, the paperweights, too,” Blazerick grumbled.
“You can keep one-hundred bottles,” Debbie counter-offered.
“One-hundred twenty-five.”
“Seventy-five, they must be over a century old, and only displayed on special occasions.”
“Wait, what?” Blazerick stammered, “What exactly constitutes a special occasion?”
As the two dragons became completely absorbed in their increasingly complex negotiations, The Beige Pebble quietly sailed away with the paperweights, artisanal cheeses, and rum—right under their scaly noses.
You see, our dueling duo fell victim to one of the classic dragon blunders, the most famous of which is “Never torch a village downwind of your own cave.” But only slightly less well-known is this: “Never take your eyes off a ship full of pirates when rum is on the line.”
The End
Thank you so much for reading and humoring me with this silly story. If there was a particular line that made you chuckle, feel free to let me know in the comments.
Have a lovely weekend,
Hallie
This was a really fun read! I don't think I've ever seen dragons combined with humour this way. Loved it.
I've been laughing out loud at this - totally sharing with my husband who has had to listen to my laughing - so he should know too right? Brilliant!