"W-w-what d-does he eat?" "Strays mostly.

"W-w-what d-does he eat?" "Strays mostly. Cats, dogs, hobos and the like." I petted my dragon with pride as my friends cowered in the corner. They were but pawns in my epic fantasy

. "Manatees? Nuns? Does he like Spam?" I nodded. "All of the above," I said proudly. My dragon reared back then, as if on cue, spewed molten Spam over all of us. It was awesome!!

I began to lick the smoking hot dragon-regurgitated spam off of the old Stablemaster's comely yet wrinkly elbows. My dragons ruminant-like stomache each stored a different delicacy

. They say canine dwarfs are disgusting. True. But we can fly. That's what make us awesome. And we have an arm that comes out of our backs that wields a battle axe.

Troy continued "and we all live underwater protected by meerkats and.. and.." I looked at his crayon scribble as he babbled. "The canine dwarfs are friends with

the humans - as long as the humans mind their business." Well, the main problem here was that minding it's business was not really humanity's strongest point. We could only hope

for occasional bouts of meddling at best. Butting into other's affairs and interfering as much as possible was humanity's favorite pastime. The human race was doomed. Soon we would

Never be able to claim privacy again, in the true sense. The world was a commune, a co-op, whatever term you choose. Whomever understood that best won the election astrology bets.

She dipped the stick in the flame and lit the black candle. She poured your blood over it but just enough to keep the flame from dieing until the goblet was empty. Your sacrifice.

"Wait," I interrupted, "if you are killing me, then it's not MY sacrifice, is it?" She looked stung. I heard a rumbling and her turban exploded. That's the last anyone saw of her.