The Dragon of Nottingham - Coping in the Cabana

Their cabana rental on the beach was neat and small, containing nothing but the essentials. Which suited the Smalls just fine. Very little of their vacation time was ever spent indoors. 

"Hey! What happened to the sun?" said Isaac. "It was here a minute ago."

"Just a brief, passing storm," said Isaac's dad. "It'll be over before the first raindrop hits the sand. Then the beach is ours."

When the rains fell that day, it was so much more than cats and dogs. There was also a good mixture of buffalo and elephant. Thunderous herds of them galloping every which way and back again. Calamitous clouds and leaping bolts of lightening filled the sky with a frightening display of Nature at her ill-tempered best. 

Isaac's dragon was the only one among them who took any comfort from the raging storm. It reminded him of home, where dragon’s found complete joy in the dreariness of a stormy day. To Isaac’s dragon this was indeed a summer vacation.

Isaac watched from his bed as the dragon flew out the window to welcome the rains.

"Come back!" he said. "You'll get hurt out there!"

But the dragon only looked back and smiled. Then he took off for the clouds. Leaving a trail of smoke and sparks as he climbed higher into the bleakness of the raging storm.

"What's going on in here?" said Isaac's dad. "Who were you talking to?"

"Oh, no one, Dad. I thought I saw a dog out there. But I think it was only a beach umbrella being blown around by the wind."

"Good looking out, son. Glad it was only an umbrella, though. A dog would have a tough time of it out there tonight. Why don't you come out to the living room with your mom and me. We've got a fire going and I thought we'd toast marshmallows. It'll help take the chill off."

Isaac welcomed the distraction, though he was still concerned about the dragon.

Isaac's mom had pulled the sofa closer to the fireplace. And it felt nice and toasty when he sat down.

"Hello, dear," she said. "I bought the biggest bag of marshmallows I could find. I know how much you and your dad like them. Here's your weapon."

Isaac took hold of the wooden shish-kebob stick and nuzzled up to his mom.

"Let's have a marsh-kebob contest!" said his dad. 

"A what?" said Isaac.

"We'll cram as many marshmallows as we can onto each kebob stick. And when they're good and toasted we'll see who can finish their marsh-kebob the quickest!"

"You can count me out," said Isaac's mom. "No sugar rushes or stomach aches for me. I plan on getting a good night's sleep. But you two have fun. I'll just sit here and hold the sick-bucket. The first one who feels the need to stick his head in the bucket is the loser."

"I'm sure you mean well, my dear. But Isaac and I won't be needing any sick-bucket. We're Small's! And a Small never sticks his head in a sick-bucket! Never!”

“That’s because you both have heads like inflated balloons. Maybe I should get a barrel. You could fit a lot of balloons in a barrel.”

“Very funny, oh comedic wife. But when our marshmallows go down, they’re staying down. No barrel needed. All that’s needed is a little encouragement from the stands. That’d be you. So if you don’t mind, some Small men are now going to stuff themselves with marshmallows. And what are you smirking at?”

“Oh, nothing, dear. You Small men are just so cute sometimes.”

“It’s a burden we both have to bare. But we do it with grace and a lot of marshmallows. I’ve managed to get a dozen on my kebob, Isaac. How about you?”

“If you can do a dozen, Dad. Then I’ll do a dozen.”

“That’s my boy! And remember to raise your lips like a snarling-mad dog. Keep them as far away from the piping-hot marshmallow as possible. You’ll want to be all teeth when you dig in. I wouldn’t want you to scorch those lips of yours. Because one never knows when you’ll meet an enchanting mermaid on the beach. Always remember, Isaac. See a mermaid. Kiss a mermaid. That’s what keeps their species going. That’s why they’re always popping up on beaches and jetties. Because if they stopped getting kissed by humans they’d turn all fish and we’d never see them again. And goodness knows we have enough fish in the world. But not nearly enough mermaids. Legend has it that--"

“Dad!”

“Right. Back to the marshmallows. And may the best muncher win! Go!”

When the dragon returned to the cabana later that night, Isaac and his dad were fast asleep on the sofa. The two were unable to move from their marsh-kebob eating positions after wolfing down the entire bag of marshmallows. All one hundred and four of the bite-sized morsels. Both held out until the bitter end, refusing offers of a break, or a moment alone with the sick-bucket. 

"Never!" cried the father.

"Double never!" cried the son. 

It was a battle of nerves from the moment their marsh-kebobs were crossed. No sooner had one been emptied, then it was again loaded with the fluffy white delights. 

Roast, eat and load! 
Roast, eat and load! 
Roast, eat and load!

Isaac's mom watched as the two attacked the last of the marsh-kebobs. Four eyes now at half-mast. Two heads tilted back, no longer able to maintain an upright position. Each mouth loaded with the very last of the gooey pellets. Then a final 'gulp' was heard from each of the marsh-kebob soldiers. It was all over. Though neither of them was conscious enough to realize who had the very last gulp.

Isaac's mom had thrown a blanket over father and son. Two weary marsh-kebob warriors bound for glory on the dream train.

"I love my two idiots," she said. Then she went to bed. 

When the concerned dragon approached the sofa, he sniffed at the marsh-kebob stick that was still being held by Isaac. At first he was hesitant. Then he began to nibble at the sticky remains.

"Yummm!" said the dragon.

Placing the empty marshmallow bag over his head, the dragon walked off to bed, licking at the powdery remains.