Derek and Hilary were dragons, sitting on a tump atop a hill in Somerset.
Derek was perpetually miserable and Hilary only hung around because there weren’t any other dragons in the region.
Derek rolled onto his back, baring his grey scaled belly to the sky.
“You could try licking your own balls again, that occupied you for the past six hours.”
“It’s quite amusing to watch, too,” Hilary flicked her orange tail at his head, “especially when you gave yourself a chemical burn, set off screaming and trampled this herd of sheep.”
She gathered up the last half-eaten carcass and tossed it up into the air. It descended into her open mouth gracefully, which she snapped shut and savoured.
“I’ll figure it out. We’re immortal, after all. Plenty of time. GODS they itch though.”
Hilary crunched and swallowed.
“Why don’t you fly low across the top of that line of trees down there,” she pointed with her head, “that would surely help.”
Derek rolled off his back and looked in the direction of where she nodded.
“Worth a try I suppose.” and with that he stood up and shook his wings out before gliding gracefully to the bottom of the valley where the trees were.
By the time he got there it was too late to swerve away from the giant, camouflaged siege engine that the dragon slayers had set up. An almighty slingshot released with a crack and five ropes tethered by rocks flew up and wrapped around Derek, tangling his wings and bringing him down into the copse with a crash.
“You wicked beast!” he screamed at Hilary.
“Now your balls are in a sling, worry about that.” Hilary roared back, as she trotted off to the next field of sheep, puffing smoke rings as she went.