3 Guys in a Pub
– A Modern Parable
Part 1
There were these three
guys sitting in the pub, old friends, having a pint when one said “What was the
worst thing that ever happened to you as a child?”
“I think I was about six when my Mum and Dad moved
house. The house belonged to my Granddad who’d died. Well it was a big old
dusty house with loads of rooms and even a cellar. I was exploring the rooms
when I saw a door off the ground floor hall. Opening it I saw a long flight of
stairs going down. It looked creepy but I wanted to know what was down there so
leaving the door open wide in case I wanted to escape I went down. At the
bottom of the stairs there was another door. It creaked as I pushed it open. It
smelled horrible, all stale and dusty and
there was strange smell I hadn’t smelled before. It made me feel sick.”
“As I was
saying it smelled horrible and it was pitch dark in there. And then I heard
something move in the blackness and I nearly died of fright I was so scared. I
pulled out my torch and switched it on and scanned the cellar. At first I
thought there was nothing there but then the light of the torch picked out a
little pile of debris, bits of paper and wood and stuff and then the pile of
stuff moved! I thought it was rat or a mouse.”
The other two looked at the guy and both said
simultaneously “What was it?”
“Hang on I’m getting there…I went over and shone the
torch down on the pile and kicked at it with my trainer and then I jumped back.
It was a dragon! A tiny little dragon and it was so cute so I bent down and
took it into my hands and it looked at me and I swear it smiled at me but it
ponged awful.”
“That night I could hardly sleep I was so excited that
I had a secret pet. I didn’t tell anyone but every day after school I’d feed it
and give it milk and in a short time it grew to the size of a cat. It didn’t
want the milk and bread anymore so I gave it leftovers. All kinds of food;
burgers, chips, chocolate, Pepsi and sometimes the dregs of my Dad’s beer! It
loved it all.”
“Then over Christmas, because of all the excitement
and presents, I forgot about the dragon for a few day’s but after Boxing Day I
went down to see if it was okay. Blimey,
when I opened the door what I saw scared the life out
of me! It had grown to the size of a tiger and as soon as it saw me it leapt
forward and a bolt of flame came out of its mouth. I just managed to shut the
door in time. I ran screaming up the stairs straight into my Dad’s arms.”
“What’s got into you lad? And what are you doing in
that dirty old cellar I told you never to go down there!”
I was just about to get a wallop when my Dad saw how
frightened I really was. He bent down low and held my arms and said “Come on
tell what’s scared you? Something down there is it?”
“Yes, yes Dad it’s a blooming dragon!” I blurted out.
“A dragon? Don’t make me laugh!”
“I’m not lying Dad…I’ve been feeding for months…go and
see for yer’self but be careful cos it’ll burn you up.”
He gave me this daft look then went down the stairs.
“Just crack the door a bit Dad don’t…please don’t let
it out!” I shouted.
He did as I said, just peeped, probably just to humour
me, but in flash he slammed the door shut and I saw him quaking in his boots.
From inside the cellar came a great roar and then the paint on the door started
to blister.
He rushed past me and in few minutes he back with a
big axe in his hand and a hosepipe in the other. My mum looked through the
kitchen window at us.
“Jill when I shout ‘turn it on’ you turn the water on
full blast okay?”
“Okay George.”
“Right son we’re going down together and I want you do
to do your bit understood?”
“Yes, Dad but what are we going to do?”
I really didn’t want to deal with this.
“When I fling the door open you are going to hose that
dragon so he can’t spit fire and I am going to run in and chop its bleeding
head off.”
“Ready? Jill! Turn the Water on!”
My dad flung open the door and there was the fearsome
dragon but before it could spit fire I fired a jet of water straight down its
gullet. My Dad, screaming like a banshee, dashed into the cellar and with one
fantastic swipe of the axe lopped its head straight off.
“Later we chopped it into bits and put it in black
bags and put it out with the rubbish. That was the last I saw of it, thank
God.”
If you like reading Fred's stories you can visit www.fredhurr.org to find out more and also purchase his latest ghost story on Kindle at http://tinyurl.com/bwl74cv
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