The evil Magistrate had taken Dragon Little prisoner.
Dragon Little, only five years old, stood in the Magistrate’s throne room with two armed guards holding her - one holding each arm.
“Take her,” the Magistrate snarled. “And execute her!”
The guards nodded and turned her around.
“Wait!” Dragon Little said calmly. “Before I go, I need you to do one thing!”
“What is it?” the Magistrate barked. He signaled the guards to turn her around.
“I need you to count to ten,” she told him.
“Count to ten?”
“Count to ten and I’ll go peacefully,” she said.
The Magistrate thought about it for a few seconds. Then he shrugged. “All right. “One…”
Dragon Little nodded patiently.
A giant iron ball the size of a house dropped through the ceiling and landed on the Magistrate’s head, crushing his body and denting the floor.
Dragon Little looked at one guard, then the other. “Boo!” she yelled. They ran.
Dragon Father jumped through the hole on the roof and landed on top of the ball. “Miss me?”
She smiled. So did I. They were in perfect sync.
—Told by The Red Dragon