FSE

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~ The dragon writhed against the cushions of the couch. He was warm. He was comfortable. He was warm and comfortable and someone wanted him to buy a garden hose. Even in his half awake fog of thought, the dragon didn't take long to remember that he shared an apartment with a gryphon, and that garden hoses were for people with gardens and lawns and children that needed unsanitary things to drink from or people with waterbeds and fewer claws than either of the roommates. He rolls onto his side, as the television continued to present its case for the purchase of the best gardening hose to have ever been designed, created, or to include free shipping.

~ He blinked until his eyes could find focus, and checked a clock. It was the middle of the night; he must have fallen asleep on the couch after getting home from his shift. This explained why he smelled like pizza dough. As did the couch. And now, the blanket. The dragon chuckled to himself and smiled; Victoria must have gifted him a blanket while he was asleep. The television informed him of further potential uses for a garden hose. Being without need to tow small vehicles or wench engine blocks out of classic cars, he groped the nightstand's surface in a failed attempt at acquiring the remote control. A moment of panic rose in the dragon's throat.

~ The dragon squirmed anxiously on the couch beneath his blanket. He was comfortable. He was warm. He was comfortable and warm and it was not comfortable and not warm outside of the couch and blanket. Of this he was sure, moreso than he was certain that he would not have need to replace the timing belts of any heavy earth moving equipment with garden hoses. And yet, the television entreated him with the possibilities. The dragon scoffed, and settled back into comfort where he could surely ignore the boasts and bargains and resume his slumber.

~ It was only a short time before the television was elaborating on the litany of niches that garden hoses could fill when staging, attending, or breaking up a heavy metal rock concert. All with the appropriate soundtracks of screaming songs, screaming praise, and screaming crowds fleeing before the might of these hoses. The dragon was warm. The dragon was comfortable. The dragon was warm. The dragon was warm and comfortable and very much awake. As profanities began to dribble from his muzzle, he leaned just slightly upright to get a proper reckoning for the location of the control atop its nightstand perch.

~ It was not there; in fact, it was taunting him from its location on the TV stand. Victoria must have again used it to change the input settings; such was the mischief and follies of matters gryphon. The dragon settled back down into the cushions to regroup and reconsider. Perhaps the at least one of the various manners to which garden hoses were the optimal device to carry along to the town's bi-annual combination fireworks display and tornado drill would make a warm, comfortable path back to sleep more readily apparent.

~ The town's bi-annual combination fireworks display and tornado drill and air horn calibration tent are not associated with slumbering dragons for perfectly valid reasons. A few of which, yes, involve garden hoses.

~ With only two options left to him, the dragon cried out, "Victoria! The TV is trying to coax me into irresponsible purchases of wildly useful household goods again! Can I get some help?" The apartment replied with a combination of silence, and the sound of tractor pull trucks failing to break garden hoses.

~ He had been warm. He had been comfortable. He continued to smell of pizza dough, as the dragon stood infront of the TV with the remote control in hand. The room was not warm, the room was not comfortable. The dragon was not warm and not comfortable as he stood frozen between the options of following through on his plan of using the remote control to turn off the TV, or seizing upon the more viceral plan of directly applying his attentions to the tiny button on the side of the television. The room slowly began to smell more strongly of pizza dough, as the dragon began to reconsider Victoria's motives when she laid a blanket over her sleeping roommate and pizza dough odor ground zero.