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Although he'd been told over and over again by his parents that
it was only a seahorse, Charlie often imagined the little
creature in the fish tank was some sort of aquatic dragon, and
that it might actually be able to breathe fire if it weren't for
all that water.
It was on a Saturday morning that he decided to test this little
theory.
Armed with a valiant blue-and-gold knight from his toy chest
(everyone knows how much dragons hate knights), along with a
small raft he'd fashioned from Popsicle sticks, he snuck down
the stairs a full hour before his parents usually got up.
The gurgling chorus of the pump doubled in volume as he opened
the fish tank's lid, the smell of algae wafting up from within.
After setting the raft down on the water's surface, he carefully
balanced the medieval soldier atop it, not letting go until he
was sure the craft was stable. The stage set, he sat down on the
edge of the coffee table and waited for a response from the
supposed seahorse.
If it really was a dragon, he'd reasoned, then surely it would
object to the presence of the six-inch figurine and float up to
the surface to destroy it.
After a full fifteen minutes, however, during which the sea
horse showed no sign of even being awake, much less provoked by
the arrogant smile etched into the knight's face, Charlie began
to grow impatient. He scooped up the figurine and promptly
positioned it at the bottom of the tank, directly beside the
deep-sea diver already stationed there.
"There," he said. "Now he's in your domain. What're you gonna do
now, huh, dragon? What're you gonna do now?"
The yellow seahorse drifted back a few inches in response, as if
waiting for the tiny, gold-hilted sword on the knight's hip to
be unsheathed from its scabbard and leveled in its direction.
When it became evident that no such attack was forthcoming,
however, the dragon grew bold, and floated a little closer, its
tail curling and uncurling in a way that very much reminded
Charlie of a body-builder flexing his muscles.
Hands balled into fists, Charlie waited. "C'mon, dragon," he
said. "Get 'im!"
The seahorse's mouth opened, but instead of a plume of fire, out
came a single air bubble. It floated forward, expanding as it
moved through the clear blue water. In a matter of only seconds,
the knight was enveloped, trapped inside the transparent sphere.
Its plastic features began to melt, slowly at first, but then
faster and faster, until finally there was nothing left but a
large, misshapen pile atop the inch of gravel on the bottom of
the tank. The bubble popped.
"Cool!" Charlie exclaimed.
Fearing his hand might suffer a similar fate, Charlie waited
until the dragon had retreated gracefully from its kill and
taken up a spot in the corner before plunging his arm in to
retrieve the knight's remains.
It felt much heavier now than it had before it had been melted,
like it was made of steel rather than plastic. Curious, Charlie
turned the deformed lump over in his hand, then gasped upon
realizing that not only had the toy been melted, but that parts
of it--all those rendered in gold--had congealed to form a
nugget. A real nugget, or so Charlie surmised by the weight
and look of it.
It took some pulling and cutting, but eventually Charlie managed
to free the golden ball from its plastic enclosure. He held it
up to the lamp and marveled at its glittering exterior. How much
was it worth, he wondered; how many knights might it buy him? Of
course, if he wanted to cash in on this little stroke of luck,
he'd first have to tell his parents where he got it, which could
very well result in the dragon being flushed down the toilet.
"Can't keep a dangerous creature like that in the house," he
imagined them saying.
With a sigh, Charlie glanced down at the dragon floating in the
tank. "I suppose it belongs to you, anyway," he said.
He lifted the lid and reached in, depositing the golden ball
within the mouth of a little cave comprised of living rock.
"Guard it well, little dragon," he said. "Guard it well."
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