dragons overdose
They told each other stories over stale beer when everyone else left to catch the last train home. She told him about a lonely magical warrior princess cursed by an evil king to a life of seclusion in a tower build of books and broken records. She would cry her throath raw at night, shouting spells and incantations into the night sky out of the only window, but as hard as she tried, the stars never send a sign down. They were cold and distant, tiny specks light years away, too far to hear her voice. He told her the story missed dragons. He said his had more dragons. She gunnafed, choking on her beer and he laughed. She took his offered napkin and nodded. Let's hear about the dragons then, she said. There once was a boy who liked to play his guitair. But the dragons were jealous of his music. They found tiny ways to stop him from playing - tearing at his strings, hiding away the guitair, stomping on his fingers to make sure he could never play another note. But the boy never gave up...
