The Vegetarian Dragon

Short Stories

Copywrite Peter L. Barnes Oct 2019

“Cows! Cows as far as you can see,” said Dorgon, casting his eyes across the green, green hills of his Welsh home.

“So, what’s the problem,” said Pricilla, licking her claws after a very tasty breakfast snack, having crossed the road to catch a dithering chicken.

“I said I could eat a horse,” said Dorgon. “Not a blimmin’ cow.”

“Why can’t you eat a cow?”

“I’ve become a vegetarian, ain’t I.”

“I’m not sure you understand vegetarian.”

“Yes, I do. They said I couldn’t eat beef, lamb or pork or even chicken, even if it is claw licking good. Therefore, horse is still on the menu.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Is a cart an ‘orses durves?”


“Well, we all know you have to eat the cart before the horse.”

“Your hunger is draining power from your brain,” said Pricilla. “What we need is a stable.”

“Well Barnstaple is nearby.”


“Constable was into horses,” said Dorgon, never the brightest dragon, it has to be said. “Maybe he can help.”

“I think he was more an oxen man,” said Pricilla. “You need Stubbs.”

“I shave every morning,” said Dorgon. “What’s your problem.”

“Not stubble you idiot,” said Pricilla, becoming tired of his silly game. “Come on, let’s search for Escape to the Country.”


“Because there are always wannabes trying to find a house with stables,” she said. “There must be one close.”

Pricilla took out her Kindle Firestick and started a search. “Here we are – Sebastian and Camilla looking for land for their horses.”

They watched the programme on the small screen, fast forwarding until the couple found their dream home, complete with a manège and stables. They noted the village and the coordinates, before grabbing a flying pigeon, which upon the threat of being gobbled up, flew them to the afore mentioned farm.

“Thanks pigeon, don’t go far we may need you again.” The pigeon trembled but was too terrified to move.

“Come on Dorgon let’s see what they have,” said Pricilla.

Dorgon and Pricilla trundled up to the stables and started peering into each stall, which were mostly empty, certainly of horses.

“Can I help you,” said Sebastian, unfazed by the fearsome dragons, no doubt intent on stealing his steeds.

“Where are your horses?” asked Dorgon.

“We only have one at the moment and Camilla’s off riding it,” said Sebastian. “Are you looking for riding lessons?” knowing full well that they didn’t.

“Well, I’m not sure you have a horse big enough,” said Pricilla.

“And would you stop salivating into the stall,” said Sebastian.

Dorgon wiped his lips realising that this vegetarian fad wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought. Sneaking the occasional sheep or cow was fine, as they weren’t often missed from a large herd roaming the hills, but horses are more protected.

“I’ve seen enough Hunger Games programmes to know that look,” said Sebastian, picking up the fire hose. “Now hop off, there’s a good dragon, before I hose you down and put out your fire.”

“Let’s go,” said Pricilla, picking up the homing pigeon.

“You may want to try the stables at Horsham,” suggested Sebastian. “They often have horses that have expired,”

“Horses have an expiry date?”

“Shut up Dorgon. Thanks for your help,” said Pricilla “Come on Pigeon, Horsham here we go.”

A brisk flight later, they hovered over the farm and stables before dropping down into an open field where a TV crew were filming One man and his Dragon.

“Didn’t you do this once?” asked Pricilla.

“Yes, but they always filmed it after my fasting day.”

“Too may charred sheep I suppose.”

“Maybe,” said Dorgon. “Anyway, they then gave me a chance to do the Great British Roast Off, but it was never going to get to Hollywood.”

“Why me?” said Pricilla to herself, fed up with his ongoing nagging.

Once filming was finished, they collared the stable owner about any spare horses he may have.

“Dead or alive,” said Trevor, always up for a bit of horse trading.

“Either I suppose, but not rotting,” said Dorgon.

“There are often horses that have passed away and have to be taken to a knacker’s yard.”

“What’s a knackered yard. I often feel a bit down but don’t feel the need to go to any yard.”

Trevor soon realised the drift of the simpleton dragon. “No, it’s a place where we send deceased horses.”


“Tell you what, we had one only this morning,” said Trevor. “It would be a lot cheaper if you could dispose of it.”

“Lovely,” said the slavering dragon.

“Do you want a takeaway or eat-in?”

“I’ll eat it here if I may.”

“Do you want any sauce with that?” asked the farmer.


The owner towed the dead horse out to the middle of the field. “All yours, now don’t make a mess.”

Dorgon waited until the owner was safely out of harm’s way, before with a spark and a flash, he ignited a conflagration of yellow and red flame to engulf the body, leaving a charred and no doubt tasty feast.

“Ahh my Black Beauty, just what I need.”