Irene shook her head. “Facts are facts. Frankie, my pet dragon, escaped yesterday.”
Joe groaned. He knew Irene had been training Frankie not to shoot flames at innocent passersby. However, her success had been minimal so far. He couldn’t imagine the potential damage to society.
“So, how can we prevent a crisis here?” Joe demanded.
“We need something to attract him,” Irene responded. “Ideas?”
Joe sighed. “Well, what do dragons eat?”
Irene choked. Frankie had an appetite for short, plump men, just like Joe.
She shook her head. “Not happening. Time to call for heavy artillery.”