I have a dragon in my garage. I mentioned it to my friend Jim, and of course he was sceptical. “Let’s see this dragon!” he said. So I had him come round, and knocked on the garage door. The door opened and the dragon stepped out right there in front of us.
“That can’t really be a dragon!” he says. It’s a well-trained dragon, so I had it walk about and spread its wings, showing off its iridescent scaly hide.
“Yes, it looks like a dragon,” he goes on, “but it can’t really be a dragon. Dragons belch fire!”
The dragon raised an eyebrow, and discreetly belched some fire into a corner of the yard.
“Yes, but it can’t really be a dragon,” he says, “dragons can—”
“𝔉𝔩𝔶?” it said. It took off and flew around, then came back to land in front of us.
“Ah, but aren’t dragons supposed to collect gold, and be enormously old, and full of unknowable wisdom?”
With an outstretched wingtip the dragon indicated the (rather modest, I had to admit) pile of gold trinkets in the garage. “I can’t really cut off one of its talons to count the growth rings,” I said, “but if you want unknowable wisdom, I think it’s about to give you some.” The dragon walked up to Jim, stared at him eye to eye for a long moment, and at last said “𒒄𒒰𒓠𒓪𒕃𒔻𒔞”
“Er...so I’ve heard,” said Jim, looking a bit wobbly. “But seriously,” he said when he’d collected himself, “you can’t expect me to believe you have a dragon!”
I have a dragon in my garage. I mentioned it to my friend Jim, and of course he was sceptical. “Let’s see this dragon!” he said. So I had him come round, and knocked on the garage door. The door opened and the dragon stepped out right there in front of us.
“That can’t really be a dragon!” he says. It’s a well-trained dragon, so I had it walk about and spread its wings, showing off its iridescent scaly hide.
“Yes, it looks like a dragon,” he goes on, “but it can’t really be a dragon. Dragons belch fire!”
The dragon raised an eyebrow, and discreetly belched some fire into a corner of the yard.
“Yes, but it can’t really be a dragon,” he says, “dragons can—”
“𝔉𝔩𝔶?” it said. It took off and flew around, then came back to land in front of us.
“Ah, but aren’t dragons supposed to collect gold, and be enormously old, and full of unknowable wisdom?”
With an outstretched wingtip the dragon indicated the (rather modest, I had to admit) pile of gold trinkets in the garage. “I can’t really cut off one of its talons to count the growth rings,” I said, “but if you want unknowable wisdom, I think it’s about to give you some.” The dragon walked up to Jim, stared at him eye to eye for a long moment, and at last said “𒒄𒒰𒓠𒓪𒕃𒔻𒔞”
“Er...so I’ve heard,” said Jim, looking a bit wobbly. “But seriously,” he said when he’d collected himself, “you can’t expect me to believe you have a dragon!”