had no patience with his brothers
and their tiny-footed, anemic brides,
but the court ladies chased him anyhow,
presuming he had influence with Dad.
So he picked the ugliest prospects:
harelipped, bunioned, warty;
invited them for a night at his cottage --
straw bedding over a layer of pebbles.
Copying their simpering sisters
they boasted of bruises and battered limbs,
batted their eyes, reddened their lips
and declined his oatmeal without a taste.
One stormy night, the gold-eyed daughter
of an under-gardener begged shelter,
slept till noon, ate two bowls of oatmeal,
and beat him four times at dice.
He proposed; she refused.
He offered to slay a dragon for her.
Her gold eyes sparked;
flame issued from her nostrils.
She informed him her mother
was an ivory-scaled mountain dragon.
After due consideration, he took up
the slaying of dragon-hunters --
an unexpectedly profitable sport
(the armor, the jeweled swords)
that earned him a comfortable retirement
and a formidable mother-in-law.
(First published in Dreams & Nightmares)
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