There’s a dragon in the garden.
Huffing, puffing, billowing smoke.
Trees recoil in abject horror.
Hissing and sparking.
Dragon melts in to the atmosphere.
He puts forth his strike.
Striking out at dried out leaves.
A stupendous bang.
An explosion of long dead transmitters spray across the lawn.
Popping loudly as they fly.
Spawned from dragons guts.
Someone fed him a disused T.V.
From his belly sparked kaleidoscope of coloured lights.
Children should not feed the bonfire.
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