[ID: A series of tweets by Max the comics guy who does comics a… @/amadcartoonist. (The dragon’s dialogue is originally in caps, here transcribed in bolded sentence case.)
“Wow,” said Saint George as he plunged his most holy of weapons into the enveloping darkness of the beast. “What do you call these genitals of yours?”
“It is a word unpronounceable by human tongue,” roared the dragon.
“Well, whatever it is, it feels fantastic,” said George.
“Dragon,” said George. “Must you speak so loudly?“
"This is as quiet as I can be,” roared the dragon. “It is also as loud as I can be. Dragons only have one volume.”
“Huh,” said George.
And then the dragon ate George.
It ate him for the better part of an hour.
Then they tried it the other way ‘round for a while, but it was logistically awkward due to their vastly different sizes, so George just ended up doing hand stuff and that worked out for everyone.
“Dragon,” said George as he reclined on the dragon. “Do you love me?”
The dragon thought.
“I love things about you. I love the thing we do that is quite like sex. I love making you laugh and when you make me laugh in turn. I love how happy and at peace it makes me feel just to be near you.”
“I don’t love all the pieces of you, but it would be near impossible to count the things about you I do love and I can count very high. I hope that is enough.”
George considered this.
“Yes,” he said. “I believe it is.”
And so it was.
“Hey,” said George as the dragon’s breath began to grow quicker. “If you want to cum on me, that’s totally fine. I have a towel. Knights are always prepared.”
“My ejaculate is thousands of degrees hot,” said the dragon.
“Oh,” said George. “Never mind, then.”
“I am showing you the weak spot on my belly,” said the dragon. “A single arrow here would strike me dead.”
“I am honored you trust me so,” said George.
“It is also an erogenous zone,” said the dragon. “Just FYI.”
"One cannot trust a dragon,” stated Sir Pellinore, drawing himself to his feet. “They may speak the words of man, but they do so with a forked tongue.”
“A really long, really flexible tongue,” said George.
“What?” said Sir Pellinore.
“Nothing,” said George.
“George is fighting a dragon again,” said Sir Pellinore.
“It’s the same dragon,” said Beowulf darkly.
“I thought he impaled that one on his lance.
"He did.”
“Well, he’s wrestling it now, the brave lad. He’s even doing it in the proper Greek style.”
“Of course he is.”
“Behold, oh man,” roared the dragon. “I have engaged in the ancient ritual of cleansing flame, purifying my body completely.”
“So we’re clear for assplay?” Asked George.
“Oh yes.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a cigarette,” explained George. “I’m smoking.”
“Of course you are,” said the dragon.
“What?” said George.
“Nothing. You are being very cute right now.”
“So, I heard you ate Guy of Warwick,” said George. “And I want to let you know it’s okay. We never talked about being exclusive. You’re free to do whatever you want.”
“That was not a euphemism. I was just hungry.”
“Oh,” said George. “Never mind, then.”
“What are you doing?,” asked the dragon.
“I’m trying to work your nipples,” said George.
“Not a mammal.”
“Right.”
“This is where you live? It’s very nice, as far as caves go,” said George.
“I did not realize how dirty it was in here. Your halo is really lighting up the place. Making me see how much I need to clean.”
“Sorry. I don’t know how to turn it off.”
“That dragon you’ve been fighting seems to be giving you all sorts of trouble. Do you need help killing the beast?” asked Sir Pellinore. “I notice that you’ve got some claw marks on your back and bite marks on your inner thigh.”
“I’m good,” said George.
“How do you like the tea? I made it myself,” said George proudly.
“I do not like it very much, but I do appreciate you sharing it with me,” said the dragon.
“That’s fine,” said George. “I suppose dragons have different taste buds than humans.”
“Sure, let us go with that.”
“I like how you have that kind of a v shape between your stomach and your groin,” said the dragon, idly tracing the area with a single claw. “Do you do a lot of bicycle kicks? Or reverse crunches?”
“Sort of,” said George. “I wear metal pants that are very difficult to take off.” End ID]
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