The Dragon finally found Alice, sitting at her desk. He poked his big furry head through office window and asked her to come outside and play.
“I can’t, Dragon I need to work out how to sell some more of our ‘Day in the life of a Dragon’ packages.”
“But it’s so lovely and warm in the sunshine, can’t you do that later?” whined The Dragon
“I can’t, I’ve got to work out how to sell more stuff. What I’ve been doing isn’t working, and our monthly gin bill needs paying next week”
“Nightmare!”, said The Dragon, in a slightly panicked voice, “What you going to do about it?!”
“I’ve honestly got no idea,” sighed Alice “I quite like the idea of Facebook advertising, but I’ve got no idea where to start”
“Why don’t you just boost a post? Isn’t that what everybody else does?”
“Well I could, but whenever I’ve done it in the past, it’s given me precisely diddly squat results, so I’m not sure that there’s any point.”
“Why don’t you just ask The Woodcutter about it?” asked The Dragon, “Isn’t he supposed to know how to do stuff like this?”
Alice considered this for a moment, then put down her pen, pushed back her chair from her desk and said “Well, let’s go and find him and ask”.
As the two of them walked through the woods, towards The Woodcutter’s cottage, Alice was chatting away about her plans to sell as many ‘Day in the life of a Dragon’ packages as possible before the end of the week. Not only did she have to pay the gin bill, but she really fancied some new tassled cushions for the guests rooms.
The Dragon was only really half listening, as he crashed through the undergrowth either side of the narrow path. Instead, his mind was on which cocktails he was going to make in the castle bar that evening, and whether his pale blue velvet smoking jacket was clean or not. He had a sneaking suspicion that it had cigar burns in the lapel, and creme de menthe down the back of it. He sniggered to himself quietly at the memory – that had been a fabulous party!
As he tuned back into the conversation, he heard Alice say “so anyway, I signed you up for singing lessons. I suppose if I can’t stop you singing, I might as well do what I can to reduce the number of glass panes we’re having to replace every week.”
The Dragon was about to protest that his singing was sublime, but they were at the door of the little wooden shed that The Woodcutter lived in, as far away from civilisation as possible. Given that he was so antisocial, The Dragon was always surprised at how active The Woodcutter was on social media. But he supposed that was fairly standard for entrepreneurial introverts.
The door creaked slowly open as a grizzled face appeared from behind it, asking warily “What do you want, Princess?” And then when he saw The Dragon, “Oh. You here too?”
“I’m really sorry to disturb you,” said Alice, politely “but we’ve got a bit an emergency situation, and I didn’t know who else to turn to. The gin bill is due next week, and I haven’t anything in the coffers, and” she lowered her voice, ”you know how he gets when we’re low on gin”. She nodded towards the twelve-foot tall Dragon, who just raised his eyebrows haughtily in return.
The Woodcutter did, indeed, understand what The Dragon was like when he didn’t have his traditional lunchtime G&T. He sighed heavily, and then slowly, came out of the shed.
He carefully closed the door behind him. Shuffling over to his favourite log, he sat down and took out a small knife. Picking up a short stick from behind the log, he began to whittle it, as he asked:
“So what do you need to know?”
“Basically,” said Alice, “I need to know how to boost
The Woodcutter put down his stick, sucked on his teeth, and then tutted a few times. He gazed over their shoulders, as if lost in thought for a moment, and then he started to talk…