Once upon a time there was a terrifying dragon and a peaceful, sleepy village. Every new moon the dragon would burn the village to the ground, steal livestock and kill any that got in its way. This went on for hundreds of years until the villagers finally had enough. They put out a call for a dragon slayer. Soon their call was answered.
The first to show up was a brave young knight in shining armour atop a powerful black steed. The knight wielded an awesome sword with a jewel encrusted scabbard and ivory-gilded hilt.
The second was a mysterious wizard who arrived in a puff of smoke and spoke with a voice that boomed like thunder. The wizard’s eyes were an unnatural shade of green and glinted even when no sun shone on them.
The third dragon slayer to arrive was a young boy no older than five years old. He was dressed like a pauper and had messy hair. The boy had the usual childlike wonder and optimism in his eyes and smiled whenever he spoke.
The townspeople asked each of their heroes how they would slay the dragon.
“I will have an epic battle with the dragon and cut off its head,” said the knight.
“I will turn the dragon into a harmless frog,” said the wizard.
“I will give the dragon a hug and teach it to not be so mean,” said the little boy.
The villagers were shocked. Surely they could not let this naïve child walk to his death. But it was too late, all three dragon slayers had left to be the first to defeat the terrifying monster.
The villagers only had wait until the next sunrise to learn which of their heroes was successful. At dawn the wizard stumbled back badly burned. It was certain that he would die from his wounds.
“It was horrible, the knight went charging in, screaming at the top of his lungs and the beast burned him and his horse to ash.”
The villagers once again were horrified. They asked about the little boy. The wizard shook his head.
“He walked up to it arms outstretched and it swatted him away. I still remember him bouncing as he went flying into the forest. I’m sorry we have failed you so miserably.”
With that the wizard breathed his last.
The villagers realized that their situation was hopeless. Their only choice would be to leave their ancestral home. But, just as they were packing up their worldly goods the little boy walked into town, drenched in blood, carrying the knight’s sword in one hand and dragging the dragon’s head in the other. The look of optimism was gone from his eyes.
“Fuck hugs,” was all he said as he walked on.