World's Oldest Living Dragon Read Free

own teeth.”
    â€œMy hero Sir Lancelot always tried his best,” Erica muttered.
    If Sir Lancelot heard her, he pretended not to.
    On their way back to DSA, Janice picked up a piece of parchment lying in the path. She began reading it.
    Erica was very glum as she went. She kept saying, “I can’t believe it!”
    â€œI can’t believe this ,” Janice said suddenly, stopping in her tracks. “A dragon is in the neighborhood.”
    Wiglaf and the others stood on tiptoe and read over her shoulder:
    I, GRIZZLEGORE,
THE WORLD’S OLDEST LIVING DRAGON,
HAVE MOVED TO A CAVE NEAR YOUR SCHOOL.
I’LL BE STOPPING BY
FOR A NEIGHBORLY VISIT SOON.
HERE’S MY SCHEDULE:
DRAGON WHACKERS ALTERNATIVE SCHOOL—ST. HELGA’S DAY
KNIGHTS ‘R’ US—ST. BART’S MOTHER’S SISTER’S EVE
PRINCESS PREP—ST. TRIFFID’S BAKE-A-PIE DAY
KNIGHTS NOBLE CONSERVATORY—SPRING FLING WEEKEND
DRAGON STABBERS PREPARATORY—JOHANN THE PEDDLER’S DAY
DRAGON SLAYERS’ ACADEMY—APRIL FOOLS’ DAY
WHEN I ARRIVE, HAND OVER
ALL YOUR GOLD,
OR SEE YOUR SCHOOL GO UP IN FLAMES.
YOUR FAVORITE FIRE-BREATHER,
GRIZZLEGORE, W.O.L.D.
    â€œHe is planning to hit DSA!” Wiglaf cried. “We must show this to Mordred.”
    They started running. They came upon another copy of Grizzlegore’s schedule. And another. The whole path was littered with them.
    â€œThe dragon must have dropped them all over the neighborhood,” Angus said, panting.
    Back at school, they found the headmaster in his office. Janice handed him the parchment. As Mordred read, Wiglaf saw his face go purple with rage.
    â€œMordred looks like he might explode,” whispered Janice. “My Uncle Giles exploded. Boy, was that ever a mess.”
    Wiglaf tried not to think about Janice’s exploding uncle.
    Mordred wadded the parchment into a ball and threw it to the floor. “Threaten to burn down my school, do you, Grizzlegore?” he cried. “Well, go ahead. But you’re not getting your claws on any of my precious gold.”
    â€œGood sir!” cried Wiglaf. “What are you saying?”
    â€œI’m saying no to Grizzlegore, that’s what I’m saying!” shouted Mordred, still purple as a plum. “No gold, no how. DSA—up in flames? Pity. But all good things must come to an end. I’m packing up and getting out of here.” He began tossing items on his desk into a bag.
    â€œDon’t let our school go up in flames, Uncle!” cried Angus. “Please! Give the dragon some gold!”
    â€œNephew!” barked Mordred. “Bite your tongue!”
    The four left Mordred to his packing and headed for the dining hall.
    Angus shook his head. “I knew Uncle Mordred was greedy,” he said, “but I didn’t know he was this greedy.”
    â€œWe can’t let a dragon burn down our school,” said Janice.
    â€œYou’re right, Janice,” said Erica. “It’s up to us to save DSA.”
    â€œMaybe Grizzlegore is all bluster,” said Angus. “I mean, if he’s really that old, how much damage could he do?”
    â€œWhy don’t we look him up in Brother Dave’s book?” suggested Wiglaf.
    After supper, that is exactly what they did.
    â€œBrother Dave?” called Wiglaf as he climbed up the last of the 427 steps to the library tower. “Are you here?”
    â€œCometh thee in!” called Brother Dave. The little monk sat behind the circulation desk, knitting a long red scarf. A candle beside him was burning low. When he saw students entering his library, his eyes lit up with joy.
    Angus was the last one through the library door. Huffing and puffing, he flung himself down onto a large dragon-shaped pillow under the window.
    â€œWhat canst I doeth for thee, lads and lasses?” asked Brother Dave. “I haveth some fine new books. Jousting to Victory, by Ray