World's Oldest Living Dragon Read Free Page B

at answers, though. Not since Knightshredder dealt me that blow to the noggin. Now there was a dragon, sir. Full of—”
    Janice snapped her gum. “Here’s the question, sir,” she said. “The dragon Grizzlegore has a secret weakness. It may have something to do with a rhyme. Do you know anything about it?”
    â€œAh, yes, Grizzlegore’s rhyme,” Sir Mort said dreamily. “In my salad days, I could recite it from beginning to end.”
    â€œCan you say it now, sir?” asked Erica.
    â€œSay it! Say it!” chanted Sir Mort’s class, hoping to get out of any work.
    Sir Mort frowned. “How does it start? There’s a first verse. I remember that. Then a second. Goes on like that, verse after verse.” He thought for a long time.
    At last Wiglaf said, “Sir? Do you remember why this rhyme is Grizzlegore’s weakness?”
    â€œWhy, indeed?” Sir Mort nodded. “Excellent question.”
    â€œWhat is the answer, sir?” said Erica.
    â€œSearch me.” Sir Mort shrugged. “Don’t have a clue.”

    The next morning, Wiglaf and his friends set off once more for Ye Olde Home.
    â€œMaybe one of the aged knights will know about the rhyme,” said Wiglaf as they went.
    â€œNot a chance,” said Angus. “Those geezers are in worse shape than Sir Mort.”
    â€œYou never know,” said Janice. “My grandpa can’t remember yesterday. Yet if you ask about his school days, he’s as sharp as a sword tip.”
    â€œSir Lancelot will know the rhyme,” said Erica loyally.
    â€œ Hola! Hello!” Donn exclaimed as he opened the door of Ye Olde Home. “Come! I shall take you to the knights. They will be so glad to see you again.”
    This time Donn led them to the sitting room. Wiglaf saw that today, the aged knights were working on craft projects. Some were weaving tapestries. Others were weaving cauldron-holders. Still others held paintbrushes and were making pictures from paint-by-roman-numeral kits.
    â€œ Señor knights!” Donn called. “Your young friends are here to visit you!”
    A few aged knights waved, but most were too busy with their crafts.
    The four made their way over to where Sir Lancelot, Sir Roger, and Sir Poodleduff sat. They were molding little dragons out of clay.
    â€œI slew a dragon once with only a dagger,” Sir Poodleduff was saying.
    â€œSo?” said Sir Roger. “I once slew a dragon with only my peashooter.”
    â€œI,” said Sir Lancelot, “once made the dragon Flibbergill fall down dead simply by staring him in the eye.”
    â€œBraggart!” said Sir Poodleduff.
    â€œLiar!” said Sir Roger.
    â€œâ€™Tis true what Sir Lancelot says,” said Erica. “He wrote about Flibbergill’s death-by-staring on page three hundred and fifty-eight of A Knight Like I .”
    Sir Lancelot smiled. “So I did.” He patted Erica on the head. “I like this lass!”
    Erica beamed.
    â€œPlease, sirs, we have a question for you,” said Janice.
    â€œYes,” said Wiglaf. “We went to the library and looked up the secret weakness of the dragon Grizzlegore.”
    â€œThe book said, ‘Take the time to learn the rhyme,’” said Angus.
    â€œDo you know what that means?” asked Erica.
    â€œGrizzlegore?” Sir Roger shook his bald head. “Do you recall that dragon, Poodleduff?”
    â€œNay,” said Sir Poodleduff. “Perhaps you mean Grapplegrin. Now there’s a scary dragon. Claws like sickles.”
    â€œWhat did I tell you?” Angus murmured. “They’re just like Sir Mort.”
    â€œWe mean Grizzlegore,” said Wiglaf.
    â€œI know of him,” said Sir Lancelot. “When my far-older half brother, Liverspot, was a lad, he had to learn a long poem about Grizzlegore.”
    â€œHmmm,” said Sir Roger. “It’s coming back to me