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The Dragon was in an irritable mood. He'd been awoken that morning by the sound of snoring. Someone else snoring. Now it has to be said that the Dragon does not have much dating experience. When he whispers sweet nothings into the ear of his amour, she tends not to get the giggles and goosebumps, being more concerned with her 3rd degree burns that will probably need extensive plastic surgery. Therefore, the nocturnal noises of A. N. Other were sufficiently unusual to disturb his hungover slumber. After looking, bleary-eyed, around his island, he found that the signpost seemed to have, well, more body than usual. The body, in fact, of the ogre.

The Dragon muttered to himself. He had untied the ogre and sent him stumbling back to the mainland to his doom, but then sat and wondered if it would be so bad to be doomed. As has been previously noted, any 'faux pas' encountered on a romantic occasion tends to spread through the dating community like (if you will excuse the pun) wildfire. The Dragon lay on his back considering and blowing perfect smoke rings. As he watched the smoke rings dwindle, he suddenly realised what he must do.

The Dragon was going to give up smoking.

This was definitively not going to be easy. Smoking is, lets face it, part and parcel of being a dragon. If there was a smokin' gun in The Land, it would be big, pink and scaly. He was going to need help.

Ten minutes later, the Dragon was sitting in the Library of the Ancestors (Open Mon-Thurs, 9 while 5pm, Fridays 9 'til noon). He was surrounded by self-help books. After putting aside those with titles such as "Step out of your comfort zone!" and "Dive into the lake of you!", he settled on 2 or 3 books and began to read.

A couple of days later and the Dragon was confused. He had tried the patches recommended by one of the books, but they took forever to download, giving him even more time to give in to his cravings. Another book had recommended using a substitute. Now, apart from feeling goddamned stupid, it had had no effect other than to prompt some of the 'wittier' mobiles to utter comments such as "Stick-ing with it then?", "Wood you like a light?" and "That's a peculiar brand you're not smoking ". Oh, my sides. Eventually, the Dragon had removed the unlit brand from the side of his mouth and used it to harpoon the worst of the offenders. Luckily for the Dragon, it was the octopus.

Now The Land had pretty much emptied of mortals as the Dragon searched for his 'munchies' to chew in order to forget his cravings. (One mortal in particular was very aware that "Mrsoft the minty" was probably the last name in The Land that would ensure his survival ...). Upon spearing the octopus, the Dragon started to chew, and chew ... and chew! This helped! The longer he chewed on something, the longer he wasn't smoking! After a life-time of smoking, he couldn't taste a thing, but it didn't matter. Now he could cope a little better and start looking for that elusive prize ... a cure!

"You vant me to vot?" asked the vampire in disbelief.

"Hypnotise me," muttered the Dragon, trying not to gaze longingly at the slender cigarette holder in the vampire's hand.

"Vell, OK," sighed the vampire, as he picked up the pendant and started to swing it rhythmically, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth ...

"You are feeling verrrrrry sleepy ..."

It didn't work. The Dragon still craved a smoke. The rest of The Land, however, knew that he believed he was Napolean in a previous life and that certain words, when correctly phrased, would immediately make him think he was a chicken ...

It had been 3 weeks. 3 weeks of torment. 3 weeks of avoiding the Inn (drinking and smoking being one and the same past-time). 3 weeks of chewing octopus. 3 weeks of hanging around the fiery pit, inhaling sheepishly. 3 weeks of getting more and more irritable with visitors to his isle ...

"No thank you, I've stopped."

"Very kind, but no thank you."

"I don't do that any more, ta."

"No. Thanks."

"No."

"Look, just piss off, will you?!"

A sudden flash of insight ... erm, well ... flashed through the Dragons mind. He found that his senses were now much clearer! His sense of smell was much sharper! His tastebuds were waking up again, allowing him to savour the flavour! His chest no longer felt tight, and his lungs could expand, filling with hitherto unthought of quantities of fresh air!

And, as the Dragon thought about these non-smoking rewards, he inhaled deeply, allowing his rediscovered sense of smell to pick up every nuance of the morning air as he chewed his breakfast, letting the flavours explode over his tongue.

In retrospect, it was unfortunate that the Dragon had undergone these revelations of smell and taste whilst sitting in the methane-filled swamp, chewing day-old raw seafood ...

"Bugger this!" roared a voice.

HAAAAAAAWUUUUMMMPH!!!