Dragon in My Pocket

On my way home through the park, I spotted a red egg lying on the ground. I picked it up and tucked it into my pocket. A few hours later, back home, I tossed my clothes into the laundry basket, completely forgetting the egg was still in there. Turns out, the washing machine was the perfect place for it to hatch. I heard a strange cracking sound coming from the laundry room and ran in to check. And there it was: a beautiful, tiny, adorable, magnificent… okay, that’s too many adjectives… dragon, wriggling its way out of its shell. I decided it needed a name right away. “I’ll call you Scruffy.” I searched online for “how to take care of a pet dragon,” and it said to feed it water and food, wash it, play with it, and put it to sleep. So I picked him up and tried to feed him, but nothing worked. So then I offered him water, and he drank it eagerly. Next up, a bath in the sink, since he looked a little grubby. I washed him carefully. I tried to play with him by throwing a ball at him, but it just flew right past him. “Yaaawn,” he said. Bedtime, apparently, even though it was only seven o’clock. I tucked him in, and that’s when I saw something strange outside the window: a massive, blood-red dragon staring back at me. Scruffy’s mother. I scooped him up gently and handed him over. She spread her wings and flew off gracefully, and as they disappeared into the night, Scruffy looked back at me and smiled.