Velma was such a good cat. Every morning the dragon, Gluttonious Jones, awoke to the kitten's gentle purring. In the evening, after a long day of ravaging and scorching, Glut could count on Velma's pleasant company. At the moment, Velma was helping Glut prepare lunch. On top of a four- foot kaiser roll laid the delicious brown young woman who Velma had lured to the cavern, still wearing her palatable sweat outfit (a little cotton added some much needed roughage to a dragon's diet). The woman's feet, face, and hands had been coated in a low-fat chipotle sauce, and Velma insisted that Glut cover her wriggling sandwich meat with healthy tomatoes and lettuce. Glut's meal preparation was interrupted by a long fit of spasmodic coughing. Between hacks and wheezes, the dragon aimed its head toward the roof of the cave and shot flames. "My, I don't know what I'm coming down with," it muttered as it placed the top bun, covered in mustard, on top of Miss Gupta. Glut lifted the human sandwich to her large mouth. Just as the dragon was about to take the first bite, Amy shouted, "Don't eat me! ...
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