"I feel like my head got into an argument with a plowing battering ram," Geralt said as we rolled off the thin straw pallet sitting on the floor of the Inn's attic. The sunlight streamed into the attic through a small square window, and to Geralt's hungover eyes it felt almost supernaturally bright. And then there was the noise going on outside. It sounded as if a pride of angry lions had decided to for the worlds worst percussion band.

Geralt rolled over one more time before forcing himself to sit up. On the other side of the attic, he spotted Dandelion snoring on what appeared to be a proper bed. "and of course he leaves the shit bed for the old man," Geralt thought to himself as he walked over to wake Dandelion up. Dandelion had a penchant for talking as he slept, and this morning his voice sound obnoxiously loud to Geralt's sensitive ears.

"Yes, yes, your breasts are amazing." Geralt cringed. Dandelion was almost always in a foul mood when woken from such dreams. Today, Geralt did not care. He was annoyed and hungover enough on his own that he did not even bother to care.

"Dandelion, wake up!" Geralt said, as he shook Dandelion's shoulder.

"Yes, yes anything for you my beauti- oh dammit Geralt you know how I feel when you wake me up like that!" Dandelion could be rather predictable.

"There is a difference between knowing and caring. Now can you please tell me how I got here and what that racket is?" Geralt asked. Dandelion sighed

"You drank twenty pints of ale, threw up all over the town whore, got in the bar fight to end all bar fights, and then the dragon moved into town. I think that about covers it."

"Dragon. Did you say dragon? What dragon? I am in no mood for your jokes this morning."

"That dragon." Dandelion pointed out the window. Geralt turned to look through the window. And then he saw is. An adult dragon in all of it's glory and spectacle. It stood taller than a house, and was so wide as to almost completely fill the town square. It also happened to be bright pink.

"It's too early in the morning for this shit." Geralt said, as he dumped the water bucket that was sitting next to the washbasin over his head.

"Well judging by the high of the sun I would say that it is well past noon."

"I. Don't. Care." Geralt dried off his head with Dandelion's bed sheet. "I propose that we pack up, and make haste for the next village."

"But what about the dragon?"

"Plow the dragon. It can burn down the entire fucking town for all I care."

"Well you are going to have to do something about it, because it is blocking the only gate that leads out of the city walls."

"Fine, I am going to go and gut that thing like an oversized fish, take every Oren in the town's treasury, and then we are leaving." Geralt started walking towards the trap door, before stopping and realizing something important was missing. "Pox, shit, and leprosy Dandelion, where is my silver sword?"

"Your sword?"

"Yes Dandelion, my sword. My silver sword. One of the crucial instruments of my profession. It's not here. Where is it?"

"I might have lost it."

"Lost it. A sword worth hundreds of Orens, and you lost it. How did you lose it?"

"I might have been playing dice poker."

"Dice poker."

Yes. Dice poker. The whores here are really expensive and you threw up all over the one I bought with the last of our money. What else was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, not gamble away one of my two most important earthly possessions?"

An awkward silence descended over the attic. Geralt and Dandelion stared at each other, not knowing what to do or say next. Eventually Dandelion broke the silence.

"I think we need to do something."

"Probably." Geralt sighed.

"I'll go outside and try to occupy the dragon with my poetry while you go and get your sword back."

"We want to distract the dragon, not force it into a blind rage."

"My poetry isn't that bad."

"To each his own."

"Well, if you want an idea of where your sword is, I lost it in a tavern on the other side of town called The Drunken Bear. The barkeep there should have an idea where it might have gone."

"This is going to be a long day isn't it."

"Probably." With that, they descended from the attic began the arduous process of confronting the day.