GERTIE, EARL & ENDICOT 1.1
It’s time you learned the truth about dragons. They’ve been called many names, depending on where you’re sitting and who’s doing the talking. Most of ‘em have been right slandered and that’s the truth of it. Yes, sir. Now, I ain’t saying as all dragons are good, but I sure ain’t saying as all of them are bad, neither. Just like most folks, dragons got all sorts of personalities and you just can’t get along with all of them, not in a million years. But if you meet one that you like, and he in turn likes you, well, that could be the start of a beautiful friendship. Such was the case for a ten-year-old Georgia boy named Earl Crawford.

Earl lived in a small town just south of Macon called St. Henry. There ain’t much to tell you about St. Henry that you couldn’t learn by visiting there. In many ways, it was your typical small town. It had grocery store, a pharmacy, a library, a fire station, a school, three First Baptist churches, the “Georgia Peach” fast food restaurant, and of course, a volcano.

Old Thundertop.

Simply gorgeous. It rose from the red Georgia earth at the south end of Main street, and gradually got darker and darker nearer to the summit, so that its peak was as black as a night in the bottom of a well, and its base was as red as the devil’s underwear. It had gently sloping sides which made it excellent for hiking, and better still, it was riddled with caves and tunnels. Sometimes rivers of steam curled out of these tunnels and wormed their way around the base of the volcano, making it look like it was floating on a cloud. Sometimes a loud bang would send foul smelling gasses out of the top, and St. Henry’s would be awash in the farty stink. Mostly though, Old Thundertop lay like a dog on a hot porch in summertime, sleepy and not inclined to activity. It hadn’t erupted in over two hundred years. That is to say, it hadn’t gone off at all, until the day Earl Crawford woke a sleeping dragon.