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After tossing and turning for several minutes, Wilker eventually made himself fall asleep on his couch while the dragon slept in his bed, stinking up his room. He had no problem with farting in the bed, but the dragon just wouldn't stop and he had a feeling he'd suffocate under the heat, so he took his chances and slept on the couch. But even then, his sleep still wasn't a pleasurable one, because the dragon was the one who decided to wake him up.

"DA-DA!!"

Wilker didn't hear anything, so he continued to snooze away.

"Hey Da-da! Wake up Da-da!" said the dragon again.

Wilker heard him this time and groaned loudly in his sleep, turning over and laying on his side.

"Get up Da-da! C'mon Da-da get up! Get up!"

The dragon hit Wilker in the back with his head like a ram would, compelling Wilker to open his eyes and groan loudly. Still, Wilker pretended to be asleep.

"Get up! Get up! Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up, get up, get up, get up,"

The dragon said that over and over and over again, relentlessly slamming into Wilker like a ram. Wilker kept groaning, hoping the infant dragon would tire himself out so he could get more sleep. But then he remembered that it was a dragon, let alone a baby, so the chances of him cooling off were very slim.

"Get up, get up, get up, get up-"

"WHAT!!" shouted Wilker.

"I'm hungry!"

"Can you please wait until...?"

Wilker examined the dragon more closely, noticing something different about him.

"Did you get bigger overnight?"

Wilker noticed the dragon was bigger than the night before and his wings had expanded. He was still roughly the size of a common house dog, but he was definitely bigger.

"I'm hungry! Can we eat now?!"

Wilker sighed. He really didn't feel like fixing breakfast this early in the morning for the dragon but he knew if he didn't, he'd start crying like last night.

"Okay, let's go find you something."

"YAAAAAAYY!!!" yelled the dragon, hopping up in the air.

Wilker walked over to his fridge and opened it up, looking for something that would seem appealing to the dragon's tastes. The gray wolf took out an apple and tossed it at the dragon, waiting for him to gobble it up within seconds. But after the dragon sniffed the apple, he groaned and scooted the apple away, walking back over to Wilker.

"Right, I doubt dragons would eat much fruit. How's about bacon?"

The dragon gasped with glee and sat down like a dog, wagging his tail repeatedly with his tongue hanging out, waiting to accept his sliced pork treat. Wilker tossed the bacon over to the dragon and watched as he hopped into the air, ravenously gulping down the bacon and begging for more. He tossed three pieces of bacon at the dragon and watched as he quickly gulped them all down, begging for even more slices. Wilker even tossed a few into the air for him to eat, but the dragon back-flipped at the last second and grabbed them all with his tongue, eating them and slobbering all over the floor.

"Hey, that was mine!" said Wilker.

The dragon started panting again, longing for more bacon. Wilker tossed two across the living room and quickly gulped down four slices himself before the dragon noticed. Sure, he didn't feel like eating or being conscious right now, but he figured since he was already up, he might as well eat breakfast now. After swallowing half a pack of Oscar Mayer bacon stripes, Wilker put the pack back into the fridge and the dragon fell on his back, patting his belly and licking his scaly lips.

"Mmm! I love the greasy taste of bacon! Can I have some more? Huh, can I? Can I? Can I? Can I? Can I? Can I?"

"Please stop talking..." said Wilker, rubbing his scalp.

"Cool, you have an awesome couch! I wanna go rip it up!"

"No, don't do that!" protested Wilker.

But the adolescent dragon rushed over to the couch and started jumping up and down on the cushion, ripping up the fabric like he was a cat.

"Wow, this couch is so comfy, it's like sitting on a cloud! I like clouds, especially the ones shaped like trains and cars and Easter eggs and push-pins and underwear-how come I don't wear underwear? It'd feel very comfy, just like a diaper but I can't poop in it without getting in trouble. Heh heh...underwear's a funny word. Underwear, underwear, underwear, underwear, not up there or over here, not so high or small like a fly, it's underwear! Underwear, underwear, underwear!!!"

"Christ, this kid's jacked up on crack." whispered Wilker, watching the baby dragon jump up and down rambling on and on.

Wilker walked over to the couch and sat down next to the dragon.

"Hey Da-da, can we play now?"

"Not yet. I'm not sure if you've noticed yet, but I'm not your Da-da."

The dragon giggled. "Yes, you are!"

"No I'm not."

"Yeah you are."

"No I'm not."

"Are too!"

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"Am-God I'm arguing with a two year old!" huffed Wilker.

"Look I know I may seem like your Da-da, but we're nothing alike! You have scales and I have fur. You have wings and I don't. You can breathe fire and I can't. We're not even the same species. How could I possibly be your Da-da?"

"...But if-if that's true, where's my real Da-da?"

"I'm not sure."

The dragon started to whine and sniffled a few times, ready to burst out in tears again.

"But-but, that doesn't mean I won't take care of you. Think of me as your big canine brother with no wings and fur on his back."

"Can I still call you Da-da?"

Wilker sighed. "Yes, you can still call me Da-da."

"YAAAAAAAYYY!!!" shouted the dragon, before latching onto Wilker with his claws again.

"OW! Watch the claws, watch the claws!" said Wilker, slowly scraping the dragon off his fur.

"So what's your name?"

"Um...I guess I don't have one! Why don't you name me?"

Wilker shrugged. "Does Daran suit you?"

The dragon scratched his chin. "It does have a nice ring to it. Okay! Call me Daran the Dragon!" said Daran, smiling widely.

"So you want to watch wrestling?"

"NO! Daran wants to watch Teletubbies!"

"...No. We're watching wrestling."

"Teletubbies!"

"Wrestling!"

"Teletubbies!"

Wilker and Daran looked ahead and saw the remote control lying on the table. Both of them leaped for the controller and started fighting over which TV show they wanted to watch, grunting and muttering every couple of seconds. In the midst of the confusion, Daran farted loudly and Wilker was forced to inhale the odor, plugging his nose afterwards. Daran smiled deviously and turned around, aiming his diaper covered rump at Wilker.

"DON'T YOU DARE!!!"

Daran lifted his tail and farted in Wilker's face several times, laughing in a goofy tone as he witnessed Wilker waft the smell away and hand Daran the remote control. The smell of rotting eggs and dirty diapers mixed with bacon and a dragon's posterior wasn't something you wanted to smell at dawn.

"Either Daran watches Teletubbies or Da-da has to smell Daran's stinky farts."

"But-"

Daran lifted his tail again and let out a sustained burst of flatulence as a warning to the grey wolf. Wilker, not wanting to be smothered in dragon gas again, sighed heavily and complied with Daran.

"Okay you can watch your show."

"YAAAAAAAAAYY!!!"