The Francisrooney smacked his lips and sank his teeth into a succulent paleo-bartlett pear. The Citrondental or “Fruity Tooth” dino from the Neverglades spit out the core and reached for another. Lining up with the Tyrumposaurus as a member of the Grandoldparty dinosaurs had its perks, including the first pick of the tree. He tugged the pear-laden branch down and looked straight into the grave face of the Saveyourenergyrex, who always looked to be suffering from a massive headache.
“What can I do for you?” asked the Francisrooney. “A pear perhaps?” He offered a branch.
The Saveyourenergyrex shook his head, his low brow furrowing deeper into his scaly skull.
“There’s been a purge.”
“They’re called pears.”
“Not the fruit. I’m talking about your family. We purged your family.”
The Francisrooney’s pear hit the ground with a thud.
The Saveyourenergyrex frowned at having to repeat himself.
“We purged them. Your brothers, the Patrickrooney, the Timothyrooney, the Jamesrooney and your sisters, the Lucyrooney and the Rebeccarooney. Gone. All gone. Purge with a capital ‘P’.”
“Please, I’m not done yet. We also purged your wife, the Kathleenrooney and your mother, the Lucyturnerrooney. We didn’t have to purge your father, the Laurencerooney, because he was already extinct. But we did manage to purge your immediate family.”
“Oh, yes,” nodded the Saveyourenegyrex. “The Kathleenrooney, your sons, the Larryrooney and the Michaelrooney. Let’s not forget your daughter, the Kathleendalyrooney.
The Saveyourenergyrex looked at the Francisrooney standing there with his mouth gaping open, his drool pooling on the ground.
“You look surprised.”
“Francis, these are tough political times we live in. The Strzokpeter made a wisecrack about the T-Rump and you in turn wanted a purge of the Langleyops.”
“But I’m not maybe the most nuanced political dinosaur in the world.”
“Do you even know what ‘nuance’ means?”
“A subtle difference?”
“And you call yourself a political dinosaur. How can you use subtle and purge in the same sentence? Why, that’s like political lifeblood and herpes.”
“It’s been done?”
“Unfortunately. … Francis, have you already forgotten the Shanghai Disaster … or the Night of the Long Tails? Good god, dino, you do recall the Great Purge?”
“I’m not maybe the most historical dinosaur in the world.”
“Then allow me to fill in some blanks. The Stalinator wiped out about a million of his own dinosaurs. Do you know how many dino bones that is?”
“I’m not maybe the most mathematical dinosaur in the world.”
“Be that as it may, we still have some numbers to crunch.”
“Your extended family,” said the Saveyourenergyrex. “A purge is after all, top to bottom.”
“You want to kill every dino I know?”
“I was just thinking family, but you’ve raised a fair point. Sure, give me what you’ve got. I’m sure at least one of them must have made one tiny, little, sniggling remark about the Crookadillary.”
“But she’s not even the leader!”
“Tell that to the Foxsquawkbox.”
The Saveyourenergyrex turned away, leaving the Francisrooney to stare down dejectedly at his discarded pears on the ground. His fruity tooth didn’t feel so fruity any more. The Saveyourenergyrex paused and turned around.
“I’m kidding about the purge.”
A look of horror hit the Francisrooney’s face.
“How could you?”
“Well, I addressed the Mediacircustops today … and it struck me that maybe they think I don’t have a sense of humor.”