Today’s dig was right out of a monster movie. Scaramunchkin vs. Marinegunkelly, a battle royale between the small, yappy Minnymeesaurid and the Super Salamander. A classic David and Goliath struggle gone horribly wrong. Marinegunkelly is the newcomer to the oval dwelling. The tale of the tape — he’s a six-foot-long primitive amphibian with hundreds of sharp teeth in his big, flat, toilet-seat-like head.
From day one, this dig has seen one power struggle after another. This is the nature of the Tyrumposaurus neighborhood. This latest skirmish however was one for the Mesozoic Era — the Scaramunchkin’s bones were that munched. I’ve retraced the bones to the accident scene and it apparently went down like this …
Nanometric carbon dating shows it was Marinegunkelly’s first day in the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir. He was holding court in the morning, telling old marshland security stories to the other dinosaurs, amphibious and non-swimmers alike.
“There’s a new super salamander in this oval dwelling and if you want to spend any time with the T-Rump, you have to go through me.”
The Scaramunchkin stepped forward from the crowd, waving his small arms.
“Just what we need, another freaking paranoid schizophrenic.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, you’re not going to stop-block me from seeing the T-Rump. The Munchkin — that’s me — I showed up a week-and-a-half ago. I’m getting the T-Rump back on track so we can clean up this reservoir.”
The Marinegunkelly eyed him with steely reserve.
“Come closer, my little munchkin.”
“Why?” The Scaramunchkin eyed the Marinegunkelly warily.
“I think you have a leak in your ear,” said the car-sized salamander.
“Leak!? Where?” He turned to look around.
It was a trick. The toilet-seat head clamped down on the Scaramunchkin’s scrawny tail.
“A-a-a-a-g-g-g-h! Let go! What are you doing?!”
“If you want to eat an eritherium* you have to eat it one bite at a time.”
“Get off me, you stupid #$?!% salamander! You freaking frog! You #$?!% numbskull newt!”
The late-arriving Priebusunderbus stepped forward for a better view. The Scaramunchkin saw him and went Diplodocus dippy.
“Get out of here, you #$?!% Cain and Abel Cheesehead! … Before I leak your #$?!% blood!”
The Priebusunderbus kept his cool, turning to the Marinegunkelly.
Make him say, “tweet, tweet, twitter, tweet, tweet.”
This of course was the height of dinosaur insults, referring to one as a Trollertweety, or flying chicken.
The front-stabbing shot hit its mark. The Scaramunchkin’s small brain spasmed and his body went limp. He was alive but just barely, feebly mouthing the words “stop-block” over and over.
Sensing there must be something wrong with his food, the Marinegunkelly stopped chewing and released the Minnymeesaurid onto the mud. Plop.
A pair of burly Tyrumposaurae stepped forward and escorted the Scaramunchkin away from the oval dwelling to the nearby Neverland of Birthingexmates.
Game, set, oval dwelling, Marinegunkelly.
David Belisle 