The dino judge, the Emmetsullivan, squatted upon his judicial bedrock. It was Monday morning. Following a nice, leisurely weekend dining on Denversaurus sandwiches in Hell Creek, it was back to work. …
The Stephenmillerus looked out at the overflowing dino crowd and frowned. He had a bad feeling about this. The Tyrumposaurus had wanted to do yet another vanity roadshow to win over middle-of-the-rock-sitting dinos.
But here at the biggest Feminist Movement in the Milkanhoney Preservation? …
“He’s coming!” hissed the Linseygraham. “Quick! Everyone, hide! And wait for my signal.”
A dozen dinos scurried for cover in the Oval Dwelling behind large rocks and piles of discarded Cheezbuggabuggas and soggy Dietcoker leaves.
The Tyrumposaurus sauntered into the cave
Slurp. Slurp. Lick. Lick. Slurp. Lick.
Tongues wagged, saliva dripped and the mass exfoliation continued upon the Tyrumposaurus’ soiled, stinky feet. It was the daily foot-licking session in the Oval Dwelling.
“You want to run that by me again?”
Milkanhoney Preservation District Dino Judge, the Amitmehta, stared down from his lofty, rocky perch at the T-Rump legal dino, the Williamconsovoy.
“Certainly, your long-tailedness. You see, we simply can’t have those dastardly Donkeykongrus dinos …
The Tyrumposaurus cocked an ear and frowned. Damn. It was the Tymelania. He swallowed the rest of his Dietcoker and trudged to the doorway of the Oval Dwelling.
“May I come in?” she asked.
“What do you want?”
“I’m your wife, remember?” …