Duke: “That desert was sure scrumptious, Hank.”
Hank: “Would you stop spitting flames every two feet? We’ve been in Los Angeles this entire trimester. No squirrel could survive a climate like that.”
“What’s a—”
“I will not have such outlandish tongue in my esteemed presence, for slain wildebeests lay within the black disease just ahead.”
“Is that why the sours are so shy?”
“Dearest Duke, dinosaurs have not trampled this terrain for many a year.”
“How many?”
“Quite a lot.”
“That’s tons of birthdays.”
“Correct, Duke. The earth is happy dinosaurs have been vanquished from existence. Just look at that cowboy singing over there; he seems quite content with the situation.”
“I kind of like his style if you care to ask me, Hank.”
“Figures.”
“How many fingers?”
“Ninety-nine thousand.”
“That’s a lot of palms, right?”
“Good lord.”
“So they say.”
“Nothing can snap you out of this hallucinogenic spell.”
“Maybe a witch who is Jack of all trades or something. Can I go swimming, Hank? It’s awfully hot and the sours seem to be having fun.”
“You dare dip one toe in that swamp and it will be the last you ever take.”
“My dream is to catch fish in a barrel. Olly Olly Oxen Free.”
“Do be careful, Duke, for we both know you cannot swim. As for myself, I will be heading over to the Page-Turner Museum. Meet me there if you survive the plunge.”
“I’ve chickened out, Hank. Those sourpusses don’t seem like they’re having fun. It’s a bubbling mess out here anyways, or something.”
“Then allow me to educate you.”
Hank and Duke inside the Page Museum
Tags: commentary, dinosaurs, duke, fiction, fossils, hank, humor, la brea tar pits, page museum, saber tooth tiger, short-faced bear
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Duke: “I’ve never seen so much blackness in my wildest. I don’t have cat eyes or dog noses. I’m not a sour neither. I’m a McOthers and we stick together.”
Hank: “You’ve blackened and blued your king. I have let it slide due to the dense visibility within its intellectual space.”
“Are we on another planet?”
“Incorrect.”
“I got it—we’re a Moon Men on Man Moon.”
“Have to regret you are wrong. Quit guessing and then maybe I will tell you where we are. The Page-Turner Museum holds special significance to society. Why, dinosaur fossils have been excavated beneath your fat toes.”
“From what cave?”
“Excavated, you fool.”
“I’ve been thinking I’ve been rhinoed about that there one, but maybe I’m wrong.”
“If you come here, I will show you.”
“Where?”
“Take my hand.”
“I already have two, I think, so why would I need another one?”
“It’s an expression.”
“Hank, you never told me we were in a graveyard. Why did you take me here? I’m going to have bad dreams unless this is another pirate riot.”
“I’m sorry to trouble you, but these fossils are on display to show us what the dinosaur really was. Their discovery has prompted the growth in technology, piquing interest in the general germ.”
“They were swimming forty-seven seconds ago, right Hank?”
“I’m afraid not, Duke, for those were images of a past that no longer exists.”
“But, the elephants was bathing and having a grand old time.”
“Wrong again.”
“But, I saw them.”
“Do you see this flavored tooth cat?”
“Yes, I think so. Its so delicious that I want it, but I know taking something that isn’t yours is wrong and stuff.”
“Right you are, Duke. However, I do not believe this feline would be a suitable pet. One false move may spell disaster.”
“See, I like working with you because I am taught lots of things. You just taught me that ‘move’ spells ‘disaster’ and—if you would have told me that yesterday ago—I don’t think I would have remembered it.”
“I am always glad to help.”
“Look, Hank, a limber timber bear. I’m going to ride it.”
“Get off, you irresponsible fool, for that is a blatant show of disrespect. That short-faced bear would have gnawed you to pieces have he lived. You are vandalizing his skeletal remains and are smacking your ankles against his rib cages, as if he were a race horse. Have you no sense of decency?”
“I’m no Nancy, Hank.”
“Quiet, do you hear that?”
“Organ Sturgeon swishing through rat holes. I’ve heard that many times, but never have either.”
“It’s as though this Page-Turner Museum is coming alive.”
“Well, it’s living with us, I think. Muses always keep going. You need a shower or something, because I can smell a wildebeest something McOthers somewhere here.”
“That is not I, genius.”
“Hank, now we both know you don’t bathe yourself. The sours are busy elsewhere and we are alone looking at bony tonsil things, or something belonging to who knows what else.”
“There it is again.”
“I had beans for lunch. I knew if I told, you’d be mad—Hank, how come you didn’t tell me about your big dog?”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“The giant dog that’s looking at me. He has these really big teeth and everything.”
“That is no dog of mine, for that is a Woolly Mammoth. I will not remain here much longer. They are vengeful creatures, and you are always welcome to have your fun. So long.”
“He won’t hurt us, Hank; he’s yippy.”
“Yes he will, so either move or be removed. It is sounding its charging trumpet as we stand.”
“Just one last hello.”
“Grab my robe.”
“But, I like mine.”
“Just grab my robe.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Forget this dangerous trip.”