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“Let me get this
straight,” Ellen Bellevue said condescendingly to the young man trembling
before her desk. “You think prehistoric monsters are eating conservatives.”
Stumpy Wilkerson
nodded enthusiastically. He’d been trying to piece the story together for the
last five years. He’d filed thirteen extensions, but his dissertation had
finally come due. It was now his job to defend it.
“That’s right
Professor Bellevue. My data shows conclusively that the ghosts of dinosaurs are
very real and they are extremely angry about the way their remains are being
used to wreck the environment.”
Professor Bellevue
lowered her head into her hands. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It
was stuff like this that gave The Department of Astrological Studies a bad
name.
“Not only that,”
Stumpy continued, “But judging by the alignment of Venus, I’m quite certain
that one of the victims--had he not been incinerated by a dinosaur’s fart--had
a Monkey Man Monster waiting outside his house to bash the shit out of him.”
“A Monkey Man
Monster?” Bellevue asked, shaking her head. “Is that like Bigfoot?”
“No. The Monkey
Man Monster has surprisingly small feet. They’re quite dainty.”
“This is
ridiculous.”
“They’re real,
Professor. And what’s more, they are very dangerous. Not the feet, though. Just
the monster.”
“And is the Monkey
Man Monster also eating republicans?”
“Inconclusive. The
Monkey Man Monster, or TMMM for short, has only recently been discovered, but
apparently he's been around for millions of years, maybe more.”
“And what
evolutionary purpose does TMMM serve?”
"You mean The
Monkey Man Monster? I thought I already explained that. It bashes the shit out
of people who don’t believe in evolution.”
Professor Bellevue
rolled her eyes. “Well, you might as well know, I don’t believe in evolution
either.”
Stumpy’s eyes
widened. “Don’t say that, Professor. You don’t understand the
implications.”
“Oh I understand
perfectly. Twerpy little liberals like yourself like to waste your time making
fun of people just because they believe something different from you. You think
you’re so darned smart. Well, let’s see how smart you feel while you’re
rewriting your dissertation.”
“You don’t
understand, Professor Bellevue. I don’t care about my doctorate. I care about your
life. You can’t go around saying there are no such things as Dinosaur Ghosts or
Monkey Men Monsters. They are very real and they have ways of making you
believe.”
Professor Bellevue
shook with anger. “I don’t believe in Dinosaur Ghosts and there
is no such thing as Monkey Men Monsters!”
"You mean
TMMMs?"
But it was too
late. The words were barely out of the professor's mouth when the room began to tremble. A split opened up in the drywall behind her. Large chunks of wall
fell away in a cloud of plaster dust. Through the newly created opening emerged
a hideous figure. He was ten feet tall with giant walrus-like teeth jutting out
of its lower jaw. He had fists like giant sledge hammers. With one swipe he crushed the professor's desk, sending the loose papers of Stumpy’s thesis into the air. Professor Bellevue leaped
out of the path of flying splinters.
“Who say there no
such thing as Monkey Man Monster?” The Monkey Man Monster asked
ungrammatically.
Stumpy pointed at
Bellevue. “She did,” he said. “She also doesn’t believe in Dinosaur Ghosts.”
At that moment, another wall fell away and in walked the ghosts of aTyrannosaurus Rex and a Stegosaurus. They angled toward their prey.
The Monkey Man
Monster smashed the floor as a warning to the approaching predators. The ripple
effect on the tile caused the dinosaurs to stumble. “This Monkey Man’s
fight," barked The Monkey Man Monster, or TMMM for short, "You two
stay out of it.”
The dinosaur
ghosts hissed and roared. Their message was clear. There were two of them and
only one Monkey Man Monster (TMMM).
The Stegosaurus
began to swing its tail like a medieval knight warming up his mace. While The
Monkey Man Monster was preoccupied with those spikes, the Tyrannosaurus Rex
ghost rushed forward. It could have gotten ugly then, but The Monkey Man
Monster had certain evolutionary advantages. He was nimble and possessed opposable thumbs. He caught the swinging tail of the Stegosaurus just as the teeth
of the Tyrannosaur snapped the air beside his neck. He grabbed the terrible
lizard by the back of the head, pulling its neck into the jagged swords of the Stegosaur’s
tail. As reptilian ghost blood flooded the room, The Monkey Man Monster leaped
onto the back of the Stegosaurus and dispatched it with several punches to its
peanut-sized brain.
The Monkey Man
Monster panted heavily as he searched the room for his next victim. To his
great shock and anger, and yes even a little disappointment, he found that the
humans had fled the room. “Domino Pizza,” he cursed as he kicked an abandoned
briefcase across the room.
He heard a low
growl behind him. He spun around to find himself facing, once again, a pair of
dinosaurs. Each let out a tremendous roar. Again the message was clear. “You
can’t kill us. We’re already dead. Oh, and we find your disproportionately tiny
feet comical.” At that, the prehistoric specters disappeared, leaving The
Monkey Man Monster alone in the office of a university department head. There
was only one thing left to do—look and see what there was to eat in the mini
fridge.
"Ooh," he said as he pushed aside a can of soda, "leftover Chinese food."
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