Written by Nicholas Driscoll
Art by Sam Messerly
Read Chapter 1
Chapter 2:
I found my voice after almost a minute.
“You want to live in my garage?” I said. I knew what the tyrannosaurus had said to me. I mean, I understood what he had said perfectly. But I still had to ask the question.
“Yes,” said the tyrannosaurus. “Thank you.”
Suddenly my thoughts cleared and I could talk again.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I stammered, waving my free hand. A strange image of a tyrannosaurus driving my brand-new truck arose in my mind. “You can’t live in my garage!”
“Why not?” said the tyrannosaurus. “I have thought about my problem carefully. I have no house. You have the biggest garage in the area. You have a very big door on your garage. If I duck, I can walk inside. I am sure of it. What is the problem?”
“The problem?” I said. “There are many problems! Not just one! Many!”
“For example?” said the tyrannosaurus. And he took another piece of caramel popcorn and ate it while watching me with one eye.
“My truck and my boat are in there,” I said. “There is no room for you.”
“Easily solved,” the tyrannosaurus said. “Just take the vehicles out. Look, your neighbors have their cars on the street. You can park them there, too. This popcorn is very good.”
And the tyrannosaurus somehow took a handful of popcorn (even though he only has two fingers on each hand). Somehow he managed to get the entire handful into his mouth without dropping one piece.
“I don’t want my vehicles parked on the street!” I said. I was upset. “And I don’t have a tyrannosaurus-sized toilet. I am not lending you my toilet. I don’t do that anymore.”
“I don’t want your toilet,” said the tyrannosaurus. “I can use the yard for that. Don’t worry, I will be discreet. I am a very civil tyrannosaurus.”
The popcorn was almost gone now, and for some reason that made me even more angry.
“No, you can’t!” I said. “I won’t clean up your mess in my lawn. I would need a dump truck. And anyway, most importantly, you can’t stay in my garage for one very important reason!”
The tyrannosaurus cocked his head.
“And what is that reason?” he asked.
The tyrannosaurus finished eating my popcorn with one incredible lick that cleaned out the bowl.
“Stop that!” I said. I got tyrannosaurus saliva on my arm, and it made me very uncomfortable.
By this time, many of the locals had gathered and they were watching us with curiosity. We were starting to make a scene, and I wanted to end this conversation as soon as possible. Like most people, I don’t like talking with unexpected visitors—even when they are extinct super predators.
“You can’t stay in my garage because it is my garage,” I said. “I own it, and I make the final decision. Please go away.”
The tyrannosaurus looked surprised.
“You don’t really have a choice,” the tyrannosaurus said. “After all, this isn’t really your land.”
“Huh?” I said. “What are you talking about?”
“Well,” said the tyrannosaurus lazily. “The garage isn’t really yours. It’s mine. This land is mine, and so your house and your garage are really mine as well. I can prove it to you.”
It was at that moment that I realized this was going to be one of the worst days of my life.
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