Dino Dad: My Boy and I Live Inside A Dinosaur

Jucksnick Rumcum's personal "Dino Journal"
Day 645 of being a "Dino Dad"

I woke up this morning with a severe back ache from accidentally slipping down the dinosaur's colon during a period of deep sleep. Luckily, I was able to reach around in there and find a few bones to pull on to get myself back up into the stomach area. Once I pulled myself into the safety of the inner largecavern I found my boy, Nidpip Helvin Rumcum, resting on a pile of human and animal skulls in a pool of stomach acid. I was so happy to see that little butterscotch bumper that I let out a little honk of glory and gave him a snugger.

I'm not going to lie. It's been really tough living inside a dinosaur with my young son. Ever since my wife left us, it's been a butt hammer. I lost my job as a toothpaste salesman and my wife shot out the door like a greased weasel in a tailpipe. I never pictured myself as a Dino Dad but now I guess that's what I've got jam into my noggin. What gives me the hankers is that my boy and I are living hard. We don't get enough to eat in this darn bone and muscle house. And we aren't able to wash our clothes well enough. Those are pretty much our main complaints...except that Dominoes stopped delivering to us after our Jurassic scalehouse ate one of the delivery men and it got blood all over our pizza order.

It's hard to believe it's already been 645 days living in this old Thunder Lizard House. The real estate man said that ever since the economy started getting bad, it's been pretty common for dads like me to move into scientifically-resurrected dinosaurs with their boy sons. I did what any desperate single dad would do and bought a modestly sized landfill property and a large Tyrannosaur to eat us and allow us to live in him.

I think for dinner tonight I'm going to make some gravy from one of the dead deer bodies we have in here. From there, I'll probably bake some bread in the large intestine (downstairs) with some seeds and old smellweed we found.

Maybe tomorrow we can take our house on a trip the park to watch the money people do normal things. With some luck, maybe we can make some money by letting people take our photographs and laugh at us. I will spend it on pizza delivery. But this time, I will have the delivery man throw it in our housemouth, not try to crawl in to give us the receipt.

Terri Lost Everything

CINCINNATI MENTAL FORTITUTDE EXAMINER
A Cincinnati publication that focuses specifically on the mental fortitude of rabbits
Issue 274

As the mist slowly crept back over the jagged and unforgiving black mountains of eternity, a local mechanic and jackrabbit named Terri Gringer, Jr. was swept into the unyielding gaze of doom, rendering his mind and body totally atrophied under its endless crushing weight.

We spoke to Bunky JamJam (one of Terri's closest friends and co-workers) about what happened and what he saw:

"I work with Terri and he is a great guy. Probably one of the most chill dudes I know. I really just saw a change in him today. He was flippin' a wrench on my bro Flingus' old Mazda Miata. He is so sick when it comes to replacing struts, it's insane. Anyway, yeah, out of the corner of my eye I saw Terry jerk a little bit and drop his wrench. He just got super tense and his eyes just started, like, bulging out of his head. I just don't know what's up with him, we were supposed to go out to Jake's Beer Drinking Place tonight to drink beers out of beer cups but now...I just don't know..."

***

One can never attempt to fully understand the complexities of the mind. Ever since Terri's story got out, countless specialists have speculated as to what could have turned one of Cincinnati's most legendary wrench turners into a complete catatonic. 

It has now been six long years since that horrible mind disaster and Terri is still mentally and muscularly-locked and as tense as a bridge wire on a windy day. His wife (Nanner Widget-Gringer) promptly left him mere moments after his medical emergency. She stated that she wanted to be with a "real man." 

Nanner explained that the "last time I saw Terri was the day when he went stiff. I saw saw him cling to Bill's shirt in pure terror that day and I thought to myself 'I can't be with a guy with problems.' In fact, I knew then that need a lot more money to feel like I'm really happy in life so I divorced Terri by mail that same night and married a few men that I met at Jake's Beer Drinking Place. They bought me beers inside beer cups. We went to a hotel later. I love them."

With all these events occurring, we could't help but feel for Terri in his profoundly grim situation. We went to visit Terri at the International Center for Existential Dread and he was in a very similar state to when he was first afflicted. His eyes had a deep glaze and nearly every muscle group in his body was still clenched as tight as ever. 

Bunky, his old pal from the auto mechanic shop, was visiting with him bedside. Still in his mechanic garb and blue work shirt, Bunky hunched over Terri's twisted frame and spoke sweetly and softly into Terri's ear. It was then that we noticed he was reading passages. As we discovered, he makes a special visit to Terri's room every night to read from his favorite books.

BUNKY'S BOOKS:

"My Faith in the Sword" by Jones Boss

"How They're Made: Tater Tots" by Pibby Rugg and Boon Nip-Nodbod

"Widget's Naughty Place" by Yip Schooner