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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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