Prehistoric Love Stories Are For Wusses
Primal needs, primal feeds...

As far as spinosaurids go
I would say
I’m pretty easy on the eyes,
though paleontologists call me, "The Irritator”
I call them on intellectual elitism, shortsightedness, and lies.
I’m actually quite charming,
got a longish snout many find alarming,
but it sure made lady spinosaurids gaze,
their salacious, obvious thoughts slow-simmered in a haze
about 'mischiefs' that no doubt could last days,
until
that is,
they all went extinct.
Man
did that ever suck
for a fit and eager dinosaur
who never plied his luck.
My Mama wanted grandkids
but I held primal urgent reasons.
She enjoyed keeping extra snacks around
while I assumed an abundance of cretaceous seasons.
No idea why
it’d come as such a shock
that my procreation game been annoyingly on lock.
And I
ain’t
going out like that, Slim.
Got me a profile
on a sah-WEET dating site
called “Hybrids and Hookups” strictly adventurous types.
Hey, they’re cards I’ve been dealt
so I'm gonna play ‘em right.
I check online often,
make sure my butt ain’t gone soft and
but by heck,
cannot see
any PC ergonomics for li’l ol’ me,
practicalities they won’t ever be,
cuz I know that ish ain’t free.
I have mastered the art
of incognito,
stay highly motivated for change.
My “survival of the fittest” instincts
are natural adaptations that rearrange
my persona to the public as
tall, dark, non-binary, non-vegan with no attachments.
I’m a homeowner (Shhh…after I ate the guy,)
my online presence aids statutory enactments.
Therefore,
in the spirit of transparency,
being 'up front'
plus always keepin’ it real,
I eat humans on a regular,
on that I would not kid you.
Didn’t think I bought the whole meat section
at the grocery store daily,
come on now, did you?
And just in case you’re guessing,
my ‘fleek’ got major ‘flex,’
serious manual dexterity Baby
cuz these arms…way longer than a stupid extinct T-Rex
I keep numerous other aliases
to ensure I won’t be tracked
Top-of-the-line security software guarantees I won’t be hacked
Still hold out hope
there may be a female dinosaur in hiding
one whose DNA I’d gladly split,
whose pleasure I’d be providing
Admit it out loud,
you like me!
See, I’m not ingratiating.
Even though they call me Irritator
it don’t mean I’m irritating.

About the Creator
The Dani Writer
Explores words to create worlds with poetry, nonfiction, and fiction. Writes content that permeates then revises and edits the heck out of it. Interests: Freelance, consultations, networking, rulebook-ripping.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.

Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.