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Prehistoric Love Stories Are For Wusses

Primal needs, primal feeds...

By The Dani WriterPublished 2 years ago • 2 min read
Top Story - June 2024
Photo by iStock on iStock.com

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.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexel

humorFor Fun

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.

E: [email protected]

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    Written by The Dani Writer