Midway through an interminable lecture on the Anglo-Saxon literary tradition, heavy on wergild and ennui, Alexei was somewhat surprised to realize that his phone was ringing.
Not vibrating, as would indicate an alarm, nor gently chirping as would indicate a (rare) text message, nor even the distinct vibration that would indicate a message from a ‘lady caller’ via one or the other of his numerous discreditable apps. It was ringing: a horrible but euphonious sound, unchanged from factory default.
He stood and shuffled his way sidewise out of the back row, ass politely displayed to his back-of-the-room companions. Old (possibly Olde) professor Yarmstein was not likely to forgive this, despite his best smile, the one he mentally filed under Rom Com special; at age 65, balding, and heterosexual, he was not precisely the intended target.
“There’s a fucking wormhole in Central Park.”
The vaunted Kravinoff cunning took a moment to parse this statement and recognize the voice- husky, vague, always on the verge of laughter at undignified volume.
“Dee? Why did you call me? You have my number, you could have…you know what, never mind. There’s what now?”
“A wormhole. In the park. It’s big and sort of…purple? And a dinosaur came out. You need to hunt this dinosaur, hunter dude.”
Alexei felt a sharp pain, realized it was the pressure of his own teeth on his lower lip.
“I’m choosing to believe you aren’t insane.”
A brief pause while he considered the wisdom of this course.
“…I don’t do animal hunting stuff. Way too Cecil Rhodes and shit, you know? I am not going to turn into the guy who has like a stuffed elephant butthole and five tiger dicks on his wall.”
The resulting snort would have done justice to a basking hippo.
“What you do with your personal life is your business. The dinosaur has a- FUCK- hang on, fuck, okay. He has a gun, though. He’s shooting at things.”
Alexei gave this due consideration.
“Are you saying this is some sort of dinosaur criminal? A crimeasaur? Dino-delinquent? Paleolithic Palooka?”
Dee’s heavy sigh was backgrounded with the firecracker pop of automatic weaponry.
“Please save your witty shitty for those who give fucks and come hunt this dinosaur, dumpass.”
“Coming bringing screamers and the spear don’t get shot.”
“What are you going to do with the fucking spear, don’t bring the spear, fucking-“
“I’m bringing it, shut up.”
Not vibrating, as would indicate an alarm, nor gently chirping as would indicate a (rare) text message, nor even the distinct vibration that would indicate a message from a ‘lady caller’ via one or the other of his numerous discreditable apps. It was ringing: a horrible but euphonious sound, unchanged from factory default.
He stood and shuffled his way sidewise out of the back row, ass politely displayed to his back-of-the-room companions. Old (possibly Olde) professor Yarmstein was not likely to forgive this, despite his best smile, the one he mentally filed under Rom Com special; at age 65, balding, and heterosexual, he was not precisely the intended target.
“There’s a fucking wormhole in Central Park.”
The vaunted Kravinoff cunning took a moment to parse this statement and recognize the voice- husky, vague, always on the verge of laughter at undignified volume.
“Dee? Why did you call me? You have my number, you could have…you know what, never mind. There’s what now?”
“A wormhole. In the park. It’s big and sort of…purple? And a dinosaur came out. You need to hunt this dinosaur, hunter dude.”
Alexei felt a sharp pain, realized it was the pressure of his own teeth on his lower lip.
“I’m choosing to believe you aren’t insane.”
A brief pause while he considered the wisdom of this course.
“…I don’t do animal hunting stuff. Way too Cecil Rhodes and shit, you know? I am not going to turn into the guy who has like a stuffed elephant butthole and five tiger dicks on his wall.”
The resulting snort would have done justice to a basking hippo.
“What you do with your personal life is your business. The dinosaur has a- FUCK- hang on, fuck, okay. He has a gun, though. He’s shooting at things.”
Alexei gave this due consideration.
“Are you saying this is some sort of dinosaur criminal? A crimeasaur? Dino-delinquent? Paleolithic Palooka?”
Dee’s heavy sigh was backgrounded with the firecracker pop of automatic weaponry.
“Please save your witty shitty for those who give fucks and come hunt this dinosaur, dumpass.”
“Coming bringing screamers and the spear don’t get shot.”
“What are you going to do with the fucking spear, don’t bring the spear, fucking-“
“I’m bringing it, shut up.”
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