The man leveled his weapon and aimed.

Having anticipated this at the Ka-Chunk, I threw my body against an office door. The wood frame splintered as the lock broke free from the strike plate, my body thundering into a mountain of boxes.

I scrambled for purchase against the cardboard avalanche, rushing to a nearby window.

"He went that-away." Bryan sounded delirious. The dart embedded in his chest indicated why. He flopped unconscious on the carpet.

Crocodile Dundee chambered two more rounds, racing into the room.

The office featured one itty bitty window, and it had two pieces to it. I couldn't just push it open or I'd have my top half stuck out front and my butt on the other like Winnie the Pooh. I ended up dunking a CRT monitor through the middle.

After blocking a couple tranquilizer darts with a box of payroll forms, of course.

The man cursed, apparently not accustomed to shooting creatures who can use tools.

I hopped through a hole ringed with broken glass, my thick hide picking up jagged shards as I crept out on a brown faux thatched roof.

It rained to beat the band. Lightning crashed all around me. Water pattered against my scaly flesh.

A gun muzzle poked out the window, then fell back as the owner slipped on the box avalanche.

Quickly I scurried around the cylindrical white-tan building, out of view of the broken window. The thatch proved slippery, even for my heavy clawed feet. I could only hope my pursuer would be daunted by the treacherous roofing material and abandon his chase.

The storm had popped open a casement window. Convenient. I slipped inside.

A dinosaur museum. Imagine if you stepped into a room full of human skeletons and wax figures. When I saw something that resembled me, I had to suppress a scream.

Okay, well, I understood I had to expect such a thing. Plus humans had things like Egyptian exhibits, with similar things.

Barrel vaulted ceiling, framed pictures, framed bones, and things from archaeological digs, a chunk of amber on a pedestal. Further on down lay some hotel rooms, a loaded linen cart parked against one wall. Storm water pooled around the exhibits like a small lake.

Not exactly to scale on some of the dinosaurs, especially the T-Rex. They wouldn't fit. The Compsognathus, the Dilophosaur, and a few others, though...

My tail caused a nearby skeleton to topple and shatter on the floor. I tried to pick up the bones and reassemble it, but couldn't make them stand back up. I'm sure there's a trick to it, but the same can be said for a ten thousand piece puzzle. After I'd burned up a good five to ten minutes in the attempt, I heard voices.

The sound of boots echoed through the hallway.

A desperate idea came to me, inspired by watching too many episodes of Scooby Doo.

As quick as I could, I shoved the scattered bones into a wooden crate, wincing as...something within the straw-like packing made crunching sounds.

For veracity, I stole the plaque from the `Me Skeleton', sprayed myself liberally with shellac (I'd found the aerosol inside the crate).

When the boots clomped louder, I hopped on the empty wooden stand, playing statue.

With my claws poised in mid-attack, fanged mouth frozen in a silent roar, I did bear a passable resemblance to the neighboring displays.

Crocodile Dundee's left eye twitched as he clomped past me.

He paused, sniffed the air, screwed up his face. I thought for sure he'd seen through the obvious subterfuge.

To my absolute surprise, he strode on down to the hotel area.

I waited for him to turn his back, and the moment he'd gained a fair distance, I dove back out the casement, hustling off the side of the roof, which I gauged to be a short distance from the ground.

Unfortunately, I just so happened to drop right down on a glass patio table. The large yellow-white umbrella hit a metal rail with a noisy clang, glass shattered, metal chairs banged about. The thunder only half masked the disturbance.

A familiar voice yelped and uttered a frivolous oath. "Dammit, Arnold! Why can't you go back to your cage like a normal dinosaur?"

I brushed myself off, staring through the rain at a labcoated figure hunched over a lit cigarette.

"My name is Albert...and smoking is bad for you."

Cynthia blew a raspberry. "Thanks, dinosaur mom." She took a puff. "You look...shiny."

"I'm wet."

"Let me rephrase that. Extra shiny."

"I sprayed myself with shellac."

The woman coughed, more out of laughter than the cigarette. "Why did you...?" She shook her head. "I don't even want to know!...If the rain doesn't wash it off, though, I think you're going to have some skin irritation."

I self consciously rubbed my body.

Cynthia took a long drag, gestured to the broken table. "I wonder if they got insurance for this kind of shit. How would they even explain it?"

Although showering was good, it made me cold, so I picked up the table umbrella.

Lucky for me, it had remained open, so I didn't have to fiddle with the crank.

I thought I'd be blocking rain, but at that precise moment I noticed a gun barrel poking out the casement, so I ended up imitating what I'd seen in a Batman program instead.

With darts stuck in the plastic polymer fabric, I did a Mary Poppins over a wrought iron fence, rushing across a driveway and a set of electric trolley tracks.

Since the bright yellow and white caught the eye too much, I ditched the umbrella, darting into the nearest clump of jungle foliage I could find.

Unfortunately, Geoffrey happened to be grazing nearby.

At first, he didn't notice me, contentedly munching on leaves high in the treetops.

But then he sniffed, large eyes traveling downwards.

I put a claw to my lips. "Shhh!"

Geoffrey's eyes bulged in terror. A fearful grunt came out his mouth.

"Shit! No no! Quiet you! I'm friendly. I don't want to eat you (though your legs do look rather large and juicy). Just...carry on your normal biz—"

Geoffrey let out a horrified bellow, galloping away from me.

"Bollocks!" (Hammond taught me that one).

My cover blown, I distanced myself further from the compound, rushing behind the cover of massive, prehistoric looking ferns.

There I waited.

The man with the gun crossed the field, examining my umbrella.

He knelt on the ground, examining my footprints. I wished I'd been stealthier.

The T-Rex roared again, loud as the blast of a diesel horn.

I shivered, wondering how close it had gotten. I saw nothing, though.

A `tram stop' stood a few yards away, a little prefab concrete box with a faux thatched roof and a trash can.

I would have remained in hiding, observing the hunter to see if he could find my tracks after being obscured by a Brontosaurus, but I noticed a pair of pink galoshes kicking at the edge of that little building.

Then I sneezed.

A pink hood emerged from the tram stop, turning my way.

The round, peach colored face of a child, wet strawberry hair flopping between her eyes.

She crept into view, overbite chewing her bottom lip. One plump hand clutched a big doll, the other one protectively drawing her pink raincoat closed.

I slowly edged out from behind the ferns, giving a cautious wave.

The girl dropped her doll, screaming at the top of her lungs.

She might as well have lit a neon sign to point the hunter my way.