After that incident with the carpet cleaner, my eyes instinctively nictated the moment they noticed something spraying. Plus, they'd been nictating a little on account of the rain already.

The moment the little dinosaur saw me casually shaking off her slime, she made a hasty retreat. "Sorry, `cuz! My bad!"

Cynthia, on the other claw, appeared to be in trouble, with two of them approaching.

"Shit! Dilophosaurs!" she snatched a pair of hornrimmed glasses out of the mud just seconds before she got slimed.

What happened next, well, it's going to sound a little ridiculous: The one who spat on me...fancied herself a drummer.

Grabbing a couple sticks, she hopped on Mr. Nedry's Jeep, bonking a rhythm on the hood, windows, steering wheel and other vehicular features. Honestly, it sounded pretty good, they must have been practicing awhile.

The rain and thunder let up a little bit, allowing us some fair (or at least audible) acoustics.

Her companions swayed to the sounds, rattling their neck fins, adding a rough maraca sound to the mix.

To make things even weirder, one of them held up one of those handle things from a ratchet, set, rapping into it like a microphone:

"Are you down with us clowns?

`Cuz the carnival's here!

I can spit in your eye,

And make your sight disappear!

We're getting hungry,

We just had European,

We wanna snack on Parasauralophus and Korean.

Maybe some raptor when I'm finished with you,

Let's start with the apps and see how we do."

Like I said, the storm appeared to be in a slight lull. Although we still received a good shower, we could hear all that. I can't explain how they spoke English, though.

"Great. Projectile spitting rappers," Cynthia groaned. "That's just what we need."

The Dilophosaurs approached her, rattling their fins.

As per tradition in this type of scenario, I swiped the drive ratchet from her, adding a rap of my own: "Hold back your attack, my friend's not a snack, she's a valued player in my raptor pack!"

The Dilophosaur jumped up and stole the `mic.'

"We were cloned in a lab,

You might call me your sister.

But the chick you're with;

Don't say that I missed her.

She looks so unscaly,

Her skin soft and porous,

I've seen her around,

She ain't even a `saurus."

Cynthia, pressing her slime coated glasses to her nose, blindly held out a hand. "Gimme that ratchet!"

The Dilophosaur humored her request.

With one hand on her glasses, she held the metal thing to her mouth:

"You guys are so cute!

I love that you rap!

I'd love to hang out,

Could you stop spitting that crap?

I get that I'm chunky,

There are others much thinner,

But that doesn't mean you can serve me for dinner!

I think you got talent,

I'll stay for your show,

But once it's all over,

Can you please let us go?"

The dino's answer: "No!"

"You guys are great,

I ain't even complaining.

But I'd rather not chill out here where it's raining!

If you don't mind,

Let me get to my Jeep,

So I can drive to my house and get me some sleep!"

Back to the Dilophosaur, who clicked that little latch thingy on the back of the drive ratchet like an `on' switch:

"It's been a long time since we've had a good munch.

After the big guy, we've only had birdies for lunch,

A ground squirrel or two, and once a koala,

But now here's this human: Holler!"

"A koala?" Cynthia repeated. "Where the hell did you get a koala from? Is that just a figure of speech?"

The Dilophosaur crossed her arms, scowling at the breach of style.

I stepped in between them, bustin' a flow:

"Listen, fragile finheads,

I got something to say!

If you eat this woman,

It will ruin your day!

This woman you see,

She isn't that tasty:

Her hair is all stringy,

And her skin is pasty.

If you give her a nibble,

You're going to be sick!

I'd disabuse myself of the notion — and quick!"

Cynthia snorted, whispering, "Nerd!"

The Dilophosaur took the mic:

"From sundown to sunup,

I spread my frills and keep my front up.

At 2 AM, I spit on things.

At 3 AM, I spit on things.

At 4 AM, I bust my flow and make a rap that really sings."

"Sounds like they need a hobby," Cynthia whispered.

"And sleep," I muttered.

Our rap enemy pointed to the two fins on her head:

"These ridges look fragile,

But they're really not.

My ridges, my ridges, are totally hot!"

I grinned and jumped in:

"So far I agree,

In fact, they're kinda sexy.

But your eating of humans,

I find that quite vexing.

I—"

Chomp chomp chomp. Thanks to Zelda, I no longer had a rap battle opponent.

"Don't call any other dinosaur sexy," she growled with a gory mouth.

I swallowed hard. "Yes ma'am."

Noting the lack of percussion, I glanced back at the Jeep and found Buttface devouring the drummer. The remaining Dilophosaur fled into the jungle.

I stared my girlfriend as she continued chomping. "Honey, are you pregnant? You've eaten an awful lot of dinosaurs lately."

She gave me a dirty look, like she intended to kill and eat me next. "Are you saying I'm fat?"

I shook my head violently. "I'm just saying you seem...awfully hungry. Was there...another raptor?"

"Just you, Weirdo."

Cynthia pulled off her sticky hornrims. "Thank God! I didn't know if we were finished, or about to become animated and dance around with cartoon bears."

"Yeah...And I'd be forever known as a Veloci-Rapper."

"Ugh!" she threw the hornrims at me.

Thunder crashed. The rain, once a bit subdued, once again poured down in buckets. We rushed back to the Jeep.

Cynthia started it up, played with the clutch. "Check that map again, will `ya?"

I unfolded the soggy thing. We'd left the dome light on all this time, but thankfully it hadn't been long enough to kill the battery. "Well, we're obviously at the Dilophosaur exhibit..."

"How close is that to the dock?"

"We're way off. The docks are way on the other end of the road."

"Makes sense..." She frowned, pulling into reverse. Grind grind grind. "The guy obviously messed with the sign."

Cynthia turned the Jeep around and (grind grind grind) drove straight up the road we'd come from, with all those flying palm branches.

Oh, um, remember how I mentioned the Triceratops being absent from the road earlier?

Well, although it's true they had one being treated for tummy problems, we found another blocking our path with her big fat butt.

Nothing exciting here. Since no one currently pursued us, Cynthia drove a bit slower, on account of the rain, so no dramatic crash or anything...Just unable to proceed on account of...Miss McGillicuddy.

Not sick or anything, just acting like a stubborn cow, I guess waiting for the storm to let up.

Cynthia honked her horn.

A lot.

Miss McGillicuddy only bellowed and lay there like a bump.

We got out, poked her, prodded her, shoved her, bit her in the butt, but she kept sitting there.

I attempted conversation with the enormous female. "Excuse me, ma'am, would you mind moving out of the road, please?"

Her response: "No...it is..." And a whole minute later: "Raining."

"I'm aware of that ma'am. Isn't there some other place you'd like to be, like, out of the rain?"

One full minute delay. "...No."

"We'd like to get past you. Would you mind ever so much, just moving a teensy bit to the side of the road?"

"I...am...(one minute pause)...tired."

Frustrated, and annoyed at getting wet, we climbed back into the Jeep.

Zelda asked if she could kill and eat Miss McGillicuddy, but I said no, that's just mean.

"Honey, Miss McGillicuddy didn't do anything to you. Plus you've eaten enough for two raptors already."

"You seem to be implying that I'm fat."

"Did I also imply that you'd be sexy no matter how big you got?"

She blushed a little at this.

"Anyway, if you killed her, we'd have to find a way to drive around her massive carcass, and that would be really inconvenient."

"Not necessarily. Why can't we just walk?"

"Because Cynthia is with us, and she likes to have the comfort of this rain shielded box on wheels. I'm actually partial to it myself."

Zelda smiled. "I enjoyed your dancing. Very much. Especially with the tail shaking. Please do it again."

I swallowed. "Really? Sure! Once we get past this road block and at our destination, I'd love to!"

She gave me this look like I should be able to demonstrate right there, but said nothing more about it. "Don't you gorge yourself to prepare yourself for a time when there's no food?"

"Mister Hammond said if I ate too much I might throw up."

"Hammond is an old weenie."

Rain pounded down on the metal and plastic hard top. "Glad I'm not out in that!"

Cynthia glanced at me in annoyance, frowned at the steering wheel. She whistled a few bars of a (ahem) popular John Williams tune.

The Jeep smelled like tobacco. Cynthia said it reminded her of her grandpa's car. Being in the tropics, the temperature didn't drop that much, even around dusk, so I didn't mess with the heater. We had picturesque scenery to look at out the windows, lots of weird leafy plants cloned from the Cretaceous era, regular jungle palms and such, and in the distance, a lovely view of the mountains. "I wish I had a camera."

"That would be nice, but I wasn't allowed to bring any photo or recording equipment, on account of our non-disclosure agreements. For the last few weeks, the most I've been able to send were pictures of us staff standing around in all the places that look like a regular amusement park, like it's Universal Studios or something." She absently tapped her fingers along the steering wheel. "Pasty and stringy, eh?"

I chuckled. "Just poetic license, so they wouldn't eat you. You're actually very nice looking for a human."

Cynthia smirked.

I turned on the radio. Nothing but static.

She stared. "Seriously? What did you expect? I don't even know why they have one in here."

"You can actually tune in the PA system on the AM dial pretty good..." I turned it to AM 1030.

A little faint and staticcy from the storm, but Ministerio Montaña Del Fuego still came in well enough for me to hear them play How Great Thou Art in Spanish.

"That's a crappy signal."

"It's something to do, okay? We're lucky to get it at all!"

"You remind me of this friend I had. His folks didn't let him watch TV when he was a kid, so when he'd get in front of a TV he'd shush us, even when a commercial came on."

"Shhh! I love this song!"

Groaning, she humored me until the song ended. "So. You're a dinosaur. And you don't believe in evolution."

"No."

"You were made in a lab. Wouldn't that make Hammond and the scientists your god?"

"No. They didn't make the parts I was cloned from. A greater God made all that."

"Okay, so how do you account for the similarities of the different animals?"

"The same guy made everything, so naturally it all looks the same."

"Hmmm. You really think that the Model T is superior to the modern car?"

"I've heard there's no complicated electrical system to make the engine stall."

"Does that metaphorically mean you're better than me? Or is the Mustang better?"

"Neither one is better. They're just different, and appropriate for the era they were in."

"The Mustang is a cooler car."

"Maybe not to your grandfather."

"You're surprisingly deep for a dinosaur."

"Thank you."

Okay, so the scenery may be beautiful, but you can get tired of anything after awhile, and...not exactly entertaining to watch a Triceratops lay on the ground and breathe for twenty minutes. I found an ugly fedora with a pheasant feather stuck in it. I put it on my head, posing for Cynthia.

She rolled her eyes at me, tried not to laugh, but a giggle escaped her nose. "Albert, there's been something I've been wondering about...You're cold blooded, right? The rain's a little cold, but you're not moving around like a zombie or trying to sun yourself all the time."

"I'm not cold blooded. There's actually some research papers that indicate dinosaurs are warmbloods." I breathed on my window and drew a happy face for her.

"Okay, so, all the dinosaurs at this park are supposed to be female...I know when we were partying you told me you were male, but I don't see any male genitalia."

"If you think I'm female, why do you make me turn around when you change?"

"I make Zelda turn around too. I like my privacy, okay? I don't get naked in front of other women, or even pets. It makes me uncomfortable. I mean, pets have eyes...Where's your male genitalia?"

"You work here, and you don't know that dinosaurs have a cloaca?"

"What's a cloaca?"

"Gee! Who hired you, and what for?"

Her face flushed red. "It's an internship, all right? I don't know everything. I was supposed to be mentored in as a tour guide, hospitality agent, or hotel crew."

"A cloaca is a thing we use to make babies. Our private parts are inside our bodies, like birds. It actually makes self defense a little challenging because you gotta kick very carefully to make it hurt."

"And you just...magically started growing a schlong?"

"Ummm...Actually, I've always had these unexplained...special feelings down there, but everyone said I was a girl."

Cynthia furrowed her brow. "I...wonder how many other dinosaurs have this problem."

"Who said it's a problem?"

We must have sat there in the rain for an hour, waiting for McGillicuddy to move. Luckily the alternator kept the battery alive for us.

At last the Triceratops groaned and got up, meandering off into the foliage.

Still in the rain, I might add. I don't know, I guess she had to relieve herself or something and wanted to do it privately. We rolled on down the road.

"Do you think I'm sexy?" Cynthia blurted.

"Ummm...If I answer that question, you'll either have unresolved inferiority issues or my girlfriend will kill you."

"Is that a yes? That sounds like a yes."

"I'm sorry, I can't answer that question."

The rain let up. Not completely, but enough to at least give us a good view of the road while it poured down. We rolled by immense electrified cages, then, as signs for the Brachiosaurus exhibit appeared, the cages got replaced by grassland.

"Cynthia, do you ever watch the Ninja Turtles?"

"I try to avoid it."

"Okay, so, they're four semi-adult turtles, and there's no female turtles around. It's kinda implied that April O'Neal is the girlfriend of at least one of them, or maybe Master Splinter, I'm not sure. Master Splinter is a rat, by the way."

"I've heard," Cynthia groaned. "What's your point?"

"They must be very lonely. I mean, created by mutagen, no girl turtles, what's in the future for them? Do they all just find various humans and somehow form relationships? Also, are they even able to procreate, or did the mutagen render them all impotent? That would be tragic. And what about Master Splinter? He used to be a guy. Did he have a girlfriend before he turned into a rat? If so, where is she?"

"Albert, I don't know the answers to those questions." Clearly, she didn't even want to think about them. "You know how I said you're surprisingly deep for a dinosaur? Never mind."

"So you're not going to answer my question?"

She rolled her eyes. "Albert, is this really about the Ninja Turtles, or you being lonely? Because you got a girlfriend in the back seat."

"Well...I guess I had been thinking those thoughts before I met Zelda..." I leaned over the seat and grinned at her.

Zelda gave me this look that said `What? Do I have something in my teeth?'

I gave her an `I love you' chirp.

We didn't see any Brachiosauruses (Or is it `Brachiosaurs?' `Brachiosaurus?'). I guess they'd decided to stand under trees until the rain stopped or something.

"Wait, I thought Master Splinter was just a rat that got transformed."

"No, no. He was Hamato Yoshi. A Japanese guy."

"You sure that wasn't the name of the guy that owned the rat?"

"Positive...I thought you didn't know anything about TMNT."

"Sometimes my brother would get high and watch it."

"Yeah? On the cartoon, Hamato is a guy that gets transformed. Where'd you get that other story from?"

"I saw the movie."

My jaw absolutely dropped. "There's a movie?"

Cynthia rubbed her face. "Yeah. Saw it with my brother. `Pizza dude's got ten minutes.'"

"Wow. I've got to see that sometime."

We began to see herds of large platypus-like dinosaurs. I pressed my face to the glass in excitement. "Look, Webby! Friends!"

I quickly picked the baby up, holding her to the window so she could see.

I did not expect her to wail.

Loudly.

In Parasauralophus, I believe she'd just exclaimed, "Help, herd mates! I've been kidnapped by Velociraptors!"

The thundering herd animals all froze, their finned heads slowly turning to face our vehicle. When one lumbered in front of us, Cynthia slammed on the brakes.

They snorted.

Puffed out air.

Gave us looks like bulls about to stampede.

Cynthia tensed up, bracing herself for the inevitable. "Albert, you idiot."

Herbivores can be scary, as anyone running from bulls in Pamplona can attest. The moment the large duck billed creatures fully registered Webby's distress call, they charged, ramming their thick skulls into the fender and sides of the vehicle.

The Jeep rocked back and forth like one of those fraternity gags I've seen on TV, threatening to tip over. They targeted the side containing Webby, of course.

Webby whimpered something to the effect of "Sorry, guys, there's been a misunderstanding. I wasn't really kidnapped, I just wanted them to stop the Jeep so I could come out and say hi, because I'm a spoiled little brat." (Okay, so maybe I got a few of the accents wrong, but I believe, if I understand Parasauralophus correctly, that was the general gist of the communication).

The (Parasauralophii?), of course, would have none of it. Their leader, a tortoiseshell patterned creature, argued that Webby did not belong with us, that she should be out with the herd, in the rain, enjoying a good stampede and getting scared of lightning.

(Weird birthmark on that girl, by the way, like Ace Frehley's makeup from KISS).

Webby told her she didn't like rain that much, she'd rather sit in the Jeep with her human and Raptor friends, but `Space Ace' said Webby would get eaten, and commenced attacking the Jeep's door.

"Albert!" Cynthia shouted. "Unless you want to walk the rest of the way, I suggest you do something!"

"Me? What do you want me to do?"

"I dunno, think of something!"

I sighed. "Okay...I...think it's about time for Webby to have a little play date..."

I reached into the back seat, but Zelda shouted, "Don't you dare take my baby!"

"Wow! I did not expect that!" Never before did I have someone that really got me like she did. I swallowed a lump, ready to cry. "I know, baby. I love her too. But these big creatures are going to trample us if we don't at lest let her out and play with them."

"You let Edmund and Percy `play' with Clouseau and Felicity, and we just left them there."

"I know," I whimpered. "But they're not gone forever, they're just babysitting! We still can go back and visit them."

Cynthia flinched as Space Ace banged on the Jeep again. "Albert, could you hurry it up?"

Zelda let out a heavy sigh, like she intended to weep.

"Honey, these guys mean business. Can we at least..."

A tear trickled down her face.

I gulped, backing off. "Honey, how about you take Webby out to meet our new friends? That way you can supervise and make sure she doesn't get carried off..."

She gave me a loving lick to the face. "You are so clever!"

Already I doubted the soundness of the idea. "I...try."

Zelda jiggled the door handle, clawing at it in ineffective attempts to get it open.

"Here, sweetie." I demonstrated how to pop it open.

Cradling the infant, she crept out on the pavement. Buttface jumped out at the same time, practically smashing Zelda's face into the ground in her eagerness to run around and play...And urinate.

I got out shortly after, giving Space Ace a friendly smile and a wave.

What happened next was a blur. I remember flying up into the air, the visual effect similar to the world's most powerful football player hurling a video camera through the air. I saw stars and felt shooting pain as I crash landed on the ground.

Lots of rumbling. I got stomped a few times.

Crash! Bang! Down the Jeep went on its side, Cynthia screaming all the way.

When, groaning, I rose to my feet, amid a huge spray of mud and dirt, the herd had gone, and taken Webby with them. Zelda sobbed on my shoulder.

Once she finished crying, she growled, "I want you to give me a baby."

I blushed. "You mean make one of our own?"

The naughty look on her face said yes.

"The thought has never been far from my mind..."

She looked like she wanted it right now.

"Could you...wait awhile? `Till we get to the place, at least?"

Zelda sighed. "Fine. But don't keep me waiting."

I gulped and nodded.

She glanced back at the overturned Jeep. "Is she all right?"

I frowned. Although Cynthia had screamed earlier, it seemed like a roller coaster type scream, not like "Help, I'm going to die." And I hadn't heard a peep after.

Worried that she might actually be dead, I rushed to the cracked windshield, and found, to my relief, that she had kept her seatbelt on.

I climbed to the passenger door (which had now become the roof), and with some effort, pried it open.

Cynthia unbuckled herself, hit the driver's side door with a bang. "Ow! Son of a—"

She groaned, got to a standing position...Not quite tall enough to reach the opposite door. "A little help?"

A little heavier than expected, but I managed to get her out.

We had a long hike ahead of us. Cynthia kept stopping to catch her breath, rest...and complain about sitting in the rain.

Zelda still felt emotional about us losing our last baby. I rubbed her back. "Honey, this will be good for her. She'll be with others of her kind. They'll teach her to be a good veggiesaurus."

She gave me a reluctant nod. "It's still not easy."

Zelda cast an annoyed glance over her shoulder. Cynthia again lagged behind us.

Amidst all the complaining, the woman patted her pockets. "Oh damn! I left the keys in the Jeep! Go back and get them, will `ya?"

We'd forgotten them in all the excitement. Oh well.

More than a mile back, but when Cynthia got winded, she wasn't much better than Ms. McGillicuddy, so it gave me something more interesting to do than wait for her to finish resting. I had to tear up the Jeep's seats to get out again, and fight the door when it shut on me, but Cynthia had only moved a few yards from her last spot when I returned.

The more we delayed, the less Zelda could keep her claws off me. Don't get me wrong, I wanted her too, but I wanted it to be right. It took some effort (and willpower) but I did manage to convince her to keep waiting, and the meantime we could hold claws like humans and talk about how things might be like for us to have a family and stuff.

Buttface, well...she found dead things to roll in and/or eat, and/or dig up. A few times she wandered off, but still stalked us from a distance.

A lot of grumpy complaining from Cynthia: Blaming people, and dinosaurs (ahem) for this and that, so...really glad when we passed the road to the boat dock and that weird Buckminster Fuller house at last came into view.

Interesting architecture on that condo. Kind of an A-Frame thing going on in the front, but then you had this Epcot Center looking hemisphere right behind it, plus a couple nods to Frank Lloyd Wright, rock walls and a fake waterfall.

It had a wooden patio resembling a charcuterie serving board, and a pond filled with koi. I glimpsed a swimming pool and Jacuzzi set in back, smelled a whiff of chlorine. No visible golf course, by the way.

No anti-dinosaur fences or anything. In fact, it looked like Hammond had planted a bunch of stuff close to the house to coerce (Parasauralophuses?) to graze there. `Our creator' wanted to be among us. I imagine some days he'd sit at that little table under the patio umbrella, and when Space Ace got close, he'd scurry over and pet her.

I bet he used to pet Rexy when she was small.

Sigh. I miss his petting.

Zelda took all of the scenery in and purred, rubbing against my neck. "This is a perfect nest! I love it! I understand why you wanted me to wait. This is a lovely place to lay my eggs."

Heat rushed to my face. "Eggs? As in plural?"

She nodded.

"Oh...kay!"

"At last! We're here!" Cynthia dug in her pockets for the keys.

Hammond clearly spared no expense on himself. Thousand dollar electric guitar, an acoustic for probably a similar amount, a drum set, a while library of fancy hardcover books, and enough VHS tapes to populate a video store. Espresso machine, smoothie maker, fully stocked bar with a frozen margarita and daiquiri machine, large screen TV with VCR and Betamax machine, something called a Laser Disk Player and DVD, a fax machine with a disorganized scattering of faxes beside it, a moose head on a plaque, a giant stuffed Kodiak bear, mouth frozen in mid-roar. Pinball machines, Ms. Pac-Man, Galaga, Tron, and other things. A bag of golf clubs, and some kind of screen where you pretended to line drive...And a Nintendo!

"Wow!" I breathed. "This is like Santa's workshop!"

A stereo played Steely Dan's Don't Take Me Alive. It seemed someone had put a record on.

Clack! The distinct sound of a cue hitting a billiard ball.

Off in the corner, beneath a dinosaur patterned Tiffany lamp, a brown man with glasses popped a cue stick against a ball. He puffed a cigarette, sized up his next shot.

He `scratched' the moment he noticed me walking in. Sweat darkened his stripy white shirt.

Using the Lord's name in vain, he ducked behind the pool table. "What the (fudge) is that thing doing in here!"