So call me a dinosaur. I see my future, and it ends with extinction. I see that meteor in the sky, and know we’re not having fireworks in March.
The future sells some sorry scenarios of life before death. Slurping prunes while music I can no longer remember is piped through the room. Talking to the ghosts of all the people I’ve forgotten every night after the lights go out.
But, I’m close enough to extinction to realize I don’t have enough time to repeat any stupid mistakes or make any more horrible decisions. Soon enough, all decisions will be taken out of my shaking, arthritic hands.
And life could be worse. I could be
a Tyrannosaurus Rex, with arms too short
to reach that second helping of ice cream.
published in Doctor Funny
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