What are we supposed to do with this dinosaur?
One of the rules of interdimensional travel is that if Jesus tells you to take a dinosaur, you take the dinosaur.
You have a lot of rules.
That dinosaur is just a baby. He's probably hungry.
I don't like the way he is looking at me.
He probably thinks your his mother. Maybe you should nurse him.
You are disgusting. ... I feel feint.
The lovely Mrs. Egram has a point. The creature is probably famished. Does anyone have any food?
I have some granola bars, some dried fruit, some nuts ...
Talk about disgusting! Bramwell asked for food. It's a dinosaur not a rabbit!
Well, what sort of food do you have, Truman?
Well, let me see. Um, some Jack Daniels, a tin of beluga ... some Demoral.
I got me some french fried potaters and some potted meat. Hmm.
I have a package of orange-dyed crackers and heavily processed peanut butter. Also some Turkish taffy. ... Did you say Demerol?
Oh yes. And not the generic stuff either.
Might you be interested in trading for some Vicodin?
Even up? Throw in an Oxycodone and it's a deal.
Perhaps if you were to include an Ambien. ...
Generic OK?
Done!
Pardon me for interrupting your interdimensional drug deal, but the dinosaur. ... Bramwell, do you have any food?
Of course. I have some pemmican, some Tang and some suet.
Suet? My God, what for? Another one of your rules?
Mmm. It probably for that crow he hidin' in his backpack. Hmmm.
Caw!
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