"What does it take to kill it?" a female voice pleaded in exasperation amidst a torrent of audible gunfire.
There was a slight pause, then a deep-voiced male remarked wistfully, "They don't die. They never die. No matter what you do to them, they just keep getting back up. In the future, they'll finish off the last of us and spread their heartless natures until the planet dies off, and it'll be all our fault." The male sobbed quietly. "We let it happen. We let them take over the world."
"Gimme your grenade," the female shot back.
The sounds of a struggle were followed by the sound of the pin being yanked from a grenade. The female voice was determined and bloodthirsty. "Let 'em take this first!"
There was the sound of a tremendous explosion, and then a cheerful announcer blurted out: "Cave-inator 4: Take Back Dystopia will air Friday at 8."
"Goodie," Earl Sinclair, portly head of the Sinclair household, noted with an approving nod as he sat on his stool in the middle of the living room, his red and black plaid flannel shirt covered in broken potato chips.
"Dad?" Robbie asked as he sat down on a sofa made from carved bone and rock. "Can you help me with my homework?"
There was a long pause. Earl didn't glance at his son, but continued to watch tv. "Are there numbers?"
"Are we pretending letters are numbers?"
"Not really, no."
"Are we going to talk about triangles, but instead of coloring in dem, we're actually going to discuss how triangles relate to numbers?"
Robbie sighed and bowed his head. "This isn't about math class, Dad."
Earl shrugged. "Okay, den. Whattaya got for me, son?"
Robbie anxiously leaned forward with pencil and paper in hand. "Okay, Dad, get this: I have to write a story for my literature class, but no matter how hard I try, I can't think of anything to write."
Earl shot his son a dry glance, one brow arched. "Lemme get dis straight: you can't write yer own story, so you're jus' gonna write down what ev'ryone else says an' take all da credit?"
Robbie nervously looked away and shrugged, his heart racing, his pulse throbbing in his eyes. "Yeah, I mean, no, I mean, I don't -."
Earl nodded and grinned. "Don't beat yerself up over it, kiddo. Keep on doin' what yer doin' an' you'll end up head of a television production company." He clasped his hands together. "So, whatya got?"
Robbie sighed with relief and perused his paper. "Okay, there's this female … and the sun is really a handsome dinosaur that -."
"Charlene help you wit' dat part?"
Robbie nodded sadly. "Yeah."
"First of all, get rid of all dat silly nonsense."
"But she said it'd help me go out with girls," Robbie countered.
Earl stood up and brushed off his shirt. "Son, lemme teach you a little life lesson: you don't go to chicks to learn how to get chicks. You go to guys. Guys are meant fer chicks."
"But Uncle -."
"I don't care what your mother's brother said!" Earl growled, exasperated, gesturing wildly with his arms as though he were drowning in a swamp. "He has no chicks!" He jabbed an index finger in his chest. "I married a chick! Who would you rather listen to?"
Robbie shrugged. "You?"
Earl sat back down, nodding. "Sheesh," he sighed. "Anyway, your mother was attracted to me because I hunkered down an' became a towering mass of muscle."
"I thought she felt sorry for you when you were voted 'Most likely to slip through a sewer grate'."
Earl glared at his son. "Son … do you wanna graduate?"
Robbie nodded eagerly. "Yeah!"
Earl's eyes pierced through Robbie's soul. "Do you wanna live to see tomorrow?"
"Now use yer hands ta write before I break 'em," Earl ordered before leaning back, sighing happily, and closing his eyes.
The male saw her deep in the swamp: she was a true sight to behold. Sure, she could've used a different shade of eyeshadow to complement her scale tone in early morning light, but that didn't matter to him.
All he knew was that there was a strong, awful smell coming from the depths of the swamp. There were bubbles and smoke and stuff and the sharp points of very large horns were beginning to surface.
He ran at a dead run toward the female, his heart pumping, his scales glistening with sweat, his testosterone musking up the entire swamp to where you barely could smell the foul stench of the water anymore.
Just as the 50-foot swamp monster, a hulking green toothy behemoth, bore down on the timid little female, his drool threatening to drown her, he jumped in front of the dainty buttercup and grabbed hold of the swamp monster's jaws … well, two of his teeth, anyway, as that was the only that'd fit in the male's strong but somewhat relatively smaller grasp. With a mighty heave and a bellowing "ho" the male broke off the teeth and slashed at the swamp monster's mouth until it sunk back into the depths, desperate to find a dentist with the proper equipment.
"Oh, my hero," the female cooed gently, running her fingers over the male's sweaty scales.
He caressed her and kissed her on the forehead. "Now we're married," he told her.
Earl smiled. "What do you t'ink?"
Robbie smiled politely and backed away toward the kitchen. "Uh, thanks, Dad … I think I'll head over to school now and turn it in. Thanks for your help."
Earl nodded and brushed him away sheepishly. "Aw, t'anks, Robbie. Go get 'em."
Robbie nodded. "I, uh, I sure will, Dad."
"I'll have extra barbeque ready … or your mother will … by da time you get out of school. Gotta give da girls somethin'."
Robbie laughed nervously. "Right, Dad. See ya later," he told his father, running as fast as he could to school as soon as he was out of sight.