Prologue

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The Dinosaur Puncher Prologue
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August 13, 2020

This Isn't what Dinosaur Puncher Had planed when he woke up this morning. But honestly who expects plasma guards melting into their shins? Especially at a supposedly friendly game? Still, Stealth Raptors were not on the agenda.

Coffee. Paper. Shit.

Didn't say it was an extravagant plan. Just, A plan.

'Rat a tat tat.'

The fuck is that?

'Rat a tat tat.'

FUUCK!

With a Lightning impulse to his sleepy brain, Dinosaur knew exactly what that was. It was a ring on glass with a thin layer of paint that reads 'Dinosaur Puncher Private Investigations'.

The Rapping had been on the paint he would bet anything it was on the paint. Whole fucking door to knock on why must they always 'rat a tat' on the paint on the glass?

'Rat a tat tat.'

FuCK.

"Oh right oh right! I'm coming don't crack the glass! damn brutes."

As Dinosaur Puncher shuffled to the door beer bottles clinked and clattered together in an array spreading from his toe like dominos set to fall. They must have been carefully placed by mischievous gods, taking delightful glee in their gentle chiding by placing them just so. Seemingly not content to sit in silent judgement, more bottles fell from every conceivable support at his passing. Shelves. chairs. dressers. Beer bottles committing suicide in a loud clattering that clinged and clanged for far far too long. As he reached the door he mused without mirth that someone, should clean this place up.

"Alright have at you! It's 830 in the morning!"

The quick pull of the door sent another half dozen bottles scrambling and spinning, making quite a ruckus.

"Its half past 10, I thank you."

A hairless, featherless naked platypus-duck-thing waddled into the office, careful to avoid the occasional rolling bottle, one webbed foot carefully feeling for good honest wood to balance, the other expertly shifting bottles and errant runaway cigarette butt ashtrays aside. The featherless, hairless, whatever it was, hopped atop the desk, and began casually toeing, if you could call it a toe, a scrap of crusty sandwich, perhaps four days old.

"Oye!, gonna eat that?!"

The duck was now emphatically pointing with it's toe at the crusty sandwich on the desk.

Despite his 3 piece splitting headache, Dinosaur Puncher smiled to himself as he shut the door.

"I was saving it..."

The platypus looked distraught for all of two seconds, and it was gone. He assumed a nonchalant posture, naked chest out, one gross curly hair poking out of one tit, breast heaving with every other breath.

"It's whatever.."

Sigh. "Go on then have-"

but the sandwich was well gone before the words had left Puncher's mouth. A pair of beady black eyes and a voraciously vibrating bill eviscerated crusty bread to smithereens, and it was over. The Platypus plopped itself down prone on the desk in what one can assume it thought was a very sensuous and flattering position.

It was not.

"SOOO, Late night or what? You left the pub pretty early. Lots of hot chicks! epic mate! first-"

Staring was inappropriate to be sure, but as usual when Platypus rambled on about this or that, Dinosaur Puncher's thoughts wondered. It was most likely, he mused to himself, a duck. Perhaps in the platypus family but also a little bit duck. Look at the breast. Those could be duck breast or chicken breast, Fowl? The nipple is a little off putting. That one claw hand though. five fingered. that's how he swipes and text! So what are we saying? ChickenDuckPlatypus-Human?! But But I mean-

" -blam! and that Dino went straight to the floor. lights out!"

-So like some kind of interspecies orgy. can the RNA and the DNA combine? No absurd. It's Different species. Get a grip. Could be Dinosaur DNA. Rubbish. he's all of 2 feet tall. That nipple is disturbing.

"-some big gang or whatever so I says Oye! YOu thar!-"

"Wait. Dino? in the city? You better start from the begining".

Dinosaur Puncher reached in his desk for a spiral pad. He absently flipped through pages of scribbled notes, diagrams of traps left by devious murderers and thieves and tricksters. His other hand went searching for a clicky top that might have just a little ink.
The platypus made a maneuver from prone on the desk to what could only be described as 'plopping up'. He then began making serious gestures with claw and vestigial wing.

"Riought! Oye. so start from the beginning aight? Kay. So Here's the deal. Holler up Ramsey say 'hey Ramsey want to get in a twist? going about. come along'... are you following?"...

"You and Ramsey went for a pint at the pub. Then what."

"Well, I mean I wouldn't put it like that.. there were other things, other enterprises as such, ballers. First we went round the club. to get at the ladies!'

"You didn't get in. Then what."

'Oye! Who's telling are you telling or am I telling!"

"right. sorry. what happened after you and Ramsey went in the club?"

"we didn't get in, so instead we waited at the breakfast cakes. Ramsey see he's keeping his eye out for this slash named Jill. BOOM! Like thunder yeah! Club doors go crashing off and one of them triceratops boys comes raging out the club! And these other Dinos, they are chasing him!"

"Dino chasing Dino ehh?"

Dinosaur Puncher casually discarded another clicky top and rummaged for another.

"That's what I said! I know some been allowed cross the barrier sense the war-"

"what were the other dinos?" more triceratops?"

"nah eh.. a pack of raptors."

"raptors, indeed."

Dinosaur was standing up absently grabbing his hat and umbrella. He tucked the umbrella in the umbrella sheath of his coat. Looked like rain. It always rained when he had to go out. What were raptors chasing a triceratops for? Why would a triceratops need to run from raptors? The tinkling of glass on glass bottle as he shuffled toward the door woke him from his reverie, that and the last clicky top he disgustingly through on the floor. He stared down at the impressions of invisibly scrawled thoughts that bled no ink and vowed to buy more clicky tops whilst he was out.

"Oye a minute where you going?'

The Platypus crossed and uncrossed its legs with a sickly skin on skin smacking sound as a pair of beady black eyes attempted to arrest Dinosaur Puncher's exodus.

"I am the Dinosaur Puncher. If there's Dinosaurs to be punched-"

"I am the Dinosaur Puncher. If there's Dinosaurs to be punched then only I can do it! Yeah yeah there, I finished it for you, how bout you 'punch up some rent please mate', past due."

"You ate my sandwich."

What!? I thought that was a gift that was!

"Take it out of what I owe you."

With that, Dinosaur Puncher whisked himself briskly, and with far more agility than any hangover could account for, out the door. The sound of webbed feet hitting the ground and moving swiftly cross the office was only a beat behind, but the Dinosaur Puncher was long gone.

"One week Dinosaur Puncher! you hear me?! One week or you are outa here!".

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