Mowing the Lawn pt. 3

     You suddenly find yourself in a dinosaur-themed escape room where the only way out is...well, you're still trying to figure out that part. A pack of marauding Triceratopses begin bounding toward you and your time traveling lawn mower at an ungodly pace. You don't know what to do so you do the only thing that a person in this exact, insane situation would do; you leap on the back of the smallest Triceratops and begin riding it like a cowboy would a horse or a Bachelor contestant would a horse.
     And it's pretty much the most awesome, memorable (and only up to that moment) dinosaur ride of your life. The Triceratops tries with everything it has in itself to buck you off its back but you won't let go of your death grip on one of the beast's many layers of neck fat. The creature looks at its friends but they don't really know what to do because they have never seen such a brave human being (in fact, they have never even seen a human being let alone one crazy enough to attempt pulling off a stunt this bold. It would be like if aliens came to our planet and the first thing they saw was Evel Knievel jumping a rocket into the Snake Canyon so then that would be the aliens' baseline for typical courage displayed by a person. The aliens would be let down by everything after that, even the Super Bowl, unless it included someone bungee jumping off the top of the stadium in which case they might give it a glance.)
     Then you make a grave mistake. You try to showboat a little even though there is no one even there to witness it. It's as if you were filling up your car with gas in a grandiose manner at 3 am (that's actually what Rob Thomas is singing about in that one song; you should really pay closer attention to the lyrics, it can open up a whole new world to you). Who are you trying to impress at that point, the family of raccoons who is rummaging through your collection of Dave Matthews Band CDs in the backseat? Raccoons are total DMB heads. No one loves a funky jam session more than these dumpster diving, night prowlers who you can often find loitering outside the local Seven Eleven (and no, I'm not referring to the band's devoted following). Their favorite song is Ants Marching because that means there is a picnic nearby that they can raid.

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