GLEN PICKARD

Ray Arnold took the last drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out quickly in the nearby ashtray, exhaling a thin cone of smoke over the monitor in front of him. He leaned back in his chair as the smoke dissipated into the ether, and watched the large red swirling mass on the screen in front of him move a few millimetres further down, over the green island. Their island. He had told Malcolm that this storm would be a bad one, and was expecting a call to evacuate any minute now. Which was a shame. He didn’t want to miss the wet n’ wild dinosaur strip feast.

A few right clicks of his mouse later, and Ray had eight park CCTV displays lined up on the screen in front of him. As the rain lashed down over the park he saw a soaked triceratops brushing up against a tree. He was immediately hard. As his burning erection tightened his pants, he started to regret wearing crotch less briefs, even if it was crotch less Thursday. Ray looked around the office, deserted by all except that slob Dennis Nedry, who was hidden behind his filthy desk. The desire to relieve himself started to ache within Ray, as he looked back at the screen to see the triceratops had started to eat some shrubbery at the foot of the tree. Wind and rain lashed the beast’s shapely skin, caressing its shimmering scales in a glorious display of the herbivore’s hot highlights. A tiny drop of spittle fell from Ray’s mouth.

At the other end of the office, amidst the Pepsi cans and crisp packets, Nedry gazed at the stolen embryos on his desk, totally enraptured by the tiny unborn sex monsters. He was rocking a raging semi-on.

Almost without realising it, Ray had unzipped his trousers. Reaching down, he took his pulsing dinosaur devastator firmly in hand and, lustful eyes dancing across the erotic show in front of him, began to viciously choke his raptor raper with a furious passion. As the triceratops chewed leaves with a bored expression on it’s face, Ray revelled in the beast’s soaking sexiness, imaging how he would love to conduct his own reptile relations. Then, just as he was reaching the final strokes, Ray saw a Dilophosaurus in another screen extending it’s neck flaps, ready to spit it’s poison at something off screen.

Over on Nedry’s desk, he was ensuring any dinosaurs bred from the stolen embryos would forever bare his likeness.

Moments after the Dilophosaurus has fired off it’s poison, Ray saluted it by rocketing his own fluid attack all over his work screen. He sighed, a mixture of contention and ambivalence. Now there was an entirely different swirling mass to deal with.