The Cubicle Talk of Larry the Tyrannosaur and
Tim the Stegosaurus
Mike Itaya
“Your backside hurts,” Tim say, eating donuts.
“I can’t get no wang dang,” I say.
“You can’t get no wang dang because your backside hurts. Your backside hurts because there’s a caveman spear sticking out your ass,” Tim say.
My Friday nights. Lonely. Try to get some sweetness before Monday start. Cavemen. Cavemen. Cavemen. Take another spear to the ass. Can’t sleep right. Try to roar, but my screech echoes in the trees. I sound like a bitch.
“Can’t pull it out,” I go.
“Neither can the others,” Tim say, sipping tea.
Their T-Rex arms just as useless as mine. They talk shit down at the water hole. It’s got so bad I go there when no one’s around.
“How you think that’s gonna look, a T-Rex peeking behind trees?” I say.
Tim’s a good boss. And a bad liar. “Larry, you got these bitches in stitches.”
I don’t need much. Just want things better. Get me some caveman tartare. Crank “Indian Outlaw.” Get me a dino babe who loves 4WD and Tim McGraw.
Don’t want no Beanie Weenies. I want Miller Time. Not so much Miller Time I roll around hollering by the water hole. In front the Stegosaur family.
“Don’t do that,” Tim say.
“Don’t do that. Again.”
My baby tossed me. Where I gonna meet another Janet? Janet was the one. We spent Sundays in heaven. Watched HBO. She sat on my face. I called her babydoll. Told her I loved her. She did not re-ci-pro-cate. I feel wrong in all the right places. Lordy, I have cold nights. Feel all this regret, with nothing but Beanie Weenies. I throw my last can in the lake. It doesn’t go far.
Mike Itaya lives in southern Alabama, where he works in a library. His work appears or is forthcoming in Oracle Fine Arts Review, The Airgonaut, Bending Genres, decomP Magazine, Queen Mob's Teahouse, Belletrist Magazine, Heavy Feather Review, Orson's Review, Déraciné Magazine, and The Lindenwood Review.