Another day, another flipper to flipper traffic jam, Rue thought as she turned up her audiobook. A dulcet manly voice, warm and husky, filled her cockpit. Paranormal romances were her secret vice. An ear-piercing squawk tore Rue from her star-crossed lovers. A flock of blue-footed agilisauruses was meandering across Route 30.

Rolling her eyes, Rue checked her watch. One of the younger bipeds had ripped the front flipper of the Volvo Flyer a few hovercrafts ahead of her. The pilot made the mistake of honking. Now a group of very pissy two-foot tall adult dinosaurs were river-dancing on the guy’s windshield. Very slowly and very quietly, traffic eased around the wrecked vehicle.

“Idiot, good way to make everybody late,” Rue muttered as she took off for her exit.

With purse, lunchbag, briefcase, and extra large Stanley cup, Rue left her hovercraft and dashed for her workplace entrance. Arriving late meant there were no spaces near the front door. You would think the Department of Dinosaur Affairs would have the decency to supply its employees with covered parking like they do in private industry, but you’d be wrong. All the DoDA employees got were security guards with big umbrellas to distract the pterodactyls. Ever since Old Donny got dragged away by microraptors the guards were few and far between. With a burst of speed, Rue hit the revolving door just as a shadow loomed overhead.

“Crisis, guv, right over the border. Reports of Apatosaurus in Fairmount Park,” Hank said as Rue set down her belongings.

“And good morning to you too. Bully for Brontosaurus. That’s the Philly division’s headache.”

Rue removed her sneakers and limb shields. She slipped into her heels and headed for the ladies’ room.

“That’s just it. The overflow of injured are being routed to Delco hospitals since the stegosaurus are still attacking hoverbuses in Center City. Mating season started earlier every year. I tell ya. Einstein is bulging. Jefferson is at capacity,” Hank said following into the bathroom.

Rue hurried towards the first stall. She paused at the door.

“Wait a minute, thunder lizards are all kinds of violet this time of year. Big goofy purple dinosaurs. Why were so many people getting hurt on God’s own Monday morning?”

“Mainly tourists, a ton of bozzos are visiting for the long-necker races,” Hank said. “I predicted something like this would happen. Have your festivals in late fall, that what I say. Wait until the cooler temperatures gentles the big babies into hibration sleepy time. But no one listens to biologists. It’s the perfect storm, guv. Hordes of the Fanny pack brigade meet McStompy. Dinomaggeden.”

“Hold on let me think,” Rue said.

“Sure thing, I have all the team leaders that could make it in waiting in conference room A. Merv is on family leave and Steffie got t-boned by a triceratops. Low impact, flippers took the brunt of it, she’s got a strain or something climbing out of the airship,” Hank said on his way out of the restroom.

Rue covered her eyes and dreamt of a world without thunder lizards. What if animals were small and hairy? No time for science fiction, old girl, she thought shaking her head.

Looking at he weary morning face, she washed her hands and reapplied her red lipstick.

“Luce call/text BobbiJo of Chester DoDA and Stan the Man of Montgomery and ask pretty please with sugar on top for the loan of all the mobile med units they can spare to triad on Cityline,” Rue said.

Her phone AI chimed right-o.

“Oh and Luce send a fruit basket to Steffie Jay Gould from the entire DoDA family and add chocolate and charge it to personal.”

Her phone chimed awe you big softie, as Rue headed for Dinomaggeden, again.