Dear Denver the Last Dinosaur

Your story does not add up.  Your egg gets buried for millions of years, but is under just enough dirt that construction workers can dig it up?  Then when a rag tag group of multicultural teens knock into it, you emerge victorious, ready to skateboard and play guitar no less.  No dinosaur I have ever known rides a skateboard.  And only a few have ever been able to play the hammered dulcimer, but none could play the guitar.

You are a grifter.  It is easily seen as you deal with the poor teenagers you have duped into serving you.  They think you are teaching them life lessons.  You are probably robbing them blind of their newspaper route money so you can buy something, anything to dull the pain of the realization that you are the only one of your kind left.  No amount of spray paint in a paper bag will change the fact even the most unique snowflake eventually melts and leaves behind nothing.

Seriously, you think by putting a wig on you, people will think you are a dog?  You are green and appear to be at least ten feet tall.  You are trying to get these kid caught and arrested for dealing in antiquities or possibly have them hanged by PETA.

Speaking of those kids you hang out with, please explain what this "friend" of yours is wearing on his head.  

I know what it looks like, and that is not the head it it supposed to be worn on.  If I find out you had something to do with this, I will have the Smithsonian carving you up before the day is done.

And that little lick you are giving him leads me to my last point.  Your friends like to sing a little song, don't they?  How does that little ditty go?

 "Denver the last dinosaur, he's my friend and a whole lot more.
 Denver, the last dinosaur, shows me a world I've never seen before."

That's the song, isn't it, Denver?  What does "a whole lot more" than a friend constitute?  What is this "world" these children have never seen before?

Answer the question, pederast.

You sicken me.