Breezes finger the leaves, making last night’s rain splash off them onto the ferny ground. Two Brontosauruses stand beside a shimmering lake of clear water, long necks lowered, drinking their (enormous) fill. One of the Brontosauruses raises its head:
“You’re supposed to be on lookout, Bert!” He’s exasperated. “You know we agreed, one of us drinks, the other keeps an eye out for Tyrannosaurs. And spiders. You know I hate spiders!”
The other raises its head: “Sorry, Dickie, me old china, forgot. Orf ya go, I’ll go lookout.”
Dickie lowers his head and drinks.
“I am drinking!”