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Juan says, if all these animals are meant to be extinct, they should know that we aren’t part of their food chain, and stop chasing us.  I say that they probably don’t know that they’re meant to be extinct, and they probably have the same philosophy as us, eat first, ask questions later.  Besides, I point out, the proof that scientists drink too much is that some of them think the dinosaurs did not become extinct; they evolved into birds, and the fifty-ton Humperdinkasaurus bearing down on us would probably evolve into Lady Amherst’s Pheasant.  Juan says that he wishes it would hurry up, then he could hit it on the head with a bottle.  I tell him that sort of thing takes millions of years, so, terrified, and gloamishly behind schedule, we don’t wait, and, offering toast after toast to successful, and speedy, evolvement, and singing The Pheasant Plucking Song at the top of our voices, we crawl on, as fast as we possibly can.

Professor Humperdink’s Diary