The world just can’t throw a bone to local paleontologist Dr. Ray Parsons.
“God damn, I’m going to crack some skulls,” Dr. Parsons angrily shouted as he stormed through his office.
Dr. Parsons, 65, had been a happily married “old fossil” for 43 years. However, within the last month, according to the ol’ dinosaur, the marriage has become bone dry. It became so fractured that Dr. Parsons caught his coworker, Dr. Pat Anderson, a successful anthropologist, boning his wife.
After this immoral excavation, Dr. Parsons became furious.
“I’m going to bury them, dig them out, and bury them again,” the splintered doctor said.
Suddenly, the bare bones of reality hit him. Dr. Parsons knew that he would never be able to crack some skulls or break some arms – living, human ones, that is.
“I hate them! I hate me!” Dr. Parsons said, sobbing, as he grasped the Homo Erectus arm that he had been studying, trying to break it with all his might yet ultimately failing.
“Anderson is built like a train. I’m just skin and bones,” Dr. Parsons cried.
At press time, the hip bone connected to the thigh bone, the thigh bone connected to the knee bone, and the knee bone connected to the cold, unforgiving ground to the tune of the paleontologist’s anguished cries.