Mr Otter the dirty rotter
Mr Otter liked to be mean. It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He got the same enjoyment out of being mean as someone like you or I would get from doing something lovely.
“I’m just born that way.” Mr Otter would declare and then go running off to upset someone.
The people of the riverbank said that Mr Otter the dirty rotter had a heart made of a blackened acorn and a soul as slimy and unpleasant as bacon fat. None of the other river side dwellers could be certain of this claim without performing some sort of surgery on Mr Otter which is, of course, a ridiculous thing to even contemplate.
“I’m going to do surgery on Mr Otter The Dirty Rotter to see if he has a heart made of a blackened acorn.” Said Timmy two brains; the local dinosaur and therefore doctor. “I will then attempt to prove that Mr Otter’s soul is as slimy and unpleasant as bacon fat.”
He coughed gently into his claw. No one in the old tree said anything. Most had fallen asleep as soon as the tree hall meeting began and were snoring very rudely and very loudly.
“Does anyone object?” Timmy Two Brains asked.
The riverside council that were still awake shook their heads. They were sure that if Timmy Two Brains had an idea it was probably a good one, he did have two brains after all. Besides, they were bored and wanted to go and play outside in the sun rather than be inside this ancient tree.
“It is settled then.” Timmy Two Brains gave a wide smile which exposed his razor sharp teeth.
That night, as the moon rose into the night sky like a pingpong ball trying to gatecrash a firefly party, a claw was inserted in the lock of number 13 river bank cottages. The door swung silently open to reveal a mat on the floor which read:
“Unwelcome” In big rude letters.
As you may have guessed, this was the home of Mr Otter The Dirty Rotter.
Timmy two Brains slipped silently into the house with his medical bag tucked under his stubby arm. The door was shut with a quiet snick of the lock.
Despite being mean Mr Otter The Dirty Rotter was very house proud. This was a strange thing as he never had any visitors. He would sneer as he dusted and say:
“I’m glad no one will be able to enjoy my spider web free house.” whilst the homeless spiders themselves scuttled away to grumble and drink from bottles in paper bags in dark corners.
“I must be careful.” Timmy Two Brains whispered to himself, as a floorboard creaked under his 40 ton body.
“Probably shouldn’t have whispered that to my self.” The dinosaur whispered again.
"Or then." His leathery brow furrowed.
It briefly crossed the clever dinosaurs mind that this was a rather silly situation. He was fairly certain that dinosaurs were rather unlikely to be around in the present age, let alone being a fully qualified medical practitioner but the thought soon passed and he crept deeper into the house.
Doors led off in every direction. Timmy Two Brains knew that behind one of them slumbered that villainous rogue, Mr Otter The Dirty Rotter but which one? … WHICH ONE!!! He listened carefully. Was that the sound of someone snoring like a jet engine on take off? Was that a sign on one of the doors that said:
KEEP OUT . ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, “Mr Otter’s bedroom, shove off!!
“I’m getting close.” The dinosaur whispered to himself. In the excitement Timmy let out a little fart, though, being a 40 ton dinosaur it still ripped off the front of the house and sent it fluttering on a bean scented wind to settle in the river.
“Shh.” Timmy said to his bottom.
And with that, he dashed into Mr Otter The Dirty Rotters room.
Now, you probably expect Mr Otter to be well, an otter. The funny thing is, he wasn’t. He was a small talking rose garden. He had simply taken the name to be awkward and confuse people.
There he lay with his flowers gently waving in the breeze from the window and glittering with water droplets that fell in a constant mist from a large shower head. He looked very beautiful.
With a roar Timmy Two Brains let atop the mean and unfortunate Mr Otter The Dirty Rotter. The spade came down and the dinosaur began to merrily dig.
“Oy.” Said Mr Otter. “Stop digging me up. That’s rather rude.”
“I’m trying,” said Timmy Two Brains.“To do research on you without your consent, so please lie there and be quiet.”
But of course Mr Otter The Dirty Rotter was having none of it.
“I give you my consent.” He said cruelly. “You are very welcome to dig me up for medical research purposes.”
The dinosaur stopped and leant on his spade.
“But if you give me your consent that means I can’t dig you up without your consent.”
“I know.” Said the wicked little rose garden. “It’s deliciously horrible isn’t it?”
“You are so mean.” Said Timmy Two Brains as he wiped a tear from his black, reptilian eye.
“I was born that way. Don’t judge me man.” The horrible little rose garden said smugly. He rolled out of his flower bed, for this is where rose gardens sleep and slithered across the room to the large brass telephone that hung on the wall.
“Now I’m going to call the police and have you shot for being a stupid dinosaur.”
“Oh come on.” The dinosaur implored. “I’m a modern day marvel.”
Of course Mr Otter The Dirty Rotter, being mean, ignored the dinosaur’s protests and very soon Timmy Two Brains got shot.
You can find information about Timmy Two Brains and other such mad scientists at your local google.
Previously, Timmy Two Brains was shot dead. Just like that. As dead as a sausage, though a prehistoric one.
So, you may be wondering what tale I have to tell about the poor, deceased dinosaur doctor with two brains. This is quite understandable …
We left poor Timmy Two Brain’s lying in a pool of dinosaur blood, his very own dinosaur blood in fact, with Mr Otter the dirty rotter chuckling in his rose bed. Let us step back two minutes before the fatal shot was fired.
“Stop so I can shoot you!” Shouted the man with the big red gun but Timmy two brain’s was too clever for that. Instead of stopping he galloped towards the door.
The man with the gun attempted some reverse psychology.
“I am!” Bellowed Timmy.
The man sighed and raised the gun to shoot. He squeezed the trigger with a sausage like finger, though a sausage that was alive unlike the unfortunate dead one mentioned earlier in this narrative.
“Bang!” Shouted the gun, and spat a bullet at Timmy Two Brains who had nearly reached the door.
The bullet charged through the air like a bawled football hooligan ruffling Mr Otter the dirty rotters’ petals and upsetting the bucket of popcorn he was eating while watching the proceedings. The upset bucket of popcorn began to cry.
“Oomph!” said the bullet as it unexpectedly hit a hard surface and pinged off in another direction with severe concussion. The concussed bullet, unable to recall any reason for being or purpose in life, Became Alan Carr.
The hard surface belonged to something that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the room. A tiny time machine as big as a full sized time machine though much much smaller. The door popped open and another Timmy Two Brains hopped out.
“Gee wiz,” said the man with the gun. The gun itself was smoking as it felt it deserved a treat.
“By stopping that bullet,” the new Timmy Two Brains gestured to the hole in the wall, “I have saved you and therefor saved myself which means that you can come back to save you too.”
Timmy Two Brains, the time traveling dinosaur doctor smiled. “Sorted,” they said in unison … Then the man with the gun shot the new Timmy Two Brains as dead as a prehistoric sausage, because having two of them was giving him a headache.
“You shot the wrong one you nincompoop!” Shouted Mr Otter the dirty rotter through a spray of pop corn crumbs.
“What evs …” said the man with the very tired, very big gun. The man didn’t care, he only worked as a dinosaur exterminator to fund his wife’s deadly drawing-pin addiction.
“Come back!” Screamed Mr Otter The Dirty Rotter as the man left to check on his perforated wife. (She was dead).
“I’m going to get shot when I come here again?” mused Timmy Two Brains. “That sucks…. Right, I better do lots before I come back to this time and place then.”
And with that he squeezed his forty ton body into the tiny time machine leaving Mr Otter The Dirty Rotter weeping bitterly into his flower pillow.
The time machine came to a juddering halt and Timmy peered out of the periscope. There appeared to be lots of people stuck to pieces of wood that were planted in the ground. He assumed that they were trying to make a person forest. Timmy thought that it looked like a very sad person forest.
Our daring dino dropped out of his time machine full of questions and a little bit of wee.
He did a wee.
“I say, hello there, what are you up to?” He asked a chap who had a pointy head band on.
“I am dying for the sins of the world.” Said the man.
“Why?” Timmy asked.
“Because I am the son of God and only through me can people find salvation.”
“Oh, you’re the son of God!”
“Tots…” Said the man on the cross.
“And he created everything?”
“Sure did buddy.”
“Including the means, motive and method for his own sons death?”
A chill wind wafted the sounds of dying men across the hilltop.
“I’d call that very negligent parenting.”
The man muttered something.
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s free will, dude.” The man said more loudly. “People get a choice in what they do.”
“Including dinosaurs with two brains?”
The man thought for a moment. “Um, I guess o?”
“Jolly good.” And with that Timmy Two Brains plucked the man off the cross and sent him on his way thereby saving the world from a lot of wars and boring Sunday mornings in church.
The man went on to become a break dancer and married a lovely lass called Liz. They now live in the highlands of London and have two kids, Wain and Ninja.
And as for Timmy, our duel brain dino doctor? Well, he continued travelling through time and having great adventures. I can’t wait to find out what he’s been up to when he visits me for a cup of tea and a biscuit last Tuesday.