The Announcement

[RedPiggy]

Author's Note: For those of you terrified this is another long saga ... it's just a one-shot.
The large gate creaked slightly, allowing the athletic green iguanodon to pass through to the meticulously cultivated garden that lay in front of the six-story-high (or so) stone castle, which was decorated with pink and blue banners everywhere, embroidered with golden crowns.

It smelled so refreshing, to come here in the springtime, thought the young adult male dinosaur.

A large brown-haired ape-like being, Junior Gorg, snoozed happily by the front door.

The dinosaur shook his head, smiling, as he squeezed past the front door and looked around for Junior's parents. He heard a female singing in the kitchen, so he decided to go there first.

Ma Gorg hummed a cheerful tune as she made some vegetarian stew over a large fire, her blonde hair pulled up in a large bun, her pink and white kimono hanging loosely on her body.

The dinosaur climbed up a small wooden stepladder and cleared his throat to get her attention.

The female Gorg turned and gasped when she saw her new visitor. She shook a spoon at him (which was almost as long as his tail). "I TOLD you and your friends to go away!" she screamed in terror.

"But Mom!"

Ma Gorg thundered towards him, bending down to glare at him. "Don't 'but Mom' me! My husband and I have been through TOO much in our lives to have to deal with some loose end we don't even remember!" She reared back, inhaling deeply. "You are NOT our son! Now, GO AWAY!" She started to come down hard with her spoon, while the dinosaur braced himself for the unpleasant impact.

"Robbie! Get a grip!" a concerned female voice admonished.

Robbie Sinclair jerked up in bed, rubbing his chest, grimacing. He looked over at the brown-scaled female beside him. "Why do my ribs hurt?"

The female rolled her eyes and turned from him. "I smacked you when you wouldn't stop screaming, Rob," she informed him in an exasperated tone. "A girl's got to get some sleep sometime!" She chuckled. "And so do I."

Robbie sighed. "Very funny, Wendy," he groaned. He stared at the sheets.

Wendy growled. "You're staring at the sheets again, aren't you? Don't you ever get tired of being on edge all the time?"

Robbie shrugged, even though Wendy couldn't see him.

"And don't sit there and shrug at me, either," she warned him. "Just write them an invitation and close your eyes."

"Closing my eyes makes it worse," Robbie mumbled, clenching the sheets in his scaly green hands.

Wendy sighed and sat up and glared at him. "If you don't fall asleep this very instant, I'll ... I'll ... I'll knock your head clean off your shoulders!"

Robbie glanced back at her. She reminded him of his mother and how she used to treat his father. "What do I say, Wendy?" he asked, exasperated. "How should I write the invitation? 'To my reincarnated parents with little to no memory of me or my siblings -- Hey, I'm getting hitched! Wanna come?' Is that proper etiquette?"

Wendy frowned. "Why are you obsessed with the idea they'll reject you? So they've gained a good million or two pounds ... I'm sure they aren't going to squash you as soon as you invite them."

Robbie leaned back against the stone headboard, his Mohawk-spines bending uncomfortably. "This would've been easier if I just did what Spike did -- a secret little ceremony in the middle of the jungle. No attendees, no music ... just the night sounds of the jungle, a ring, and Thighs of Thunder caressing your cheek."

Wendy curled her lip a little. "So, you dream about Thighs of Thunder now, do you?"

Robbie shot her a glance. He couldn't help but smirk. "C'mon, Wendy ... you know us males ... we all dream about you two in a tar pit going at it, clawing each other to pieces. It's the epitome of the male sense of romance."

Wendy continued to growl quietly. "I wish I could tell when you were being sarcastic."

Robbie began to open his mouth, but kept it shut, his eyes widening. "Actually, so could I," he said with a tone of disbelief.

Wendy giggled a bit and relaxed her head on his shoulder, staring up at him. "That oracle dropped a bomb on them, Rob," she said quietly. "Any reasonable dinosaur would expect them to freak out about it. But," she continued, her voice trying to cheer him up, "even if they don't see you as their child anymore, who could turn down participating in someone's happiness?"

He frowned. "You really want an answer?"

"No," she replied happily, playfully slapping his arm. "I want to know how your show is doing."

Robbie shook her off. "What kind of segue was that?"

Wendy rolled her eyes. "The type that says I want to change the subject, if I'm going to be kept awake again."

Robbie shook his head, lowering it. "The human kid said it was almost ready for distribution over the internet. He said there was enough material from that old videotape I made and that other stuff lying around to fill a couple of seasons' worth at least. He said he'll forward us the profits when he visits the Underground each summer."

"You know, I think he resents it when you call him a kid, Rob," Wendy cooed. "Remember how you hated to be belittled all the time? Say it with me: 'To-by'. He's around your age ... you could act like it."

Robbie shrugged. "He's gifted with technology. I'll give him that."

Wendy gasped delightfully. "You're jealous!"

"I am not!"

Wendy laughed. "You are! He represents all you can't stand about the present human condition -- that they're better off than we ever were without having to do as much work!"

"I'm supposed to like that they're spoiled?"

"Not everyone is," Wendy retorted. "You like organizing and community work -- go find some disenfranchised humans and get them up to speed," she told him, shrugging in that "it's simple, stupid" attitude of hers.

"Can we please get back to the real matter at hand?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not if it means wallowing in self-pity again, Robert Mark Sinclair," she replied icily.

They stared at each other in silence for what seemed like an eternity before Robbie sighed and got up from the bed.

<><><><><><>

"Ma! A letter arrived for ya!" Junior bellowed, plunking the tiny envelope on the kitchen table.

Ma entered cheerfully from the kitchen and peered down at the tiny rectangular item smaller than one of her thimbles. "My, what a small letter," she noted thoughtfully. "It can't be from your girlfriend, Junior --."

"Ma-aa," he replied, embarrassed. "Me an' Amara --."

"Don't interrupt, Oh Cautious and Frustratingly Slow-Blooming Son of Mine," Ma shot back, rapping his knuckles with a spoon. "A mother's greatest dream is to see her child grow into a nice strong Gorg." She snorted. "Besides, there would be a reason to cook a banquet fit for a king!" she continued, quivering with excitement.

"I am already a king, Ma," Junior noted in a hurt tone, rubbing his hand.

She pouted and pinched his cheek ... hard. "And you are a wise king," she replied. "I'm sure you'll live up to that wisdom sooner or later."

At last, after she'd carefully opened the tiny letter and brought out her magnifying glass, she gasped, a smile broadening over her face.

"What is it, Ma?"

She held the letter close to her heart and sighed happily. "Somebody's getting married!"

 

[The Count]

Very nice... Applauded it as I finished reading. Thanks for sharing this with us.