Jurrasic Garden

I was  navigating the harsh vegetablish terrain of my garden, collecting grasses for my tortoise to eat this morning. (He's a Sulcata. He loves weeds. He's so awesome. =D) As I twisted my way through the dense undergrowth of a large tomato patch, trying to ignore the sickly sweet sent of nightshade infiltrating my nasal passages, (yes, tomatoes are a type of nightshade. Just don't eat the leaves. =P) my eyes feel upon something shiny. The bird part immediately wanted to know what it was, and if it was edible. The squirrel part froze, hoping to not be caught, and the wolf wanted to kill it. My human quickly side broke up their warring and stepped in for a closer look. Upon inspection, I found that it was a pair of clip on sun shades. The kind that flip up and down.

The geek kicked in, and I realized my immediate danger. These sunshades could only belong to one kind of person. A snooty field scientist..... The kind you'd kill off in a movie. The kind of character that you don't care about enough to be very upset over, but the kind just tough enough to impart a sense of shock at his death. The kind of character who's soul purpose in the movie is to demonstrate what the others are up against in the manner of a bloody bloody death.
I knew this, and I immediately felt the need to make myself scarce. We'd done it. the threat was real. And now the human race would pay the price. We'd really done it this time. We had cloned....... Dinosaurs. Yes, that's right. The government had successfully cloned dinosaurs, the dinosaurs escaped, and were lurking in back yard. My garden was........ A Jurassic park.

I frantically cast my eyes around, hoping to not find fresh meat. I saw none. I knew not of how long ago he was slaughtered. I could only guess. It seemed pretty old, as the vines were almost covering the glasses, but then, maybe they went flying when the cold blooded monsters ripped the poor guy in half. Either way, I neither saw nor smelt flesh. That meant that while I would not run into any scavengers in search of leftovers, I would also be in danger of becoming breakfast to some crazy ass son of a petri dish.
I decided that my best chance was to sneak away as swiftly and quietly as I could. I snatched up the shades and put my sneaky-run plan into motion.

I traveled back into my house without further mishap and set the glasses on the table. I explained our garden's contingency to my Dad. He seemed pretty understanding. At least he didn't immediately suggest my use of a straitjacket. I also explained that I didn't find any gore, and that I was a bit let down. I was hoping to at least find some toes.

So, long story short, there are dinosaurs in my garden. Or, as I'm gonna call them, crazy-ass-sons-of-a-petri-dish. Or maybe petri-bastards? That would also work. Whatever the marital status of the parents of these crazy ass petri spawn, I'm gonna be stocking up on heavy artillery.
Hasta la vista, petri baby.