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His Holiness put the cigarette out in the Bowl of the Ninth Heaven. This was taking too damn long and his old DuckBack raincoat was getting itchy. He liked the feel of cloth against his naked buttocks as much as the next holy man, but that twerp Tsering had better hurry up with his robes. He had to meet a man about a thing.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in!”
The door opened to admit a large, purple and thoroughly wet Deinonychus.
“Rainy, isn’t it?”
“How should I know?” asked the Dalai Lama
“Well you’re the one with the rain coat”
“True… but that’s only because my robes are being laundered.”
“Chinese laundry down the road?”
“You’re kidding right?”
“Ah. Sorry. I’m Barney.”
“No shit? I’m the Dalai Lama.”
Seems Barney had a problem – he was officially extinct, and he couldn’t deal with it.
“Too bad”, said His Holiness. “Here, have a smoke.”
“Don’t mind if I do… hmm. Where’s the ashtray?”
His Holiness indicated the Bowl of the Ninth Heaven, which was overflowing with ash, matches and cigarette butts.
“You need to tell me what to do. People either run away in terror when they see me or claim they’re agents for Steven Spielberg’s latest project. Plus, I think I’m being followed by the Men in Black.”
“The Men in Black? Annoying black dude with bad attitude and a white sidekick?”
“That’s them alright.”
“Hmm… perhaps you should accept the facts and try and umm… get on with your life?”
“How?”
Get some reconstructive surgery; write a spiritual book about sex…”
“Doing it Dino Style!”
“… Umm maybe something with a little more class? Anyway, my point is start a cult and get rich. Doesn’t matter how ugly you are then. No offense.”
“None Taken.”
“I mean look at me I didn’t even invent Buddhism or anything and Richard Gere worships me.”
“Yea… but I think the sexual abstinence would kill me.”
“Hmm… well you could always tell people you’re a long lost Jackson. They’ll believe you, dinosaur and all. Do a duet with Britney Spears or something. Skanky ho’.”
“Yeah tell me about it.”
There was another knock at the door. This time it was Tsering.
“Thank Aum the Diamond Buddha you’re here! What took you so long? Now give me my robes and empty out this stinking ashtray!”
“I’ll be leaving then,” said Barney Jackson, Dinosaur Popstar. “Thanks for the advice.”
“No problem,” said His Holiness. “Bless bless”. He lit another cigarette.
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