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    #243
    Only the top-halves of the t-rex were made for the two rex animatronic models in TLW -- they were placed on rail tracks so they could be moved. (From: 'BlockParty')
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    Jurassic Park: The Musical! p3
    By CeratosPit

    *Lights turn up on a Costa Rican beach where the fat slob, Dennis Nedry is tanning himself while finishing a hot dog*

    Dennis: Hey, Cabana Boy! Bring me another hot dog! And this time with extra relish! I relish the relish! Ha ha!

    *a middle aged cabana boy with black sunglasses and an enormous forehead walks over to Dennis with a paper bag and a can of shaving cream*

    Dodgson: Dennis, it’s--

    Dennis: Hey! That’s Mr. Nedry to you cabana boy! And I didn‘t ask for shaving-- wait a second… Dodgson?

    Dodgson: I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t use my name, someone might--

    Dennis: *pulls off Dodgson’s sunglasses* I’M SORRY, DODGSON, WHAT’S THAT YOU SAY, DODGSON!? YOU DON’T WANT ME SAYING DODGSON, DODGSON? Heh heh. See, nobody cares. So how the hell did you become a cabana boy?

    Dodgson: *angrily* I am NOT a cab-- it’s a disguise, you idiot! I’m trying to remain undercover, no thanks to you!

    Dennis: God, you’re paranoid. You have my money?

    Dodson: *hands Dennis the paper bag* Seven fifty. On delivery, you get fifty thousand more for every viable embryo we get. That’s 1.5 million if you get all fifteen sPecies.

    Dennis: Sweet. And how am I supposed to transPort ‘em?

    Dodgson: In this! *he hands him the shaving cream can and unscrews out the bottom* There’s enough coolant in that thing for 36 hours. Make sure the embryos get to San Jose by then. Remember, viable embryos. They’re no good to us if they don’t survive.

    *Nedry plays around with it and sPrays the shaving cream in Dodgson’s face, making him fall backwards in pain*

    Dodgson: AGH! My eyes!

    Dennis: *laughs heartily* Hey, make sure your guy on the boat gets it to San Jose. And make sure he’s at the dock by 7 o’clock.

    *Dodgson’s “boss” walks over to him with a mop and bucket*

    Boss: Hey! Cabana Boy! Old lady vomit all over bar! Go clean up now!

    *As the boss walks away, Dodgson just grumbles like Sideshow Bob and wipes his forehead*

    Dennis: And most importantly make sure you don’t get cheap on me. That was Hammond’s mistake. Hey, I can see reflection in your forehead! Ooh, I’ve got some relish in my teeth…

    *Cut to Alan, Ellie, Hammond and Gennaro flying in Hammond’s private jet with a tall man dressed in all black with snakeskin boot and sunglasses. He is Dr. Ian Malcolm*

    Ian: So, you two, ah, dig up dinosaurs? What’s that like?

    Alan: Well you see… When The Sunnnn Is At It’s Zenith--!

    Ellie: Alan! No. We already did that.

    Alan: Oh. *chuckles* Of course. Yes, we dig up dinosaurs and most anything we find…

    Ian: Ever find any, ah, buried treasure?

    Alan: Hah! No. I don’t think there were many pirates sailing around Montana.

    Ian: But wasn’t much of ah, North America covered in water 100 million years ago?

    Alan:…Yes…But there weren’t any pirates back then…

    Ian: Ah, not even time traveling pirates? Uh? Uh?

    Hammond: You’ll have to excuse Dr. Ian Malcolm. He suffers from a deplorable excess of personality.

    Alan:…What exactly is it that you do again Dr. Malcolm?

    Ian: I, ah, thought you’d never ask. *Ian sips some Champaign through a light piano intro*

    (((CHAOTIC IAN)))

    Ian: In the fields of probability,
    There are outcomes only few can see.

    Ellie: And it’s your job to find ‘em?

    Ian: The future products of the random.

    Grant: But what does that really mean?

    Ian: That I calculate the unseen.

    Alan: Still, you’re kind of avoiding my query…

    Ian: Then allow me to elucidate my chaos theory…

    *a sweeping piano melody overtakes them all*

    When a butterfly flaps its wings
    A little north of Beijing
    The outcome is a little zephyr!

    And the dust carried in this breeze
    Will make one farmer’s yak sneeze!
    And the whole herd stampedes in terror!

    The resulting sound vibrations
    Affect weather conditions!
    And winds mature overseeeeeas!

    And the skies over Central Park
    Will grow gray and cloudy and dark!
    Thanks to the butterfly’s deeeeds!

    I hope that explains my mission!
    As your humble chaotician!
    For IIIIIIII’m Chaotic Ian!

    Donald: He’s no precog,
    He’s no clairvoyant!
    Though he’s sometimes an annoyance,
    He’s the best there is at what he does!

    Ian: Strange attractions?
    Non-linear equations?
    I’ve been wrong on some occasions.
    Though most often I can deduce effects and cause!

    Ellie: I fear I still don’t get it!

    Ian: Well let me take your arm and wet it!

    Ellie: With a little drop of water?

    Ian: The path it rolls down is altered,

    By tiny variations!

    Like your hair orientations!

    And minute imperfections in your smooth, smooth skin!

    Alan: *to Hammond* Just why did have to bring hiiiiiimmmmm???

    Donald: Caaaaause heeeeee’s the
    Contract binding
    Problem finding…

    Ellie: Scientist seen
    In Time Magazine…

    Ian: Premonition chaotician…

    All: CHAOTIIIIIIIC IAAAAAANNNNN!!!

    *song ends*

    Hammond: It’s all a bunch of Codswallop if you ask me.

    Malcolm: Who did ask you? And, ah, sPeaking of asking things, may I ask when we’re, ah, going to land?

    Hammond: *checks his watch* Any hour now.

    *jet comes to a screeching halt on the runway. Grant flies out of his seat and lands on Gennaro, knocking them both backwards*

    Ellie: Ooh! Alan! Honey! You should have buckled up!

    7/3/2003 10:59:10 PM

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