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They could hear idle chatter from one room over. Chomp, Paris, and Ace peeked their heads from around the corner, just barely enough so that they could see. Not like they would be able to understand a word, let alone reasonably comprehend what was going on. Nonetheless, their curiosity was piqued by the familiar voices of their discussing companions.
“Max, are you sure that we can leave them alone for that long?”
“Come on, Zoe. They really are just…strange dogs. They’ll be fine on their own for a little while. Right, Rex?”
“I don’t know. It should only be a quick trip in theory, but I still worry about them being unsupervised for too long.”
“Exactly! At least someone has some common sense around here, Max!”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean!?”
To the three of these so-called “strange dogs,” the majority of their spoken words were comprised of incomprehensible nonsense. They were dinosaurs built for battle, thus, they only understood a few commands in regards to combat. A few words in regards to casual greetings and partings were also included amongst their limited comprehension of the human tongue. As a result of their lacking understanding, their curiosity of the world, especially in such small forms, often got the better of them.
Paris, Chomp, and Ace knew better than to attempt to remain inconspicuous and eavesdrop, regardless of the level of their comprehension. The three of them called back their plans to spy, and continued as if not a thing caught their eye.
“We’ll be back soon! Try not to cause any problems for us!” Zoe said, waving.
“And if you do, I’ll make Rex clean it up!” Max said, running out the door.
“Hey! I wasn’t the one who suggested we leave them alone!” Rex said, running after Max and closing the door behind him.
They had only understood maybe, two or three words total from those few sentences? Gathering clues from their gestures and the environment, the trio of dinosaurs concluded that Max, Rex, and Zoe have departed for the great outdoors. Naturally, Chomp wanted to follow in the shadow of Max, free from the restraints of the house walls. He headbutted the door with his three dull horns in an attempt to nudge it open, but in his considerably small form, it would hardly budge.
Seeing that his efforts were proving fruitless, Ace stepped in to take charge. He jumped up in an attempt to grab ahold of the doorknob, but his teeth were unsuitable for gripping such a rounded, shiny surface. In frustration, Ace wiggled his two tiny claws upwards, creating a laughable, pathetic display of desperation. Angrily, he stomped his feet, which made far less of an impact than he was probably hoping for. He mustered all of his strength into his vocal cords for a roar, which was more comparable to a baby’s cry at his current scale.
Paris was probably the only reasonable one out of the three. A rather feeble attempt to reason with them was made, but her quiet chirps were only so effective against two rowdy loudmouths. In addition to this, a Parasaurolophus of her current size faired rather poorly in combat against a Triceratops like Chomp and a Carnotaurus like Ace. Regardless of what direction she could attempt to take, acting as a meditator would not to prove very effective. The tantrums of Chomp and Ace could only be quelled by the stubbornness of the immovable door.
For a short while, the three of them simply stood there and stared at the door, hoping that their masters would magically return if they hoped hard enough. That strategy, however, was not proving to be very effective. Pathetic whimpers and growls had now power against the divine force of the passage of time.
The apparent dire situation aside, there was one redeeming factor that they had failed to consider until now. The three little dinos had the entire house to themselves. And just like dogs left unsupervised, there were plenty of opportunities for them to stick their noses into places that they shouldn’t be.
Upon this realization, the first to abandon the mission of the closed door was Chomp. After enough whimpering and headbutting, he eventually concluded that perhaps it was not worth his energy. The time he spent growling and pawing (clawing?) at the door was better used in exploring uncharted territory within the establishment.
Paris and Ace watched as he walked away contemplative, wondering what ideas could possibly be stirring in that peanut-sized brain of his. Was he planning to formulate an escape route to rejoin Max, Zoe, and Rex in the great beyond? Or perhaps his plan of attack was a bit more unconventional? Curious, the two of them followed Chomp, also forfeiting their quest to open the door.
Chomp started to shove his nose into every corner of the house that his three little horns would allow for him to. Under the couch, in between books on the bookcase, in the house plants, and so on. Such nosiness wasn’t something unusual for him; only this time, nobody was around to stop him. With all trace of human life in the house long gone, more opportunities for them opened up. New activities, new possibilities, forbidden territory, the list goes on.
And this list included the refrigerator.
Now, the main problem that was posed for the three of these creatures was their lack of opposable thumbs. Paris and Ace had somewhat of an advantage, being bipedal even if their claws were a little small. However, the handle was up there, and the three of them were down here.
Paris wasn’t exactly supportive of the idea of a fridge raid anyways, taking after her master acting as the more rational member of the group. As always, she was outnumbered two to one, and Chomp and Ace were determined to figure out how to open the fridge door one way or another. Brute force, crafty tactics, it didn’t matter. They needed to secure themselves the holy grail of endless food.
He maneuvered his horns in between and under the fridge door in an attempt to try and catch the edge and nudge it open. After a bit of shoving his head around and his claws sliding on the floor, he finally caught his horns like planned and flung the door open. What was once a sealed vault moments ago was now a portal of endless opportunity. The white light blessing their eyes was as close as a hungry dinosaur would ever come to reaching heaven. All of the food they could want… as much as they could possibly as for… it felt like a sweet dreame turned miraculous reality.
Upon further inspection, dreams of an endless feast were quickly crushed by hard reality. Chomp realized that he wasn’t exactly interested in what was currently presented to him. He was expecting a bottomless supply of hearty greens and the like, as here was where his Max would always retrieve him food without fail. Much to his disappointment, all he could see was a small bundle of fruits and vegetables in the bottom drawer.
So, the supply of food was finite? Even Paris couldn’t help but be disappointed, despite distancing herself from their conspiring. Not the infinite supply she was expecting (secretly hoping) to see.
And Ace, in the midst of their flabbergasted disappointment, wasn’t going to take such a letdown for an answer. He pushed his way into the fridge, and using Chomp’s frill as a rather painful stepping stool, attempt to reach the top shelf to pull down some meat for himself. Short, stubby hands and a rather thick head were not an ideal combination, especially for shelves specifically crafted for long and thin human arms to reach into. When shoving his jaw in between the shelves didn’t work, he attempted to find his footing and climb up even further. Before he could ascend a singular level of shelves, Ace completely lost his footing and came tumbling down on Chomp, barely avoiding impaling himself on his spikes.
An unreachable lost cause. He didn’t even bother hiding the jealousy he harbored towards Paris and Chomp’s “endless” food supply was within reach in the fridge drawers. Ace herded them away and slammed the refrigerator door shut with one fell swoop of his tail. Despite the failure of the fridge expedition, losing this battle did not mean they lost the entire war. Plenty other curiosities awaited them within the kitchen alone.
Investigating the shelves and upper cabinets was completely off the table. Once again, it was because they were short. And not well equipped for climbing.
What about the other appliances? Same issues persisted. It seemed as if every aspect of their little bodies provided some sort of annoying inconvenience preventing them from actually exploring and using their alone time to their advantage. Perhaps time was better spent elsewhere, or at least on activities more worthwhile than raiding the refrigerator or eyeing up unreachable cabinets. The living room harbored a reliving feel of familiarity compared to the undaunted and unreachable hidden horrors and disappointments of the kitchen.
Usually, they were reduced to seeing such sights from a floor level. With nobody around to tell them off, the couch was theirs for the taking. It was fairly easy for Chomp and Paris to use their back legs and propel themselves upwards, but Ace struggled to climb with his short arms and lack of balance. It was quite the sight to watch a small dinosaur struggle to lift itself up, but after a few snorts of laughter, Chomp leaned down to catch Ace with his horns and pull him up.
In front of them stood a mysterious square-shaped box, with nothing but a mirrored reflection visible where a “moving picture” would typically be. The question was, just how do they force these pictures to manifest before them? There had to be some way to make the box produce these sounds and effects, but the three of them were clueless as to how.
A small rectangular object was laying on the couch pointing in the direction of the box. Paris gestured towards it, recalling Zoe holding the gadget and somehow working it to control the contents shown within the box. How this witchcraft worked, they couldn’t even begin to fathom. Even if they did have the knowledge to work it, short claws and stubby legs were no use in operating man-made devices.
Despite the low probability of any success, Chomp reached out and curiously tapped a few of the colorful bumps on the object. With his prodding, he discovered that these bumps were actually pressable, leaving him to believe that they were buttons of some sort. Surely, with enough trial and error, one of them would eventually have to work.
Ace stepped in to take a shot at working the box, but his body was too disproportioned to be able to properly handle such objects. He leaned down and frantically wiggled his little arms around, but only succeeded in falling face first into the sofa.
Disregarding the struggling Ace as if he were an unloved brother, Paris moved in next to try to work the mysterious gadget herself. With longer arms at her disposal, she had a far better shot at working it compared to Ace, but before she could push down a singular button, Chomp had shoved her aside. He began stomping on every button with far too much enthusiasm, much to the utter bewilderment of the others. A horrible idea, given how the stomp of a clawed beast, no matter the size, packed a ton of might. Whether this was truly done intentionally or accidentally, Chomp had busted the key to the box’s operations beyond usage.
Which meant that the mystery of the screen that somehow projected moving pictures would remain unsolved.
If Paris did not have an ounce of decency remaining in her soul, she would not have hesitated to send the other two flying off of the couch with a swoop of her tail. Alas, the last thing she wanted to do was cause further destruction in the house by sending their hefty bodies tumbling through the table.
Never mind the now useless mechanical box. Ace was still struggling snout-first in the couch. Chomp tipped him off balance to the side, likely intending it as a gesture kindness to free him from his humiliating position. Though Ace may have been freed, he was also toppled onto the ground as a result. When he flung himself back onto his legs, he rudely snapped his jaw at Chomp, but he aggressively raised his horns in return.
Forget those two maniacs. Paris had reached the point of wanting nothing more than to rest her little body. Not much to do to pass the time when your legs are stubby and your fangs are flat.
But Ace and Chomp were like hyperactive dogs. They wanted something to do and they were determined to find it, whatever it may be. Expending their energy by running around in circles? Nah, that was too boring and too plain considering the limits (or lack thereof) of the freedom they had. A little bit of friendly roughhousing? They get summoned for battle enough times as it was. How was it that they had an entire house open to them, yet they couldn’t figure out anything to do?
They couldn’t even participate in what their companions did on the norm. Anything and everything was suitable only for two-legged creatures… with hands meant for such things.
But what was within their reach was the rather chewable looking legs of the furniture. Close to the ground, did not require a human hand to pry open, inconspicuous enough to not immediately be noticed…
And they did have free reign of the place…
As if they were telepathically communicating, Chomp, Ace, and Paris went silent and looked at each other.
If a smile could be formed on their face, the two troublemakers would be grinning from ear to ear once the realization hit. In a split-second, Chomp and Ace took off and began gnawing away at the furniture. The taste wasn’t exactly pleasant, as Chomp kept spitting out stray threads and Ace felt as if the texture couldn’t compare to that of fresh meat. Nevertheless, they continued chomping and gnawing away. Paris chirped for them to stop, but neither of them cared given that they had, at long last, found a worthwhile way of utilizing their brief moment of freedom.
She was almost half-tempted to join in on the "fun" herself, but she refrained. She briefly attempted acts of mass destruction for herself by chewing on the couch cushions a little, but her flat little teeth were getting her nowhere. Meanwhile, Chomp was wearing down whatever he could get his little mouth around and Ace was living up to his name as an ace of house wreckage.
Quickly deciding to throw in the towel, Paris freed her teeth of the couch strings and instead calmly curled up for the time being. As the other two handfuls went about their pint-sized rampage, Paris opted to look away and act completely uninvolved with the other two. As if that would make her any less guilty, given her brief cooperation in heists prior.
In the midst of their terror, the knob of the front door began to shuffle.