What to Do With a Dinosaur

This morning a dinosaur1 tromped into school,
ferocious2, atrocious, and dripping with drool.
He had to be practically twenty feet tall,
and banged around looking something to maul.
He stomped3 and he snorted, he bellowed4 and roared.
His head hit the ceiling and busted5 a board.
That beast was undoubtedly6 ready for lunch.
He snatched up a chair in his teeth with a crunch7,
Then stopped for a moment and thoughtfully chewed;
it seems he had smelled cafeteria food.
He spit out the splinters and plowed8 down the hall,
his tail swinging wildly and smashing the wall.
He burst through the doors of the lunchroom to see
the lunch ladies clutching their hair nets to flee.
He found the lasagna and gobbled it up,
then lapped up the lemonade, cup after cup.
He ransacked9 the salad bar, plundered10 dessert,
then stiffened11 and yelped12 as if suddenly hurt.
He let out a howl as he clutched at his side,
then gave out a gasp13 and fell over and died.
So next time a dinosaur comes to your school,
I think you'd do well to remember this rule:
Get out of the way of his bad attitude
and make sure he eats cafeteria food.