Oo-Pongo watches Challenger from the bushes, his jutting brow furrows as he remembers the statue of Him.  He hears something in the bushes behind him and turns to see Oo-Gonzo and a group of twenty Rock Tribesmen led by I-Pod approaching, brandishing clubs and spears, ready for battle.  

Oo-Pongo looks around for somewhere to hide, but he’s caught between the Warrior Women in front and the cavemen behind.  He becomes very agitated and finally gives out a little yelp and just drops to the ground, curling up into a fetal ball.  The Rock Tribe comes up the trail until they’re standing right over him.  Oo-Gonzo winces.

                                                (holding his nose)
                                    Eee-Eye Eee-Eye Oh.

A subtitle reads: “Careful, don’t step in that big stinky pile of dino-poop.”

The cavemen all walk around the curled-up, shit-covered Oo-Pongo.  They make their way to the city wall and sneak alongside it until they’re beside the Main Gate.  Several men jump forward and grab the Warrior Women guarding the entrance. The Rock Tribe warriors rush into the city, screaming and grabbing fleeing girls.    

Oo-Pongo gets up and sneaks over to the Main Gate.  He looks inside and sees the Rock Tribe pillaging and grabbing girls.  Oo-Pongo sees a grinning Rock Tribesman exit a building with Ta-Tas slung over his shoulder.  She screams and beats him on the back, but he doesn’t even notice.  Oo-Pongo turns and glances back up the trail and see the receding forms of Challenger’s group heading out of the valley.  He then looks back at the commotion inside the city.  Oo-Pongo doesn’t know what to do, his un-evolved brain is bursting.


As Oo-Pongo watches from the bushes, he sees Oo-Gonzo leading his men from the city with a long line of bound and gagged girls, among them are Her and Ta-Tas.  Oo-Pongo sneaks after them through the underbrush on the side of the trail.


Challenger leads the group through the primeval jungle, making his way back towards the submarine by moonlight.  Iris notices a single coconut hanging from a vine in a small clearing just off the trail ahead.  She walks over to it.

                                    Iris, don’t touch that.

                                    I’m thirsty, because someone got us
                                    kicked out of—

                                    —It’s a trap.

As Challenger speaks, Iris grabs the coconut and pulls it from the vine.  She is immediately enmeshed in a closing net that jerks her up into the air.
                                    What did I just tell you?

                                    Oh, quit with the “I-told-you-so’s” and
                                    get me down.

                                    Well, there might be back-up traps, we
                                    need to be very careful—

As he’s talking, Challenger steps across a trip-wire, and a rope snare cinches around his ankles and yanks him into the air upside down.

                                    You were saying?

                                    Von Schmutz, you’ll have to cut me
                                    down from the tree branch.

Von Schmutz is at the base of the tree, inspecting some mold growing on the north side of the tree.  He’s just giving it a lick and looks up.

                                    Of course.

As Von Schmutz takes a step, a spear flies down from the tree branches and sticks in the dirt at his feet.  Everyone looks up.  

A figure is silhouetted against the moonlit night sky.  It’s an OLD MAN, wearing animal furs, with long, tangled hair and a long white beard.  This is the same old man we saw earlier at the seashore.  The old man pounds his chest and throws his head back to emit the call of the wild.


                                                            OLD MAN
                                    Aarraugh-huk! Koff! Koff!

The old man is overcome by a coughing fit and falls from the tree.  He’s surprisingly spry for his looks, and he springs quickly to his feet, draws his knife and faces off with the German.  The Old Man steps back cautiously and eyes Iris, licking his lips at the sight of her.


                                    My God!  He’s a cannibal!  Get me

                                                            OLD MAN
                                    I am not a cannibal!  It was just the
                                    one time, and I threw up most of him

                                    You speak English?!

                                                            OLD MAN
                                    Used to speak French, too, but I’ve
                                    forgotten it over the years, because I
                                    only understand English, so now when
                                    I talk to myself in French I don’t know
                                    what I’m saying.

The old man walks over to Challenger, who is still hanging upside-down.  They examine
each other’s faces carefully, baffled by the resemblance.

                                                            OLD MAN
                                    You  remind me of someone, but I can’t
                                    think of who . . .

                                    It’s weird, it’s kind of like looking in a
                                    dirty old mirror.

The old man’s wrinkled old eyes light up as he points at his ear.

                                                            OLD MAN
                                    I’ve got a bump on my ear, too.  You
                                    think it’s cancerous?

Iris can’t believe it.  She points at the old man.

                                    It’s Him!  He’s the man that Her-Who-
                                    Lives-Forever is expecting!

                                                            OLD MAN
                                    Her-Who-Lives-Forever is expecting?
                                    Well, you can’t prove it’s mine!  I haven’t
                                    even seen that woman in hundreds of years,
                                    let alone . . .  Did she send you to bring
                                    me back?  I won’t go, I tells ya, I won’t!

                                    Relax, old man.  We’re no friends of Hers.  
                                    She kicked us out of the valley and we
                                    can’t go back.  Say, what’s your name,

                                                            OLD MAN
                                    My name is Lemuel Challenger, Jr.  You
                                    can just call me Junior, everyone does.

                                    Hey!  My name is Challenger, too.

                                    Well, that’s a helluva coincidence. And
                                    it’s not that common of a name, either,
                                    although it is a common adverb.

                                    You two must be related.

                                    What do you know about that.

                                    You know, if you get me down from here,
                                    we can help you get off this island.

Junior throws his knife at the rope tied to the tree branch, slicing it and sending
Challenger falling to the ground headfirst.


Oo-Pongo runs along through the underbrush following the line of Rock Tribesmen carrying their pillage of booty and bound and gagged girls, including Her and Ta-Tas, back to their cave.


Junior leads Challenger, Iris, and the Captain out of the jungle and into a small clearing.  Junior gestures towards an enormous tree ahead of them.

                                    Well, there it is, home sweet home.

                                    A tree?  You live in a tree?

                                    No, in the house in the tree, fool.  It’s
                                    camouflaged, of course.

Junior walks forward and steps into the vegetation behind the tree.  He steps back out holding a rope in one hand which leads up into the leaves behind him.  As he gets out into the clearing, an Apatosaurus steps out of the foliage behind Junior, the rope leash tied around his neck.  Junior uses a stick to tap the dinosaur on the knee.

                                    Open, sez me!

The Apatosaurus raises it’s head to the tree and takes a vine in it’s mouth.  It lowers it’s head and the vine acts to pull up a wall of leaves, revealing an elaborate tree house behind the false façade.  When the dinosaur rests it’s head on the ground, Junior takes the vine and stakes it to the ground.  He then steps up onto the top of the dino’s head.

                                    Well, what are you waiting for?  An

Challenger helps Iris onto the dino’s head, then steps up, followed by Von Schmutz. Junior taps the dino on the head with his stick.

                                    Ungawa!  Ungawa!

The Apatosaurus slowly raises his head, lifting the humans towards the tree house.  They are pushed into branches and almost thrown off when the dinosaur stops to munch some leaves.

                                    Sorry about that, it always stops at the
                                    second floor.  Ungawa, damn your eyes!

He smacks it with a stick.  The dinosaur continues lifting it’s head until it’s even with the balcony of the tree house, where Junior taps it again and steps off.  The others follow him onto the landing and into the house.


They enter Junior’s tree house and find it to be surprisingly complete.  There are chairs and small tables, shelving filled with jungle bric-a-brac, and in the corner is an archaeopteryx, a colorful dinosaur bird with a large wingspan, sitting on a perch.  Suddenly a small raptor darts in from the back room.  It stops in front of Challenger and begins barking at him.  Challenger pulls his pistol and takes aim.  Junior smacks Dick’s hand with his stick.

                                    Don’t shoot, that’s my guard dog.


                                                (giving the raptor a small bone)
                                    Well, guard-whatever, he’s a good little
                                    doggie, isn’t he?  Yes hims is.  Good

The raptor takes the bone and goes to the corner to chew it.

                                    Let me turn on the fan.

He goes over to the perched sleeping bird, lights a candle set in the lower bar of the perch, then activates a small weighted gear system which slowly rotates the candle at it’s base.  When the flame reaches the top of it’s rotation, it’s almost touching the Archaeopteryx’ ass, causing the bird to awaken, squawk and begin flapping it’s wings.  The candle slowly spins down, and the bird slows it’s flapping until the flame again gooses it to fan the room.

                                    There, that’s better. Please, sit down.
Let me get you something to drink.

Junior goes into the backroom as Iris takes a seat and they all admire the surroundings.

                                    The old man has done pretty well for
                                    himself, nein?

                                    Yeah, all the conveniences.

Junior comes back in with four half-coconut shell cups held in the fingers of one
hand, and a corked gourd in the other.  He gives a cup to each of his guests, uncorks
the gourd and begins filling their cups.

                                    This is so exciting, I haven’t had guests
                                    in over two hundred years!  You know,
                                    my dinosaurs all laughed at me when I
                                    made these extra cups for company, but
                                    their not laughing NOW, are they?!  Cheers!

The others all raise their glasses and take drinks.  Iris spits hers out, while Challenger
and Von Schmutz grimace but gulp it down like men.

                                    It’s fermented pterodactyl milk.  I de-
                                    veloped my own all natural fermentation

Junior points to a corner where a pelican has many coconuts stuffed in his lower beak. The bird is cross-eyed and wobbling on it’s feet.  Next to Iris’ chair is a flat tabletop mounted on the back of what appears to be a small stuffed anklyosaurus, a waist-high Armadillo-like creature.  She sets her cup down on the flat surface, but since the cup has no base, it rolls over and spills coconut milk.  Junior jumps to his feet.

                                    Coasters!  I forgot the coasters!  Where
                                    are my manners?

He quickly gets palm frond coasters.

Meanwhile, the spilled milk runs over the side of the table onto the anklyosaur, who wakes up and begins to slowly saunter away, giving Iris a start.  The dino-table walks right out the door.

                                    I’ve been meaning to tie that end table
                                    down, he leaves for days at a time.  But
                                    he always comes back, you wait and see.

Outside, we hear the anklyosaur scream and the sound of it crashing through branches, then a loud thud.

                                    Do you need napkins?  Let me just
                                    clean that mess up.

Junior opens a closet and pulls out a three foot long dinosaur that was hanging inside. The dinosaur has a flat lower lip-plate, almost like a dustpan.  Junior takes it over to the spill, where he holds it like a vacuum over the spilt milk.  A long tongue comes out and begins sweeping the spill into it’s mouth.  The fermented milk begins making it slightly dizzy.

                                    Excuse me, but did you say it was two
                                    hundred years since you’ve had company?  
                                    How old are you, exactly?

                                    I sorta lost track of exactly how old I am,
                                    but I was born in 1680 in a log cabin, just
                                    outside New Bedford, Massachusetts, back
                                    in the days when—


A log cabin sits in the thick woods.  Iris’s voice cuts in, stopping the dissolve halfway through.

                                    —I don’t think we need to start that
                                    far back.



We’re back in the tree house.  Junior shrugs.

                                    Oh, really?  All right then.  Where should
                                    I start?

                                    How about, when and how did you get

                                    Well, let’s see . . . that would’ve been in
                                    the year of Our Lord, 1714 . . .


New Bedford, Massachusetts is a tiny little pre-colonial hamlet on the Atlantic coast.  We can see the masts of schooners and fishing boats moored at the wharf. 


An old run-down grist mill sits on a stream running into the ocean.  Lemuel, who is now 34 years old, and wears the silly pageboy hairdo, is busily stitching large squares of colorful fabric together.

                                    I lived in an old grist mill, and I was the
                                    first man in the thirteen colonies to exper-
                                    iment with balloons.  I spent ten years
                                    working on my first balloon, which I
                                    called “Prototype Number One.”  It took
                                    me a year just to think the name up.  Ah,
                                    it was a lovely sight to behold . . .

Lemuel now has the balloon mostly inflated with hot air directed into the balloon from a wood fire.  It is indeed a very pretty, colorful balloon.

                                    . . . But, I didn’t have all the bugs worked
                                    out right away . . .

When the balloon has enough hot air inflating it, a gust of wind lifts it up and takes it away, right out of Lemuel’s hands.  Lemuel and several of his neighbors just stand there and watch the balloon float off into oblivion over the Atlantic Ocean.


Lemuel sips his drink.  He goes to set it on a dinosaur table, but his table has also crawled away.

                                    You’ll never guess what I called my next

                                                (cutting in)
                                    —Let’s see, “Prototype Number Two”?

                                    Yeah, how did you know?

                                    I hate to remind everyone that there’s
                                    a nearby volcano that’s about to erupt.

                                    Let him tell his story, otherwise we’ll
                                    be here all day.

                                    You kids these days, no patience at all.
                                    Okay, now where was I—

Iris waves two fingers at him.

                                    —Prototype Number Two.

                                    Only Number Two, huh?

Iris is starting to panic.


                                    For God’s sake, how many prototypes
                                    were there?

                                    Hundreds, actually.

                                    Well, which one got you here?

                                    I believe it was Prototype Number Seven,
                                    if I’m not mistaken.

                                    Then let’s just skip right to that one,
                                    shall we?
Lemuel strokes his long beard.

                                    Ah, Prototype Number Eleven—

                                                (cuts in)
                                    —You said it was seven.

                                    No I didn’t.

Challenger grabs Iris’s arm.

                                    Will you let him tell this story.  What’s
                                    wrong with you?

Iris crosses her arms and sighs.

                                    Fine.  Go ahead.

                                    All right then, so the whole town came
                                    out to watch . . .


Lemuel has another colorful balloon nearly inflated.  Ten or twelve people stand around impatiently watching.  This time he sits in a chair in a woven basket affixed below the balloon.  Suddenly, the balloon lifts off, taking Lemuel with it.  He waves to the people, and they wave back.

                                    I must say, it all went beautifully.  I
                                    rose higher and higher into the air. 
                                    Soon, the people were as small as ants,
                                    the whole town shrunk to the size of a
                                    toy, then I arose into the clouds and
                                    lost sight of everything.  This is when
                                    it struck me, I had devised no method
                                    for coming down.  In fact, in my excite-
                                    ment to show everyone my balloon, I
                                    had failed to take anything with me—
                                    no food, no water, no books, only this—
            (he holds up a wooden chair)
                                    —this chair.  I’ve kept it for all of these
                                    years.  It’s the only remaining artifact
                                    from my old life.

Challenger sits in the chair and it immediately collapses, breaking into kindling.  Challenger jumps to his feet.

                                    Whoops!  Sorry about that.  So, you
                                    were saying . . .

                                    Well, anyway, so I’m up in my beautiful
                                    balloon, rising higher and higher.  Suddenly,
                                    a big gust of wind caught me and blew me
                                    southward.  I don’t know how long I floated
                                    south—days, weeks, maybe a month.

                                    With no water you would have died of
                                    thirst in less than a week.

                                    I drank rain water.

                                    What did you collect it in?

                                    Will you let me tell this.

                                                (waves her hand)
                                    Sorry, go ahead.

                                    Anyway, the next thing I knew I was
                                    coming down in the ocean, only at the
                                    last possible moment an island appeared
                                    out of nowhere—this island—and so I
                                    landed here, in this land that time forgot.

                                    Which is near the Earth’s core, right?

                                    No, I don’t think so.  So, I wandered
                                    around for weeks, eating grubs and roots
                                    and hiding from predators.  Then, one
                                    day I was bathing in a waterfall when I
                                    was abducted by several very strong women,
                                    who dragged me before Her-Who-Lives-
                                    Forever, a crazy woman who lives in the
                                    lost valley.

                                    We’ve met her.

                                    Then you know.  She’s mad!

                                    She was upset, I’ll tell you that.

                                    She’s certainly a good-lookin’ gal, but
                                    that personality needs some work.

                                    If she’s been alive forever and still hasn’t
                                    worked out her personality issues, I’d say
                                    she never will.

                                    So, Her said that two hundred years ago
                                    you went out for a pack of cigarettes and
                                    never came back.

                                    Pretty good, huh?  But she had already
                                    gotten me to drink from the Fountain
                                    of Forever, so here I am, two hundred
                                    years later, living with my little babies . . .
                                                (he looks at his “doggy”)
                                    . . . Whom I love very much.  Don’t I?
                                    Yes I do.  But, listen to me, prattling
                                    on like a schoolgirl.  Well, I guess that’s
                                    to be expected, having no one to talk to
                                    for so long except my pets. It’s not easy
                                    carrying on an intelligent conversation
                                    with a creature whose brain is no larger
                                    than a pea.  I mean, I’ve tried, Lord knows
                                    I’ve tried.

The vacuum dinosaur, still lapping at the milk, begins dropping small turd pellets
on the floor.

                                    Oopsy-daisy.  I’ve got a hand-held one
                                    for this type of mess.

Going back to the closet, he hangs the vacuum-a-saur back up, then opens a small cupboard above it.  Inside is a nasty looking, evil smelling little reptile.  Junior takes it over to the soiled carpet and puts it’s face over the pellets.  The small dinosaur begins eating the turds, then looks up, shrugs and squawks.  A subtitle reads, “It’s a living.”

The little pet raptor, Lassie, sits in front of Dick Challenger wagging it’s tail on the floor. Von Schmutz is pouring himself another cup of fermented pterodactyl milk.

                                    Gott und himmel, this is good stuff!

Challenger reaches down and hesitantly pets Lassie the dino on the head.  The little raptor immediately jumps onto Dick’s leg and begins humping it vigorously.  Challenger is mortified.

                                    Hey, uh, Junior, a little help here. Your
                                    “doggy” is trying to mate with my leg.

                                    Oh, don’t mind him, he’ll be done in a
                                    few seconds.  I’ve got another dinosaur
                                    that’ll clean up that mess.

Challenger stands and tries to shake the animal from his leg.  He gets it off his leg and it growls at him with razor sharp teeth.

                                    Well look, this is very homey and all, but
                                    the volcano’s about to blow and we’ve
                                    got to get back to our ship.

                                    You have a ship?  But there is nowhere
                                    to dock, the island is surrounded by sheer
                                    cliff walls all around.

                                    It’s a submarine.

                                    No, it’s an island.

                                                (slightly drunk)
                                    The vessel is a submarine.

                                    The trestle is a sun machine?  What the
                                    hell does that mean?  You kids with your
                                    slang words.

                                    A submarine . . . oh, never mind. Look,
                                    we’ve got a way off this island, are you
                                    coming or not?

                                    Coming?  You mean going?  And leave all
                                    my jungle friends?  Whom I’ve loved so
                                    dearly for so long?


                                    Well, I . . .  HOT DAMN!  I’m going
                                    home!  Yee-hah!  Give me two seconds to
                                    pack my things.
The Junior goes over to a shelf and takes two brass buttons down and puts them in his loincloth, and takes the small dino-vac, too.

                                    All righty, let’s go.

Iris points at the little hand-held dinosaur.

                                    What’s that for?

                                    Oh, you know, spills, crumbs, small
                                    messes, that sort of thing.

They all leave the tree house.

A path winds off into the steamy jungle.  Suddenly, the two fakest, phoniest, cheapest Tyrannosaurus Rexes walk up the path, and seem to be fighting with each other.  Next come two more fake Rexes that are slapping each other, then a line of Rock Tribe people wearing masks, which is when we realize that the cheap dinosaurs are really crude outfits.


There is a thin winding path through the jungle leading to the volcano, then around the base of the hill and up to the rim.  A long procession of Rock Tribe cavemen make their way up the path toward the angry, spewing volcano.  They have a whole line of pretty girls from the lost valley bound and gagged, among them is Ta-Tas.


Oo-Pongo stands on a nearby cliff-top watching the procession snake past below him as they approach the volcano.  He rubs his chin and dances around in worried confusion.


In the Rock Tribe’s procession they have Her gagged and tied to a pole on the back of one of the square-wheeled wagons which they’re having the usual difficulty hauling up the mountain.   


Oo-Pongo sees Ta-Tas and begins jumping up and down in anguish


Meanwhile, the procession continues onward toward the volcano with Her squirming on  the back of the cart, as well as the line of girls with Ta-Tas. 

There is a set of stairs made of bamboo and twine that’s a million steps long that encircles the mountain and leads up to the rim of the volcano.  Rock people in dinosaur outfits line the stairs.


Challenger, Iris, Von Schmutz and Junior all return to the base camp.  The German sailors are busily boiling down dinosaur blubber into oil.  The all wear face masks because it stinks so bad.

                                    The processing, it goes well, ja?

The Lieutenant turns around and his face is also covered with a rag.

                                    Dinosaur blubber stinks, let me tell you
                                    that!  I sure wish we were making beer.

                                    Have we got enough fuel to leave?

                                    Nearly.  But I’ll never get the smell out
                                    of this uniform, and it’s my favorite.


Oo-Pongo watches the procession of Rock Tribesmen leading Her and Ta-Tas and the other girls up the trail towards the mouth of the volcano.  Oo-Pongo looks around in agitation, he doesn’t know what to do.  He’s wringing his hands and dancing from one foot to the other.  Suddenly, part of the outcropping gives way, and he falls over the side of the cliff. 

He bounces off the rock wall a couple of times, before jolting to a sudden stop, his legs astride the neck of a pterodactyl perched on the cliff face. The force of Oo-Pongo landing on it’s back causes the creature to pitch forward, emitting a loud “Skronk.”  The bird-like reptile flaps it’s wings furiously, trying to gain control of it’s fall.  Oo-Pongo throws his arms around the creature’s neck, holding on for dear life. 


The pterodactyl is starting to gain control, but now Oo-Pongo’s tight grip is suffocating it, and the flying reptile begins to pass out and goes into a free-fall.  Oo-Pongo sees it’s eyes closing and loosens his hold.  The monkey-man slaps at the pterodactyls face gently and it opens it’s eyes and regains control of it’s flight.  Oo-Pongo is terrified as they fly low over treetops.  Slowly though, Oo-Pongo begins to enjoy his first taste of flight. 

He looks down at the jungle below, a smile slowly spreading across his face.  He extends one hand, then the other, waving them in the rushing wind.  He let’s his mind wander and begins to imagine the possibilities, as two sticks appear over his head and rub together igniting a flame . . .


Oo-Pongo rides a saddled pterodactyl, a rope bridle over it’s beak, with the reins running back to Oo-Pongo.  He holds them nonchalantly in his right hand; with his left hand, he waves to a crowd of cave-people on the ground, watching him in awe and wonder.  The crowd “oohs” and “ahhs” as he steers the pterodactyl around in a figure eight.  Then he does a loop-de-loop and the crowd goes wild.


Back in reality, Oo-Pongo smiles at the thought, and continues to imagine . . .


Oo-Pongo stands on a cliff-top with his saddled Ptero in front of a sign that says in hieroglyphics—there is a crude drawing of a pterodactyl with a guy riding it, an equals sign, then a drawing of one banana.

He takes a banana from a waiting caveman and puts it on a growing pile, as the caveman mounts the dino-bird which takes off with him on it’s back and goes flying off into the sky.

A second pterodactyl and passenger lands behind Oo-Pongo, who takes a banana from the next person in line, but then he suddenly looks suspicious and stops the guy.  Oo-Pongo makes the caveman raise his arms while he waves a stick around him.  Oo-Pongo makes the caveman take off his fur boots, which blend with the fur of his legs.  The caveman removes his fur boots and shakes them showing nothing is hidden within.  Oo-Pongo nods and waves him on to his flight . . .


Oo-Pongo shakes his head and pops out of his daydream.  In the near distance, he sees the light of Challenger’s campfire, beside the lake and the docked submarine.  He points the pterodactyl’s head in that direction, and it begins flying toward the firelight.


Challenger, Iris and several members of the crew are gathered around the campfire, drinking coffee.  Other crewmembers load supplies onto the sub, while others pour dinosaur blubber oil into the submarine’s gas tank.  Iris looks excited.

                                    Once we’re back, we can organize a
                                    return expedition.  We can get the top
                                    paleontologists and botanists.

                                    Yeah, we’ll want to bring bigger guns,
                                    too.  Maybe a Howitzer or a Big Bertha.

                                    Challenger, this island is the greatest
                                    discovery of modern science. These
                                    creatures were thought to be lost from
                                    the face of the earth eons ago. I won’t
                                    allow you to hunt them to extinction

                                    Who’s talking about extinctifying them? 
                                    I just want one head of each, for my Trophy
                                    Room.  Jeez throw a hairy fit, why don’t

There is a commotion among the crew. The Lieutenant points up into the sky.

                                    Look, up in the sky!

The Pterodactyl flies towards the camp.  One of the SAILORS says . . .

                                                            SAILOR # 1
                                    It’s a bird.

The pilot on the reptiles back becomes visible.

                                    It’s an auto-gyro!

Oo-Pongo is waving his arms at them as the pterodactyl flies lower.

                                    No, it’s a monkey-man riding a pterodactyl!


Oo-Pongo hangs on as the pterodactyl swoops low over the campsite.  Sailors run for cover.  As the flying dinosaur heads toward the lake, Oo-Pongo slides from it’s back, diving toward the water.


Challenger and the others rush over, as Oo-Pongo misses the water and splats on the shore.  He gets up groggily and falls backwards into the water.  The water revives him, and he pulls himself up onto shore.  The crowd surrounds him as he stands up and shakes the water off himself like a dog.  The crowd backs away as they’re splattered with water.

Oo-Pongo is speaking rapidly, waving his arms around and trying to communicate with the others.

                                    Hey na, hey na! Shama lama ding dong!
                                    Papa Oo Mau Mau, Chaka Kahn Chaka

                                    What the heck is he talking about?

                                    I’m afraid I don’t speak this dialect of

Oo-Pongo grabs a stick and begins scratching images in the dirt.

                                    He’s trying to show us with pictures.

Oo-Pongo scratches a triangular shape in the ground.

                                    Is it a hat?  You want a pointy hat?

Oo-Pongo shakes his head in frustration.  He drags the stick across the top point of the triangle, and then scratches lines shooting out from it.  He points off in the direction of the volcano.

                                    It’s the volcano, he’s saying the volcano
                                    is going to blow.

                                    Well, you don’t have to be a Neanderthal
                                    to figure that out.  Okay, now it’s my turn.

Challenger takes the stick from Oo-pongo and begins scratching out a picture.

                                    It’s bigger than a bread box, but smaller
                                    than a brontosaurus.

He is drawing what looks like a palm tree, when Iris grabs the stick away.

                                    Challenger, stop being so childish.

Challenger grabs the stick back.

                                    No, you stop being so childish!

                                    I think he’s trying to tell us something


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