I hate playing with dinosaurs.  Common sense would dictate that they would be excellent poker players, as they are incapable of facial expression.  I've deduced that when they lunge at you and eat your face, they're displeased, but I don't know if you could call that a facial expression per se.  It's like Wild West movies where everybody pulls out a six-shooter, except instead of a gun, it's a dinosaur, and instead of being shot, your face gets eaten.  However, I digress.  My original point was that dinosaurs should be good at poker, and yet this is simply not the case.  Take, for example, a game I held earlier this very evening.

We had just started and already things were not running smoothly.  The Tyrannosaur's forearms, while useful to countering the weight of his massive head and upper body, are as ineffective at shuffling a deck of cards as they are in battle.  The others didn't even have arms.  Having horns, spikes and armoured skin is swell and all, but it doesn't help you look at your cards.

It was Diplodocus's turn first, but of course he wasn't paying attention.  Instead, he was grazing leaves at treetop level using his long, elegant neck.  "Diplodocus," I said, "Please stop eating leaves and check."  He ignored me.  I persisted.  "Diplodocus please, we are trying to have a game here.  Check or fold."  He ignored me still and wandered off to another tree.  I took that to mean that he folded.

The Stegosaurus was next.  After careful deliberation, he bleated in annoyance.

"Stegosaurus, don't even start," I said.  "For one thing, you are from the Jurassic period, and it is silly that you are even here competing against Tyrannosaur and Ankylosaurus from the Cretaceous period.  Plus, the betting hasn't even started yet and already you are complaining.  If your hand is bad, then fold."  In response, Stegosaurus fended off a predator with the sharp thagomizers on the end of his flexible tail.  I took that to mean that he folded, too.

I looked at my hand and suppressed a smile.  I had a pair of aces.  "I check," I said.  "Ankylosaurus, it is your turn."

He roared at me.

"Ankylosaurus!" I cried.  "Just because your entire top side is heavily protected by dense armour plating does not mean I will condone such language at my poker table.  I must ask you to take your guttermouth elsewhere."

He sniffed and wandered off.  It was just me and Tyrannosaur now; I could only imagine what was going on in his broccoli-sized brain (which, while quite capable of processing visual information, was dedicated mostly to olfactory senses).  Tyrannosaur twitched his forearms.  I assumed that he meant to tap the table, but was having difficulty due to the fact that it was only about two or three feet high while he himself ranged between 15 to 20 feet tall.  His arms twitched again.

"Tyrannosaur, seeing as how you are having difficulties, might I deal the cards in your place?"

He jerked his head and I took it as a yes.  I dealt the first three cards:  a seven of clubs, a queen of spades, and a ten of spades.  I still had a great chance of winning.  The game progressed, and to my absolute luck, the next two cards were aces.  Four of a kind, with aces!  I couldn't believe it.

"Alright, Tyrannosaur," I said, smug that I would be victorious," let us see what cards you have."  I turned them over, and imagine my shock and appall at what I discovered next!

"Tyrannosaur!  Have you been cheating?"

He roared.

"Tyrannosaur, please do not lie to me.  First of all, the traditional way to play Texas Hold 'em is with two cards, not three.  Second of all, all three of these cards are aces, making for at least seven in this deck.  Finally, neither 'circle', 'squiggly mark', or what appears to be a crude rendering of a tricerotops are suits.  You have been playing me for a fool, Tyrannosaur.  What do you have to say for yourself?"

He said nothing; instead, he promptly ran away at speeds of up to 15 mph.  I sighed, as it seems like all our games end this way.

Perhaps I should start taking up games with the mammals, instead.