Truce with the Beast

Battles are done for the night, but business isn't. I dragged my beaten dinosaur opponent by its rubber tail all the way up the fleece couch throw. It took some heavy breathing and pulling, but I hauled it onto the highest corner cushion. Stuck a stubby yellow pencil under its open jaw like it was holding it for me. I leaned my back against its scaly ribs, watching the shadows stretch across the ceiling. We're running a truce until morning—and tomorrow, this lizard helps me locate my actual math sheets.