For this week's writing prompt, we're going simple: Space Dinosaurs. That's dinosaurs from space, dinosaurs in space, or dinosaurs with space-faring dreams. Get your fingers typing and come up with your best flash fiction tale of space dinosaurs.

We've had space dinosaurs on the brain for the last few months. When researchers weren't proposing the possibility of technologically advanced dinosaurs, we were listening to rock operas about dinosaurs enslaved by killer alien robots. Now it's time to come up with your own story about space dinosaurs, and we offer up this whimsical illustration by Logan Faerber, via Design You Trust.

As always, please post your story in the comments. Here's mine:

I folded my arms across my chest. "No," I told Connors. "Nuh-uh. Not happening."

Connors pried one of my hands free and stuffed the work order in my hand. I felt the paper crinkle in my fist, wishing it were stiff enough to cut into my palm. "You don't have a choice here," he said. "Brock passed zero-grav training and the brass want him up at Branson Orbital ASAP. That means he needs a suit."

"What good is a fucking longneck going to do them up on Branson?" I asked. "Are there lightbulbs up there no one else can reach?"

Connors frowned. "You better cool it with the L-word, Mar. We're going zero-tolerance."

"Let them fire me!" I pitched the order onto my desk. It bounced once on the spiderweb-reinforced rubber I was playing with for the next generation of Belt miners' uniforms, then came to a rest. I supposed that meant I had accepted the job. I sighed. "We never should have given them the uplift. If God had meant for dinosaurs to fly, he would have given them shorter fucking necks."

Connors reached out and tweaked my shoulder. "While you're at it, you better brush up on your robotic limbs. We've just enrolled a Tyrannosaur, and she's a goddamn genius. Be up in the air in fifteen months, tops."