Helen's Goulash Sunday In Danger?

"Listen, Helen. I can't let you do that," he said, while removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt's cuffs. He put his suitcase against the wall. He had just returned from work. He was going to sit in front of a dinner that she made for him. It was a huge pile of meat of some description. He was hungry and, after all, he was a dinosaur.

"Why not, Terrence?" she asked, while putting on a pink tracksuit, ready to go out.

"Remember what happened last time you took 'em out for a walk?" he asked his wife, while examining his delicious meal.

"I remember, I do. It doesn't mean it will happen again!" she tried to convince her husband while plugging in the earphones into her iPod.

"What if it meets another one if its kind again? You want a war? You know how they are. Just killin' each other all the time. Gotta keep them in check," he reasoned while munching on a huge piece of thigh with a bone sticking out.

"Okay, Terrence, you're right. I just wanted them to get some workout before we invite Tawney and Richard for Sunday dinner. I want my goulash to be the best ever," she said, and looked at a dozen of humans sleeping in separate cages.