Tiny D went a littttttttttle overboard on Mardi Gras. We found him here, collapsed in our two-week-old king cake, on Wednesday morning. The guy could barely put two sentences together. We didn’t even ask about his multiple strings of beads. We don’t wanna know.

Tiny Dino, we told you not to venture out into the freezing post-blizzard misery. But did you listen? Oh no. And now you’re stuck — STUCK! — in the middle of Avenue A, with nary a scarf or hat in sight. Wasn’t the Ice Age how we got into this mess in the first place? Hellooooooooo, hypothermia. Goodbye, dinosaur. We thought you’d have learned your lesson by now.

There once was a collectible plastic dinosaur. His name was Tiny Dino.

Tiny Dino lived and worked at the offices of a social product development company called quirky. At first, he was a vital part of the team, a hard worker who responded to customer service queries in a friendly, timely fashion. His vivacious spirit touched everyone who came in contact with him, and his witty banter never failed to elicit a chuckle from the staff.

But then, Tiny Dino started losing his mojo. The temptations of Manhattan, with its bright lights and its long nights, became too much for him. He fell, and he fell hard.

In the coming weeks, we will be chronicling the adventures and misadventures that contributed to the demise of Tiny D. Stay tuned…