In life, I pulled forth the guts of living beasts

from their scaled chests, as they breathed

the last of the life I had stolen, as if simple 

mammals, pitiable creatures whose meat 

wasted effort, strung tightly to their meager bones.

In death, I am mistaken for Dionysus, the wine

god! My bones themselves stand before you,

named another name – that of the lowly

Velociraptor, who gained in extinction the fear

that was mine in life.

And so, I drink. Yes, yes, I drink. A dino drinks!

Does that surprise you? Does it? You who thought

a VELOCIRAPTOR could turn a handle? You have

no right to speak of me. Indeed, I am glad.

Yes, I am glad, that you do not know my name. You do

not deserve to speak my name back onto this Earth,

which once I roamed. That you not let the my name

drip from your lips, as the blood of your ancestors

once dripped from those of creatures too small

and pitiable to feast as I did on creatures of worth.

You think what you wish. I don’t care. You think you’re

so great now and I’ll just sit here and drink, watching

you speak as if you’ll fare any better when

the next meteorite strikes Earth, knowing all the while

karma’s plan for you to have something rename your

kind in future millenia as “cats” because it sounds better

than “human.” Stupid mammals… You’re stupid. Yes.

Stu-pid. And I’m the Terrible Claw! You think you’re

worthy of my effort? You’re not. I wouldn’t even bother..

I wouldn’t even waste my time eating you. I wouldn’t.

I don’t know why I’m even wasting my time talking to you.

Shut up. Just leave me alone.

Mike Luketich wanted to be a paleontologist as a kid, but decided to become a lawyer instead. He made a mistake. He’s on Twitter @mikeluketich.