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.