One Day At The Races: The Brontosaurus One Hundred Yard Dash

by Lew Sethics

62 million years, 170 days, 12 hours, 4.53 minutes ago:  River of Sand, Doomed Mesa:

The roar from the bleachers was drowned out by the stampeding thunder of the “Brontosaurus One Hundred Yard Dash”, a mad rush of about a half a mile, open to any runner over twenty tonnes or so.  Tiny heads could be seen bobbing in and out of the dust cloud that threatened to engulf the entire track and field event, spectators included.  The dust was choking to the breath and stinging to the eyes, making the outcome of the race unusually chancy, as the CameraSaurus at the finish line had allergies galore and wasn’t even facing the runners.

Then all of a sudden, out from the hundred foot wall of dust popped the head of PatO’Saurus, wearing a hat that looked like Fred Flintstone, leaving the heaving mass of Sauropods behind him in a burst of speed and sweat that thrilled the roundly inebriated onlookers.

PatO’Saurus thrust his neck to its full length in an attempt to break the tape at the finish line, eyes focused on the goal, grim determination written on his face (courtesy of DINOTATS! Where Tats are half price during the Impending Extinction Special!), and angry steam compressed in massive pumping lungs vented through vocal chords, then through caverns and chambers in the huge head and out of a gigantic speaker-like mouth to sound his victory song, like a giant contra-bass calliope from hell.

The excitement was threatening to explode into mass extinction, which was the name of the band gyrating insanely on a stage just out of reach.   

Suddenly time snapped, and in the slowness of it all you could see the rhythm of the interconnections: this went down-that goes up, this is bright and quiet, this one dark and loud, again and again.  The bobbing heads of the racers slowly drooling, spilled wine drops slowly flying against a backdrop of fiendish grins and greedy cheering.

Through this bedlam could be heard the call of PatO’Saurus, coming down the home stretch, victory assured, half a neck ahead of second place, who was starting to run out of gas.  A study of the racers’ faces would find emotions flickering between desperation and hope.  The finish line was so close, yet so far.