I swear to God, I just don't get it.
As a lowly Dryosaurus, I've never seen trees this tall in my entire life, yet the leaves of those very trees are what I'm supposed to eat. If it weren't for the massive size difference, I'd suspect my biological father was a Brachiosaurus.
And that's not even the most ridiculous part. The most ridiculous part is that everyone in this sector can kick my ass. The carnivores want to eat me, the herbivores want to trample me, and even those skinny-legged Gallimimus look like they could take me in a fight.
Since I can't reach the leaves I actually like, I'm stuck eating these damn shrubs and bushes. It's like my sole purpose in life is to convert scrubgrass into protein and fat just so someone else can come along and finish me off.
Lately, even taking a leak has become a struggle.
Don't get me wrong, I don't have prostatitis, and my bladder is perfectly healthy. It's just that every time I step out to do my business, this little prick is there, staring me down. Its eyes are better than a damn Brachiosaurus'; I can only ever see one side of a Brachi's face, but I can see both of this thing's eyes at once.
If it just wanted to watch me pee, I wouldn't mind so much. But it doesn't. Looking at its ugly mug, I just know it wants to tear my prostate out.
I've spent a lot of time contemplating the "urination issue." I figured I should just stay inside as much as possible; if I really have to go, I'll just go in the camp. But my herd-mates weren't having it. They said the smell would attract "nasty things" and told me to get lost and pee somewhere else.
What kind of "nasty thing" follows the scent of piss to find us? Honestly, that thing needs to go wash its nose and rethink its life choices. Picking a fight with a total loser like me, who gets bullied by every dino on the island? Talk about having a screw loose.
Eventually, I reached a conclusion: if I don't drink water, I won't have to pee as much. I put my theory into practice. Then I discovered something.
If I don't drink water, I'll freaking die.
Fine. Listen to that sound, the little brat is definitely out there now. I know I should run, but I don't dare. I'm already blind because the bastard spat in my eyes. If I stay still, it can't reach my neck, but if I run blindly into a tree, I'm dead for sure.
Why is my life such a steaming pile of garbage?
…
Meanwhile, a Dilophosaurus approached, staring up at the Dryosaurus, which was somehow taller than itself, trying to figure out how to kill the damn thing.
I swear to God, I just don't get it.
As a Dilophosaurus, I should at least be as tall as a Dryosaurus. Why am I the size of a golden retriever? Did my ancestors catch some kind of shrinking disease?
Being short wouldn't be so bad, my ancestors couldn't spit venom, but I can. What's ridiculous is that everyone in this sector can kick my ass. Stegosauruses can crush me, Ankylosauruses can flatten me, and even a pack of Compsognathus treats me like a drive-thru snack.
I finally found a "soft target," and I can't even finish the job.
And that's not even the most ridiculous part. The most ridiculous part is that I have a total "sad bee" for a pack leader. After realizing we're the bottom of the food chain in this area, the boss just wagged its big tail and said:
"Since that's the case, there's strength in numbers! Let's start breeding like crazy!"
God dammit. My ancestors really did catch something nasty. Our generation is completely screwed.
I wasn't ready to just give up, so I tried to nudge the boss's logic in a different direction. I asked: "But we don't have enough food. What happens if we have kids and there's nothing for them to eat?"
The boss took my advice to heart and immediately sent me out to find food. So, while everyone else has been busy "impacting" for the last few days, I'm the only one who hasn't seen any action.
God dammit. Why is my life such a steaming pile of garbage?
…
It's okay. Your lives might be garbage, but you have to remember: if God closes a door, He'll surely open a window.
Because that way, a thief can climb in and steal your stuff.
Ceratosaurus One was the "big thief" visiting today. He had been staking out the watering hole for a while, waiting for the right moment to strike a Dryosaurus. Ceratosaurus Two had told him that the one who drank the most water would be the first to go pee.
Ceratosaurus One didn't understand the physiological correlation between water intake and urinary frequency, but he trusted Ceratosaurus Two implicitly. When he arrived, he found a pleasant surprise: an idiot that wouldn't run away.
So, he just picked it up in his teeth and left.
Behind him, the Dilophosaurus started chirping profanities, but there was nothing it could do. A Ceratosaurus has a wider eye-span than a Dryosaurus; you can't blind them with one spit. Besides, if a fight broke out, the "unlucky one" would definitely be the Dilo.
Ceratosaurus Two was waiting at the designated ambush point, but she soon heard Ceratosaurus One's roar of victory.
He's actually capable today?
Curious, she hurried toward the sound and found the Dryosaurus carcass. Ceratosaurus One had taken a single bite but, for some reason, he had stopped and was waiting for her.
Ceratosaurus One looked up and let out a low growl. Ceratosaurus Two could sense a feeling of... revulsion. And it was directed at the carcass in front of him.
Why would he be disgusted by food?
Confused, Ceratosaurus Two tore a chunk of meat from the Dryosaurus.
Okay. Now she knew.
God dammit, why does this meat taste spoiled?
Ceratosaurus Two let out an equally repulsed growl. It wasn't that the Ceratosaur duo were picky eaters, but this meat had a certain "primordial viral beauty" to it the moment it hit the tongue. Unless there was a literal famine, they wouldn't touch a creature like this.
Herbivores that can't find the plants they like already get sick easily, let alone this "genius" who hadn't touched water in days. Viruses were probably standing in line for a chance to kill this thing. Calling the meat "unhealthy" was an understatement; it was basically pre-rotted.
In short: even a dog wouldn't eat it.
Feeling unlucky, the two Ceratosauruses stared at the body for a while before deciding they couldn't stomach it.
Let's go.
Ceratosaurus One gave a light grunt to Two and turned to leave. Ceratosaurus Two hesitated over the Dryosaurus for another moment before finally giving up and following Ceratosaurus One.
The "Little Poison Dog" (the Dilophosaurus) poked its small head out from a distant thicket. After confirming the duo had truly left, it sprinted to the carcass.
Looking at the almost "factory-new" Dryosaurus, the Dilo couldn't help but marvel:
What a waste.
But this was great news for him. Without hesitation, he tore off a large piece of meat and swallowed it down.
Holy crap...
This is delicious!
See! If God closes a door, He really does open a window!
Dryosaurus: I'm literally right here.
…
It's alright, Dryosaurus. You should know that while God didn't open anything for you, there is a dinosaur in this world for whom God never closed anything at all.
Like Carlo.
God didn't just give him a perfect body; He wasn't stingy with the wisdom, either. At least, that's what Carlo thought. If you don't believe it, take a look at Carlo's latest invention!
Ta-da!
The Automatic Fish Catcher!
Carlo had positioned himself into a semi-heart shape, lying in the lake with only his head resting on the bank, looking for all the world like he was just taking a bath.
In reality! This posture made it easy for fish to swim in but difficult to get out. Once they were inside, they weren't going anywhere.
Hehehe.
Wait? You're asking how this is "automatic"? If he has to move himself, isn't that "auto-moving"?
Ahem. To summarize Carlo's new invention:
Easy to enter, hard to leave. Requires manual movement. Involves a lot of water.
Wait... what was that last one?
Well, it's in a lake, so obviously there's a lot of water. Don't go getting any weird ideas. Now, say "Thank you, Great Inventor Carlo."
———
Note: In reality, Dilophosaurus was quite large, significantly taller than a human, and likely didn't have the ability to spit venom. The "Little Poison Dog" design in the Jurassic Park films is a tertiary creative liberty. The original novel featured them at a more accurate height while retaining the venom-spitting trait.
Want to read ahead of schedule? Head over here ——— pa-tre-on.c-om/AlexandrusTL [remove the hyphen for normal access]