Story by Nicholas Driscoll.
Art by Sam Messerly.
I thought about what to do all week. For me, the old lizard was a really big mystery—a mystery that a lot of people just seemed to accept and celebrate. Of course I didn’t understand how a tyrannosaur could still be alive today. I wondered why he could talk. I wondered why he didn’t have sharp teeth, why he was eating plants, and why he didn’t just eat everything that moved instead. But most of all I wondered why he wanted to live in my garage. Maybe it’s because the question was about my stuff. It’s hard to give up things that you paid good money for. Especially when you can’t even figure out a good reason for the sacrifice.
I wandered out back to the hole where the tyrannosaurus had apparently slept for many years. It had already become a tourist spot, and a fence had been erected around the area. There were some tourists taking pictures of just about every dirt clod in sight. I simply stood, staring at the hole, trying to imagine what it would be like to sleep in a dark cave for hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of years.
I thought the old lizard must have had a really bad crick in his neck when he woke up.
I thought about the tyrannosaur footprints we found around this area as well. There were a few in scattered places, and some were not particularly hidden. I wondered how no one had found them before. Maybe there could be more underneath my house or garage, like where I was living literally was his old stomping grounds. There was a crawlspace that led underneath the garage, so it might be worth checking out. I got down in the dirt and crawled inside.
I don’t know what I expected to find. Mostly I just founddirt, spider webs, and a few snakes. The dirt was too loose to have fossilized dinosaur footprints in it—of course. But that didn’t mean that the old lizard didn’t used to walk around right where my garage was now.
I found a few unusual rocks underneath the garage that seemed somehow… organically shaped in some way. I decided to take them out with me. I didn’t want to come away empty-handed from crawling around in the dirt for a good thirty minutes, even if all I came out with were a few ugly rocks.
As I stood up and dusted myself off, I saw Charlie standing a few feet away.
“Oh, there you are,” Charlie said. “I was looking for you. Man, am I glad that dinosaur isn’t here. Anyway, I was just wondering if I could borrow your truck for a week.”
“A week?” I said.
“Yeah,” Charlie said. “I figure it’s better if I ask you to borrow it for a week rather than come over and ask every evening, haha.”
“Haha,” I said.
I didn’t laugh. I just said, “haha.”
“So what do you say?” asked Charlie.
I don’t know why, but I said, “Okay, Charlie. You can borrow my truck.”
Why on earth did I always let him borrow my stuff?
“Thanks, my man,” said Charlie. “Again, really glad I caught you when that t-rex wasn’t around. That guy scares me to death. If he was here all the time, I don’t think I could ever come over. So, uh, can I have the keys?”
I didn’t reply, but I did smile as I handed over the keychain.
I had finally made my decision.