Mammoth by Chris Flynn

Author:Chris Flynn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of Queensland Press
Published: 2020-04-08T01:23:33+00:00

My first months in Ireland were informative, if a little boring. Much like this account, you may say, T. bataar.

Who, me? I would never.

Was there a mutiny on the ship, M? Were Moses and Rembrandt pitched overboard?

I was shanghaied long before that, Palaeo. While Miss O’Neill kept Moses occupied for the night, her confederates skulked into the warehouse and loaded me onto their own wagons. I am sure the alarm was raised the next morning, by which time Caoimhe had taken her permanent leave of the naïve and bitterly disappointed Moses Williams. It must have been confusing for the American boys. Who would steal an entire mammoth skeleton? And why?

They would have worked it out, eventually.

Doubtless. By which time I was already on a boat bound for Dublin.

Not exactly an easy treasure to hide, M.

Indeed, no. You spent your resurrected life in the bars of Boston. You must be familiar with the alcoholic beverage the hominids call Guinness.

I have seen literally twelve million pints of that disappear down the necks of Bostonians. Always wanted to try it.

I hear it tastes like blood.

Yum! Yes, please!

The old cravings return, eh, T. bataar?

Oh, man, I am dying to sink my fangs into the juicy flank of a Saurolophus angustirostris. What I wouldn’t give. Being a fossil sucks.

You may be amused to learn, Palaeo, that I was stored in a warehouse on the site of the Guinness brewery in Dublin.

No way.

Yes, way. At four acres, the grounds of the brewery at St James’s Gate were expansive. The founder of the tipple your Bostonian friends were so fond of imbibing—

Arthur Guinness. That’s why it’s called a pint of Uncle Arthur.

Arthur Guinness, yes, leased the site in 1759 for the sum of forty-five pounds a year. It is, to this day, the longest lease of which I have ever heard. Nine thousand years, to be precise.

Say what now?

It expires in the year 10,759.

Now that’s thinking of the future. Will the planet even exist then, M?

Oh, the planet will, of that I’m certain, Palaeo. There simply won’t be any hominids around, or Guinness for that matter.

Don’t be so sure about the planet still being here, bro.

Asteroids, yeah, yeah, we get it, T. Change the record already.

I’ve never eaten penguin before, but I’m willing to give it a go.

We’re a rich source of minerals and omega-three fatty acids. Why don’t you come on over here and try some?

I’m starting to get why the mummy hates you, penguin. You’re an A-hole, bra.

You’re not much fun, either, T. Where did that biped take Hattie, M?

They have locked her into a case at the rear of the room. She is perhaps more frangible than us.

Back in her box where she belongs. Good!

They seem to be rearranging the exhibits slightly to make space. I hope we are not separated, T. bataar. My story still has some considerable way to run.

We’re too big, unfortunately. HEY. YOU THERE. TAKE THE PENGUIN.

She can’t hear you, doofus.

HEY. YO. BLONDIE. YOU. YES, YOU. COME HERE A SECOND. I NEED YOU TO … Ah, frig, she’s gone.

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