The Dinosaur Fight
We walked out of the pub and straight into the fight. They were like two dinosaurs circling each other on the high street. We stayed well back, but damn, we had to watch.
The big guy would be the T Rex, all sweaty with a greenish face, his fists rolling at the end of two bent arms. The other guy was all nose – a Triceratops for sure. He stayed low, pure malice in his eyes.
Natalie was excited despite herself, a primeval adrenaline buzz from two guys preparing to slug it out. I didn’t want to spoil the fun, but I didn’t want them to destroy each other, either, right? Not kill each other and eat the remains, anyway.
More folks gathered; good people of the night who can usually be spotted in any medium-sized city. Powered by booze or drugs, they sloped or fizzed up to join us.
One young guy repeatedly rubbed his nose, his eyes unable to focus on the dinosaur guys.
‘Whassa goin’ on, dude?’ he kept asking. Natalie gave him a commentary. I watched out for cops.
The T Rex guy let out a series of high jabs, peppering Triceratops on the forehead. He groaned, spooling backward and smacking into a lamppost. There were some ragged cheers.
‘Get him boy!’ howled an old man. I saw money changing hands.
Triceratops straightened and shook his head like a wet dog. Then he charged, bowling T Rex over like a pin.
‘ST-RIIIKE!’ shouted the nose-rubber guy, too close to my ear. T Rex reached up with his feet and kick-bowled Triceratops right over his head, like they were barrel-wheeling in a county fair.
Natalie clapped like it was some kind of performance art. I shook my head at her, but she was lost in it. A fine rain had started to fall, and I could feel the pull of the chippy.
The barrel-wheel collapsed, and T Rex got the upper hand. He let loose, his tiny arms pummelling Triceratops until he was bloody and senseless.
‘That’s enough dude,’ yelled a guy in a business suit. Late night at the office?
Everyone else pretended to be peeved that office-grandad was ending the fun but inside we were all glad. Nobody wanted Triceratops brain-damaged… or dead.
T Rex turned around, lifted his head and roared into the dark. We shrank back, the sight of those yellow corpse-chompers too much for anyone. He looked a hundred feet tall, the rain shimmering on his scales.
Then Triceratops stood and tiptoed up behind, stabbing him in the back with something.
‘Knife!’ cried a woman in a high voice.
T Rex swung in the air, rolling left and right, weakly. Then he crunched to his knees, the sound making my own tingle.
We melted away into the wet night, calling the cops and an ambulance on our phones. Natalie looked shaken, and I put my arm around her. ‘Chips?’ I asked, tenderly.
Carolyn Ward lives just west of Wolverhampton in the UK and is working on her first children’s novel. She writes flash fiction using the weird ideas her kids inspire and is published around the internet, in a couple of anthologies and on LingoBites app. For writing updates follow @Viking_Ma on Twitter.