Utah Raptor Got The Big City Blues Again
by Bey Wesley, December 2004
Paul Greenup hated Christmas; he hated its crass commercialism. He hated plastic snowmen on everyone’s lawns, light displays that flaunted waste while other people were starving, everyone acting as if they cared about everyone else. Christmas was the phoniest time of the year. And if another person wished him a merry Christmas, well he would bite their head off. And he could do it too, because he was a dinosaur.
It was snowing, not hard though. Just enough to clutter the window of Paul’s Volkswagen Vanagon, but not enough to fill anyone with the illusion that they would get tomorrow off.
Nope, tomorrow would certainly be a work day. At least now he’d have an excuse to leave Christmas dinner early. But then it wasn’t really Christmas dinner, it was only the twenty-second. He couldn't understand how they could change the date of a holiday to suit their conveniences. The Johnsons, wanting to spend Christmas in Jamaica had simply moved their Christmas dinner to the twenty-second.
He was not looking forward to dinner with the Johnsons; he pictured a painfully large meal, followed by overweight people lying end to end in the living room gasping, with the pain of digestion. The thought of the living room, full of tender people: too slow to run, slick with the sweat of gluttony, filled him simultaneously with apathy and hunger.
He knew he could endure this for Tina. He could endure anything for Tina. She was the kind of woman who could make you forget you were a dinosaur. She could make you forget that you consumed flesh to live -- forget that existence is struggle. Paul was not sure how it was that she had gotten under his leathery skin, but he knew that he could no longer separate himself from her. He would suffer through dinner, to be with her. He would tolerate Christmas; he would do anything if it were important to Tina.
He remembered the conversation clearly, the trap she had sprung so cleverly. And he had fallen for it. How could he have fallen for it?
“What are you doing for dinner on Thursday?” Tina asked.
“Nothing,” Paul replied, still not sensing the impending danger.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
And just as he said, “Sure, I’d love to?” he felt the tug of the hook.
“Great, my parents are really looking forward to meeting you”.
Her parents? How did he get himself into this? Parents never responded well to Paul. He had long since given up trying to please them. At the television station, where the children greeted him daily with affections; maccaroni-rainbow-braclets, and crayon-drawings, the parents would seldom pay him any attention at all. He was that creep in the dinosaur suit. Paul hated parents. Not his own particularly, but everyone else’s. They would ask him all those questions about the future; they would ask him what he did for a living. And he would have to tell them, just like all those times before. “I’m a professional Dinosaur.”
“You’re a what?” Mr. Johnson would say.
“A dinosaur, a Utah Raptor to be exact,” Paul would say matter-of-factly.
“Umm-hmm, and what exactly do Utah Raptors Do?” Mr. Johnson would ask, trying to sound unalarmed.
“We used to run and hunt mostly”, Paul would say.
“Oh and we eat people.” Paul figured he would just throw that in the end. He wanted to be honest, but he didn’t want to upset anyone.
He arrived at Tina’s house a little late. She had wanted to ride there together, but Paul had realized that if he wanted to leave early he had better take his own car. As he walked the icy slick sidewalk from the driveway to the house he remembered his aversion to winter. Cold weather was not Paul’s style. He preferred the sticky heat of the rainforest to the stinging cold of the city in winter. He pounded on the door forcefully, hoping they would respond before his metabolism slowed down entirely and they found him unconscious on their icy stairs.
Just as he reached up to knock on the door again it opened. There in the open doorway stood a child, a little boy. He was wearing a brown polyester suit and a clip-on tie. He had just showered. Paul could tell because the boy’s dark hair was laying slick against his head. Also, Paul had an extremely acute sense of smell: a common trait among carnivores.
“Hey, aren’t you Paul, the dinosaur?” asked the boy.
Paul rushed past him without responding, eager to enter the house where it was warm at last. Paul wiggled his fingers and shook his tail. He was glad for the warmth again.
“Yep, that’s me, Paul the Dinosaur.” he said as he extended his reptilian fingers. “Pleased to meet you. And you are?” I’m Tim, said the child. Reaching hesitantly towards Paul’s outstretched lizard hand. A pleasure to meet you Tim, said Paul. Tim took off running down the hall.
“Guess who’s here, Guess who’s here? It’s Paul from TV”.
Paul did not particularly like children, though they loved him.
Paul had no friends over twelve. People did not usually respond well to his type of professional. It was just as well, he had nothing to share with the plump executives, or the greasy bartenders. Their lives were so very easy. They did not know what it was to struggle or evolve. They lorded over everything: dominating all that was natural with their large pink brains. But they would not lord over Paul. It was only a matter of time before he ate them all.
An army of children pulling at him soon surrounded Paul. Tugging at his tail and his nose as if they were trying to remove his costume. An adult came in and started herding the children, to try and stop them from annoying Paul.
“Sorry about the kids, they forget themselves sometimes.”
“That’s all right,” said Paul. “I get that a lot from kids.”
“How many do you have?”
“None, actually I work with kids,” said Paul. “I’m a professional dinosaur.”
“Really, and what exactly do professional dinosaurs do?”
“Television.”
“I guess I should have figured, listen I’ll see you at dinner. I have to run to the store to get some more eggs we’re nearly out of egg-nog.”
“It was nice to meet you,” said Paul.
She left. Paul stood alone in the foyer of the house now. He was too shy to go and speak to the Johnsons without Tina. So he contented himself walking around the room, looking at the photographs on the wall and on top of the piano. Paul had studied the piano for a while but he could never quite master it; he didn’t have enough fingers, and the ones he did have were not opposable.
“Hey good looking," said the voice behind him. “See anything you like?”
“Well the blonde here looks ... delicious.” Paul gestured toward the little girl in the picture.
“Maybe later I’ll let you nibble,” she said. That drove Paul crazy. He growled in response. “Let me introduce you to the fam,” she said. Paul followed close behind her, watching her sway as she walked. They went into the next room where Tina proceeded to attach names to a slew of children. Some of whom he had already met. The children were all seated at the card table in the kitchen. The adults were all in the other room. Some of them standing, and others were seated. All of them were sipping wine and laughing. Dinner had not yet begun, the guest were just socializing. After staring at the adults from the doorway, Paul returned to talk with the children.
“Do you ever take that off?” asked the children.
“Take what off?” said Paul.
“That costume. You must be really hot,” said Tim.
“Nahh. I like it, besides, it’s freezing out there.”
Tina returned from the dining room. “Are you going to stay there with the kids all night? C’mon, I want you to meet my parents.”
“Aunt Tina, is your friend Paul wearing a suit?” asked Timmy.
“Of course he is, what do you think, that’s his skin?” responded Tina.
“I told you it was a costume,” said Tim triumphantly to the other children. “I told you.”
Tina, growing impatient with Paul’s inability to leave the children’s room, walked out in a huff.
Paul, oblivious to Tina’s exit, continued speaking with Tim. “Wanna see the secret zipper?” asked Paul.
Tim shook his head enthusiastically Paul opened his mouth and pointed his scaly finger to the rear of it.
“It’s back there, Timmy. Can you see it?”
“No, it's too dark,” said Timmy, “I can't see.”
“It’s a little farther back,” said Paul. “You’ve got to lean in.”
Timmy leaned in and Paul gobbled him down. He followed Tina into the dining room to hobnob with the adults. Paul was glad that dinner began, before he had the chance to introduce himself to anyone and engage in senseless party banter. All of the guests were promptly seated at the table. His was directly across from Mr. Johnson himself. Dinner was quite elaborate – goose, lamb, turkey, everything. Paul had several servings of it all. He loved to eat, even if it was already dead. There was something so hypnotic and wonderful about eating. Mr. Johnson began right away asking questions. Paul responded as best he could.
Mr. Johnson did not look too impressed. He did not seem to care for reptiles. He did not even notice that Paul was a six-foot-tall-warm-blooded-bipedal-evolutionary wonder. He stared at Paul as if he were a newly formed boil. Mr. Johnson did not look like the kind of man who would tolerate boils.
Tina interceded, “Paul works on television, Daddy, he’s Mr. Bob’s sidekick.”
“Assistant,” said Paul, “I’m Mr. Bob’s executive assistant.”
“Don’t be so touchy dear,” said Tina flatly.
“Well, I’m not a ‘sidekick.’ I went to college, you know. I’m not some deranged flunky-sidekick”.
“You wear a dinosaur costume on national television, and you’re not just a little unusual?” said Tina coyly.
“When you say I’m his sidekick I feel like we’re just paling around, like it’s not real work. ‘Sidekick’ makes me feel like f*****g Tonto or something.”
“Please, not at the table,” said Mr. Johnson, firmly.
Paul suddenly realized he was shouting, not talking anymore. Tina’s family was looking at him, they were not eating. Their eyes lashed out to sample him. Their eyelids like hungry jaws gnawed into his face.
“I’m sorry,” said Paul, “I forgot myself”.
No reply, but the clink of a fork.
Tina reached in to save him again; “Paul’s been under a lot of stress lately,” she paused briefly. “Paul, Honey would you like to go for a walk?” She said in her super-sweet-honey-you’re-in-trouble voice.
“Yes, that would be a good idea, I could use some air,” said Paul.
Tina and he pushed their chairs back from the table hurriedly. He shuffled away, trying not make eye contact.
They grabbed their coats from the closet and then moved quickly out the door.
“WHAT is your problem, Paul?” Tina said furiously.
“I’m sorry, I forgot myself,” said Paul meekly.
Tina’s nostrils where flailing. Her breath was a visible cloud in the illumination of the Christmas lights.
“Yeah, you did. That’s my father in there ... my father the Presbyterian minister.”
“I know babe, I’m sorry”
“You’re always sorry. I don’t think sorry is good enough”
“I know babe, I’m sorry.”
“Will you shut-up with sorry already ... Jesus, I want you to meet my family. I want you to get to know them ... Paul, I love you.”
“I love you too ... I was just so nervous ...”
“I know it’s hard for you to meet new people, but can you try huh? just try?”
“I am trying, but he doesn’t make it easy, they don’t make it easy.”
“For god’s-sake Paul, you just told them you’re a professional dinosaur.”
“I am a Dinosaur,” defended Paul.
“Paul, why don’t you just tell people that your Mr. Bob’s side ...”
“Assistant, I’m Mr. Bob’s ASSISTANT, and I AM a Professional Dinosaur.”
“Dammit Paul, other celebrities have a regular-life ... Do you think that the guy in the mouse suit tells people he’s a professional rodent? Do you?”
“That’s not the same ... that’s just some guy in a suit. I’m the genuine article, dammit. I’m a Utah raptor”.
“Paul, please don’t start this ... don’t start this ... not now, please, not now.”
“How can you love me, when you don’t even know what I am?”
“I know that you’re a sweet and intelligent guy, you’ve just got a few problems.”
“I am not a sweet guy. I am a Dinosaur, a Raptor. I live to hunt and to eat, and I am a carnivore.”
“Paul ... just calm down.”
Paul was cold again now. The snow was really coming down. The snowflakes buzzed around the orange of the sodium lamps.
“Paul, I’ve been thinking ... what is this?”
“What is what?” Paul said.
“What is this ... this thing we have?”
“I don’t understand -- what are you asking me?” said Paul, he was confused. Tina could be so confusing with her big brain.
“Maybe this isn’t working. Paul maybe we should see other people for a while?” Tina was speaking as if she were asking a question. But it wasn’t a question. Paul knew that much. He felt something break, something deep within his leathery skin. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to be with Tina forever. Wanted to love her. He wanted to open up his reptilian heart and embrace her. But all that came out of his mouth was a low growl. Then something clicked, and Paul ate Tina. She would be with him now, always.
It was snowing again. The flakes sporadic like dandruff. The snow already on the ground was black with the issue of cars: streets full of the city’s dark excrement.