Dino was a microscopic dinosaur brought up in an obscure, tiny, ancient bottle, forgotten on a non-existent island. The island was supposed to be rectangular, shaped as a table, with very sharp corners, ornamented with Acacia thorns, crepe paper pockets and large stone snails. If it were real, it would have been estimated to find there quite vast fields cultivated with teeth and fangs of all sizes, to feed the poor vegetarian alligators preserved there since the biblical flood. They evaded from Noah’s Ark, afraid he would kindly, politely and absolutely incidentally subject them to genetic experiments, transforming them into protozoan parasites and molecular saws. That would have been completely heart-breaking for them. The two alligators, which forcibly formed a couple, named Aldee and Gottopr, almost died floating randomly on the diluvial waters, verbally and physically abused by buildings’ remains. On the last day, they were terribly shocked to be obscenely caressed by broken superior members of statues.
What was unbearable for them was to be gossiped by cadavers. Curiously, the corpses smelled good, as if immersed into French perfume. They had their eyes opened towards the sky, watching the triangular birds scratching their noses. The ante-diluvial avian endothermic vertebrates had round, spongy, black noses, out of which fake plastic tree roots emerged. The wings were placed instead of their feet and the eyes were situated on their bellies, moving around in regular circles, repeated continuously. The birds had to fly with their heads rigidly oriented upside down, screw-driven in great haste, just before the deluge started. The creation project was still a work in progress, precipitously interrupted by malefic forces. Some of them had their heads solidly attached to their bodies, most of them being left with the throat exposed to massive acid rainfall. Their rusty eyes, in variable degrees, wept in purple and red ink, symmetrically quantified, flowing in curves and hieroglyphs, watering the dental organic cultures.
The alligators’ congregation have a national anthem consisting in an endless series of hiccups, interrupted by sudden roars. The national coats of arms reproduces an egg crushed by a huge hammer, dropped down from the highest tower, at the same time. This episode dates back to the mythical times, when the ancestors considered common sense that the egg had sufficient time to hatch itself, liberating a fully grown, mature hen, before hitting the ground. This proves the fair play, the equality of chances and the total lack of discrimination, transferred into their national sport, the contest between the kind hearted hammer and the ungrateful egg. Even though the egg always ends broken, it is officially considered the winner, a title never contested. The crushed egg shells are praised and rewarded with a cracked bucketful of the best teeth harvest, during a violent earthquake, after squeezing a rubber lemon in a collective ceremony.
It took five centuries to wait for the perfect seismic activity, compulsory for the teeth to be convinced they are ripened, thus consenting to be deracinated, terribly trampled down, cursed and powdered with baseball bats. In normal conditions, when not involved in the national sport, the teeth are harvested when freshly chopped, fried, neither too hot, nor too cold, breathing through small pores produced by worms in their membrane, covered by yummy, breaded, golden crust. The teeth are expected to say a prayer, thanking the eaters for eating them, wholeheartedly, while being chewed with the nails and thrusted inside the stomachs, hanging outside the alligators’ chest, as deflated balls. Someone else has to witness the situation, usually the eater’s partner, who is honoured to punch the anatomical ball, before and after the swallow.
The winning egg lying pulverized on the ground is, usually, given a post it paper note with a name, a date, an hour and a room to go to and wait for further instructions. If it really wanted to, it was supposed the egg could put itself together in a fraction of a second, totally positive and without remorse, heading automatically towards that direction. If not, it was more than obvious that the egg refused the prize. The eggs never raise to the nation’s expectations, becoming the public enemy. Some alligators even pick up atomic remains, shaking them with mice rictuses, hen claws, dog hair and cow moos, convinced that this potion brings fortune and everlasting happiness.
Once upon a time, something unbelievable happened, a teeth lot refused to be eaten, causing the outrage of the entire population. The teeth sat almost naked in the sunshine, drinking Margaritas, tickling each other with a stainless steel needle. They even created their own political party, ideology and religion, based on the idea of puking every night at twelve o’clock sharp, standing on their heads. The main belief was in the broken spine of a geological monster, preserved segmented in a huge bottomless drawer. When they realized the sacred relics are gone, they decreed a universal holiday, authenticated by an official communique, stating that the spine had been claimed by a manic-depressive Cretaceous creature.
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