The Mighty Megalosaurus
(60,000,023BC)
Earl was finally happy. He was working the weekdays at Wesayso, pushing down stubborn trees that the other employees weren't strong enough to push (or so Richfield said), and working one afternoon a week at Bob LaBrea High School so that he could continue working out. He had just had his picture taken, his muscles bulging as he posed with a red and black plaid thong. He showed his mother the picture, beaming, even as he was taken aback by how frail she looked by comparison.
"A letter came for you today," Cayla noted weakly, nodding toward the small bedside table. "I think it's from Pearl. She's been a huge success too."
Earl took the letter and started to read.
Dear Earl:
I've decided to marry Buttons. He just gets me, you know? He knows how to make me laugh and he treats me like a queen. I'm glad you finally got that job you were looking for. I wish you the best of luck.
Love Always,
Pearl
"Isn't that wonderful?" Cayla asked her son.
Earl nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said, trying his best to fake sincerity.
Earl spent nearly all night at the gym, still lifting weights when the school opened the next morning. He saw his sister, surrounded by balloons and party favors and singing and dancing … and he pulled so hard on the weight machine, the wires nearly snapped. He stopped and ran to the forest to push down trees, and as soon as his shift was over, he ran back to the gym. He hadn't even thought about his mother for the last forty-eight hours. All he could think about was how no matter how hard he tried to keep his family functional, it just kept getting worse.
Some senior tennis players started coming in from the tennis court, laughing and sweating and headed for the showers, including a very curvaceous allosaur female with bright pink crests wrapped with a dark blue sweatband.
"OW!" Earl screamed, dropping his weights, clutching his wrist.
The allosaur rushed over to him. "Mr. Sinclair, are you alright?" she asked him in a very concerned voice.
He smiled, trying to act brave, despite the tears flowing from his eyes. "Oh, it's nothing, nothing a little splint won't cure," he told her. "And it's Earl, Earl Sinclair."
"Fran," she replied, blushing. "You don't seem to work around here much anymore. I've missed you."
Now it was Earl's turn to blush. "No offense, but I'm not all that interested in going to jail. You're a little young."
Fran smiled. "I turned eighteen just last Monday," she told him coyly. She took off her sweatband. "Let me wrap that up for you," she said in a motherly tone. "You should get that looked at," she informed him, batting her eyes. "It looks broken."
"Probably," Earl replied, awestruck. No one had ever tended to him so, well, tenderly before.
"How's your mother?"
Earl's jaw dropped. "How do you know about my mother?"
Fran smiled. "A female's business is to learn about the dinosaur she likes."
Earl's face turned as red as his shirt.
The last day of school two months later heralded a hurrah from all the students and the teachers. Fran was busy talking to her parents, dressed in silver robes from the graduation ceremony. Earl, meanwhile, walked to the apartment. He opened it, discovering in horror that his mother was on the small couch, dead.
The Phillips had refused to attend, but Roy was Best Man, dressed in a smart-looking tuxedo as Fran and Earl stood happily before the Council of Elders. The scent of incense and the candlelight atmosphere gave the civil ceremony a romantic atmosphere. Earl wore a rented tuxedo, while Fran wore a lacey white gown that stretched beyond her long tail. It had been her mother's. While Ethyl refused to attend the ceremony, she had still given the dress to Fran, because that's what mothers did – they provided for the next generation.
Earl carried Fran over the threshold to their new house. As Fran started to look around, Dominic, by now barely recognizable, appeared and handed his son a pair of gloves. "When the rich ol' broad hits seventy-two, put 'em ta good use," he said, as he walked away for the last time. – The End –