© Bruce Goodman 14 October 2014
It would be very “yesterday” to say that Gareth travelled back in a time machine. Not only would it be very “yesterday”, it would be untrue. He was caught, after he had wished for it, in a time warping vortexical constagrator. (Don’t panic! They haven’t been invented yet!)
Gareth was dumped unceremoniously into the Late Cretaceous Period. There before him stood a titanosaur. It was about 40 metres long and 20 metres tall. It must have weighed over 70 tonnes. There wasn’t just one; there was a whole family. Sixteen in all. How exciting is that?
The vortexical constagrator would not return for another 24 hours. Gareth had only to watch and take notes and photograph everything.
And then, right before his eyes, a titanosaur had a crap. This was no turkey droppings. This was no elephant turds. This was a gigantic mound of titanosaurian shit. Then another had a crap. And another. And another. There was a mountain of excrement.
The stench was unbelievable. Gareth could hardly breathe. He retched. He vomited. Then a herd of albertoceratops came galloping by. Thunderous! And all crapping as they went.
Honestly. The noise! The smell! The shit! The rotting flesh of decaying edmontonias! It was the most disgusting experience of Gareth’s life.
When the vortexical constagrator returned, Gareth had been dead for 23 hours. No, he hadn’t been crushed in the jaws of a giganotosaurus. He’d drowned by gagging on his own vomit.