Of all the ways one could die at the dinosaur zoo, Death prefers the T-rex. Three to four people can fit inside the jaws of a full-grown T-rex. The animal can eat upwards of 800 pounds of flesh in a single sitting. Consequently, Death can immediately recognize the scene of a T-rex attack — not from any telltale bite-marks or lacerations — but by the conspicuous absence of any remains whatsoever. Clean up is a snap.
On the other end of the spectrum, the scene of a raptor attack is a mess. Don’t even ask Death about the aftermath of a triceratops stampede.
But with the T-rex, Death doesn’t have to wait around for the victims to finally succumb to their wounds. There’s no lingering. No false hope of survival. Death can be quick and painless. And if Death can admire anything at all, it admires efficiency.
But Death doesn’t show up at the dinosaur zoo all that often. Especially compared to other major zoos. Contemporary, run-of-the-mill animals kill all the time. People are mauled by their pet dogs on a daily basis. The lowly honey bee kills a hundred people a year. If you take a look at Death’s Timeless and Eternal Ledger of All Things Passed, only a handful of people can say they’ve ever been attacked by a dinosaur — much less killed.
Most of the time an incident at the dinosaur zoo isn’t even dinosaur-related…
