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A little story ;-)
The following is just a story, only the names have been changed to protect
the innocent. If you've been finding it difficult to wade through the
postings now playing, this may be either another in the same vien or a dry
look at the goings on here of late, it's your call.
The hyper intelligent Drommie typed in her password, logged on to check her
email, and waited for coffee to brew. The rotten meat truck, on it's daily
rounds for the Rexy family down the block, lumbered by. Nothing seemed
unusual about this morning, as even the Noders were already headed out in
their old LTD they called "the tank", as they did every morning. 15 of the
65 Trooie hatchlings, the ones their mother's brother didn't eat (rumor has
it), were skipping off to school. The computer sounded the familiar,
"you've got a reverted pubis load of mail!", and the Drommie looked away
from the window.
Her mammal mailing list had been busy over night, and she watched the
process crawl along, annoyed that her new 56k seemed no faster than her old
28.8. She returned to watching her neighborhood come to life, suddenly
happy to avoid the commute. Her 10 eggs were getting close to hatching, and
looked forward to the maternity leave. "These three weeks are going to be
great", she thought to herself.
The download completed, and she began to skim over the long list of
postings. Many of the messages were brutish arguements over differences of
opinion, and so hard to follow the whole thread had become tedious. She
trashed those without even reading them, and tried to pick out a fresh
subject from the remaining messages.
A few postings caught her eye, one about a new theory as to the cause of
the great mammal extinction event, based on gravitational shifting. Another
concerning an absurd question about what if mammals had continued to evolve
and were matched against a squad of Ducky shock-troops.
A flock of green daybats, the closest thing left over from the K/T event to
true mammals, squawked loudly as they started their morning. The Drommie
glanced out the window to catch a glimpse of the daybats, and wondered what
it would really be like if the mammals had survived.
She went back to checking her email, and noticed a message from one of her
dig leaders. She quickly double clicked the header, and was shocked to read
the message. It seems the university was making sweeping changes in the
curation of the museum and the very essence of its collections were to be
trashed. This was upsetting news, and she didn't know how to feel. After
three years of working in the same location these changes meant much more
than she could immediately grasp. Unable to continue reading, and uncertain
as to how to respond, she tapped her right big toe nervously.
Without bothering to read the remaining messages the
Drommie-soon-to-be-mommie went to check her clutch, very happy that there
was more to life than her mailing list, and saddened that there would be
such changes in her dig experience. "We don't have to worry about mean ole
mammals gnawing through your shells do we?", she softly cooed to her eggs,
and tiny squeeking sounds responded to her. In a few days her eggs would
hatch, and the Drommie couldn't wait.
A terrible crashing sound shattered the peacefulness of the moment, and she
ran to the mouth of her burrow to see what had happened. It was the male
rexy, from down the block, laying streched out on the ground. Apparently he
was returning from his morning run, something his doctors told him not to
do, when he tripped over a garden hose. Without arms to break his fall he
had plowed into the pavement face first and broke his neck. the EMT's
arrived on the scene within minutes, but it was to no good. the fall had
broken his neck.
The Drommie returned to the safety of her burrow, and wished her mate was
not out hunting with the pack.
Roger A, Stephenson