The Dinosaur Keeper

Chapter 4

Rex stood quite still hoping that the animal hadn’t noticed him.

This of course was ridiculous, as whilst Rex froze, staring the creature in the eyes, he in return stared straight right back at Rex, perfectly motionless.

The Tyrannosaurus was so terrifyingly tall, that even the Total Fruit Tree was dwarfed by the monster, making it look like a child inspecting a bonsai. However, unlike a plant being looked over by a toddler, the tree seemed petrified by the arrival of its new acquaintance. The oranges appeared to be scrambling round to branches on the other side, the melons slipped down their very vines, the hands of bananas were clenched like fists and the apples, that were so brave to be eyes last night, looked like they were tightly shut with fear.

While Rex observed this, desperately trying to break eye contact with the sight before him, the beast just carried on staring right back.

Pooetesleap cracked first, turned round on the spot and charged at the front door, only to bounce back twice as fast, the door locked to ensure nothing got in.

Unfortunately, neither Pooetesleap or Rex, had thought of what would happen if they were the things trying to get in.

To be fair Rex was alright, he had a key, but this helped Pooetesleap not one jot, as the Dinosaur Keeper had never thought of giving the dog one, presuming that the ginger mutt would lack the dexterity required. Besides he didn’t have a pocket in which to keep it.

But at this precise moment he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret, that he hadn’t given the poor creature a chance to at least feebly attempt to work out how to open the door.

Another crack broke the silence as Pooetesleap hit his head again, sharply on one of the panels, not entirely convinced that the door was really locked until his second attempt.

For a split second Pooetesleap become astonishingly brave and proceeded to bark loudly at what was in front of him.

Unfortunately this bravado hastily stopped, with the slightest hint of a snort from the Tyrannosaurus who stood perfectly motionless in front of him ,save for the smallest amount of movement from his right eye toward Pooetesleap, eventually turning any noise he made into whimpers, which were finally replaced by silence and then cold, violent shivering.

At the end of this mixed display, Pooetesleap lay down and covering his eyes with his paws, excepted his fate, albeit blindly.

Rex tried to focus his mind on the current situation.

Scrambling for a while and accepting that intelligent thought had been replaced by what could only be described as rampant fear, he stood silently turning his head slowly from the house and back to the sight he hoped would disappear.

Looking right at the Tyrannosaurus, he noted it had decided to lean quite casually on the roof of the house, some metres below it. The dinosaur’s new pose made him look like a drunk at a bar, and questioned whether he was trying to appear calm and relaxed or pondering what to do next.

Finally Rex stared at the creature again directly in the eyes.

They were big, huge even, and a pale, cold green, broken only by fiery orange and flecks of lightning yellow.

If the eyes were huge the whole head was colossal, the size of the dilapidated tractor that rested outside Rex‘s shed, with sharp contours defining its solid skull, whose very veins pulsated behind scarred skin and scales. This in itself would be enough to make a seasoned hero turn into a sobbing baby, but when you brought your gaze down slightly, there was nothing but rows of teeth, glinting in the sun and apparently dripping with anticipation.

A jaw over a metre long, started to twist and twitch, as if a great machine had suddenly been turned on after years of rest, slowly remembering what it was meant to do and spluttering into life. It’s huge neck, three times as thick and four times as long as Rex, moved slowly toward him, the rest of its body staying rigidly still, apart from it’s right arm steadying the rest of it’s bulk cautiously on the guttering near the top bedroom.

The scaly body contorted purposely as it’s head came level with Rex, and a tail swished, gently tapping the trunk of the Total Fruit Tree. Nostrils flaring, hot breath blew over Rex as the head finally rested a few inches away.

The Dinosaur Keeper managed a measure of composure, and mentally ticked off what he should be doing.

It wasn’t like this was the first time he had been in the company of such an animal, and he was well verse in the protocol.

So gazing back at the right foot, he looked at the creatures biggest toe and observed its magnitude. It reminded Rex of a freshly chopped log, long and skinny, but undeniably strong, and finished with a razor sharp, grey toe nail. He moved to the next toe, and then to the next, all fiercely large and dangerous, and then finally the smallest, which was still large enough to feed a family of four for several months.

Or rather would have been if it had indeed still been there.

Exhaling deeply, wiping his brow, Rex bent over resting his hands on less shaky knees and chuckled slightly at his own stupidity. There, where the fourth and final toe should be, it was not.

Or rather it was half not.

Creased into a small stump was exactly half a toe, and Rex had never been so pleased to see something not there.

Moving briskly to the back of the dinosaurs head he scratched at the base of the skull where it met the neck. This being the only place where a Tyrannosaurus could not reach, mocked with arms ridiculously short for such a colossal body, Rex duly kept up the rubbing motion for quite some time, while the great dinosaur wore an expression of ecstasy and delight.

Maxamontrueguide, or Max as he was fondly known, was the only dinosaur that Rex knew liked him whole heartedly. Loved him even, in as much a way that a hulking great dinosaur can love an almost four foot human, in a respectable way.

Pooetesleap leapt in the air, and snuggled deeply into the dinosaurs chin, licking it about the face first, which caused the old creature to splutter and breath deeply, enjoying every second. After a moment or two Max reciprocated Pooetesleap’s attention and let out a great snort from his right nostril. Aimed squarely at the door it forced it open with a reassuring click.

Pooetesleap leaped inside, snuggling up in his basket, still exhausted from his earlier quivering.

Rex continued to scratch at the base of the head, making sure he did not miss one square centimetre. This routine could go on for an age, as Max’s neck was so vast and Rex’s hands were so very tiny.

Rex didn’t care at all, he knew that it was appreciated, and Max was his best friend in the whole of Chunk, even if he was the size of tree that had been eating grow fast for several years, having previously being stretched by two planets at either side of the galaxy.

He was the first thing that Rex remembers, well, at all.

Eighteen years old and flat on his back in the middle of a field he had opened his eyes to see the creature gently dozing by the side of him. Rex did what any sensible person could have done, upon being next to a potentially lethal dozing monster, and flapped uncontrollably, running around in circles, waking the Tyrannosaurus up, until he eventually knocked himself out by running into a tree. Upon coming round from this, again he saw the Tyrannosaurus’ immense face and hurled himself at the same aforementioned tree. Coming round from this for the second time, Rex noticed that the ground had suddenly become very far away. Max had obviously got fed up with his repeated antics and placed him securely in the tree that he had so evidently become very fond of. As consciousness flooded over him, and he saw Max again, Rex proceeded to scream as loud as he could, flapped a bit, again realised he was at the top of a very large tree, and then hung on as best as he could, clutching as hard as possible to one branch and shaking fiercely.

Which is when Rex had a miraculous thought, that went something like this:

’I’m in a tree.

Before the tree I was on the ground.

Before the tree, and presumably after the ground, I was put in this tree.

There is nothing else here apart from a Tyrannosaurus.

Hey I know what a Tyrannosaurus is!

The tree must have seen the creature and protected me by lifting me up into it’s branches.

This is patently ridiculous.

Hey I know what a tree is!

So me, tree, Tyrannosaurus.

The Tyrannosaurus must have put me in a tree, meaning;

One, it could have eaten me.

Two, it didn’t.

Three, it must be friendly.

Four, I’m in a tree.

Ouch! Five, now I’m not.

Six, note to self, always hold on to something when in a tree’.

Now I know what your thinking ‘hey! Why all the hey’s?’.

This was quite simple, Rex had no idea why or how he was here. To be more specific, he had no idea about anything before the moment he opened his eyes and saw the great hulking dinosaur, consequently running around and knocking himself out. Therefore, the occasional hey, for recognising something and giving it a name, was acceptable, in fact knowing that there was such a thing as a name was quite remarkable.

However, this was in second place to the next detail, which was the fact that he could read.

In his pocket, of what he was quite sure were called his trousers, there was a large brown, several paged, note. Not only a note but the most important note he had ever had and it started like this:

‘This is the most important note you have ever had’, hence the previous sentence,

‘No note will be this important again and will make any notes you remember having completely pointless. Firstly you will remember nothing, which rather negates the need for the previous sentence, which will be taken out if this note is ever written again’.

Rex looked up puzzled, but the Tyrannosaurus that was the only object he could direct his puzzlement to was tiptoeing away.

So not knowing what else to do, he continued with the reading of the note.

‘If all is according to procedure, and it always is, the Tyrannosaurus, who incidentally is called Maxamontrueguide or Max for short, should be tiptoeing away’

Blimey this note knows everything thought Rex,

’You will now be thinking blimey this note knows everything, and just to prove us as the right clever clogs that we are we will add, the reason he is tiptoeing away is that if he walks or runs it sounds like a heard of elephants crashing a plane into a mountain and landing on several drum kits.

Planet Chunk will now turn over and you will promptly fall over, please continue with this note after that’.

Rex fell over tumbling toward the tree he had previously been placed in.

Deciding to rest there for a while, on what was said to be the strangest day he could remember, the only day he could remember for that matter, he continued,

‘Point number one, planet Chunk turns at four forty five, ten forty-five, sixteen forty-five and twenty-two forty-five, precisely. The watch on your wrist will now say sixteen forty-six, please brace yourself at the aforementioned times.’

Rex looked at a gleaming new, gold style, brown strapped watch. The leather was stiff, and the catch still slotted into a perfectly square hole. It wasn’t more than a week old and he couldn’t help but sniff the strap slightly, just to enjoy the leathery smell that only the most recent of watches had. square face. He gazed lovingly at it, and wasn’t quite so sure why the very sight of the watch made him feel so happy, and yet so empty inside, so continued with the note.

‘Point two, you are wearing one set of navy, standard issue uniforms. There are two others in your house please look to the right of the tree’.

Rex, completely spellbound by this note, did as he was told and observed the magnificent building. Pretty sure that this was quite a large house, not that he had much to compare it with, as it was the only one he could see or remember, but he still felt compelled to coo a little bit.

‘Point three,’ continued the note ‘this is quite a large house, consisting of one kitchen-diner functional, one lounge recreational, one main bathroom practical, and eight bedrooms, with occasional en-suite facilities. All eight must be maintained to the highest standards on all occasions’.

Please go into the house and open the door, storing the key you will find in the lock, safely in your pocket. There are no spares’.

This, Rex thought, he should do to the letter. He picked himself up, dusted himself down and started toward the house admiring the bold red door in front of him, clicking it open and placing the key securely in his trouser pocket, there was a great whoosh of air and he was promptly jumped on, causing one potential Dinosaur Keeper to fall flat on his back. Terror, during this abrupt move to the horizontal was at no point present, as this surely was the most bizarre time of his life, even if he couldn’t remember any of it before today. Looking up Rex was greeted with a giant pink tongue and a sticky wet lick.

Before him stood something that he was quite certain was a dog.

More precisely a red-setter with a scruffy leather tag with the number one stamped on it.

The dog scuttled away, somewhere to the back which he presumed was the kitchen. Following, thirst from a very dry throat moving into a drier mouth, Rex decided if this was his house now he could help himself to a nice glass of water.

He sat down at a big kitchen table and drank heavily, taking a second to quickly glance round, before continuing with the note,

‘Point four, by now you should have been greeted by a dog.’

More bowled over thought Rex,

‘This is a Red-Setter, deemed the most appropriate breed for your purposes, and you must take good care of him’

The dog was snoozing now and casually breaking wind, occasionally seeming to offend itself with the fowl stench.

Rex decided to make himself comfy, coming to terms with the fact that the note was more of an essay, and promptly popped off his boots and socks. On putting his foot down he felt something sludgy and warm between his toes, as he begrudgingly and rather sickly it has to be said, looked at his foot.

Seeing what can only be described as a stinky brown mess, on examination it was something that he presumed was previously in the Red-Setter.

‘The dog has been in the house for some hours’, the note continued,

‘BE CAREFUL! ACCIDENTS MAY HAVE OCCURRED!’

This was rather too late, thought Rex.

‘He will be your standard companion, and your first job is to name him.’

Firstly Rex looked at the more stinky foot.

Then observed the remains of the what he presumed had been the animals lunch, barely a morsel left in the shiny chrome bowl.

Finally, the Red-Setter was surveyed curled up fast asleep in a basket.

And so Pooetesleap it was.

‘Point Five,’ the note carried on despite the interruption, ’all other information is located in the Dinosaur Keepers Manual, Four Hundred and Seventy-Sixth edition. This is located in the main lounge area, on the only shelf. Please read chapter one thoroughly before attempting anything, anything at all, the other chapters are to be used when needed.

However if events happen before you manage this please remember one thing, the Dinosaur Keeper, as this is what you are to become, has one strict rule.

The Dinosaur Keeper must look after the Dinosaurs.

Welcome and good luck!

The Trustees’.

Dinosaurs? Good luck?

Rex didn’t like the sound of either of them.

Happily, nothing did happen before he managed to read the first chapter. More’s the pity Rex had thought at the time as, although insightful into what would become his general life, it didn’t half go on. It read as if written by several people who couldn’t agree, and then had assembled the paragraphs independently not really knowing what the others had written. Leaping from what to eat, to how to launder clothes, back to what else to eat, before giving you the rudimentary instructions on dinosaur maintenance.

At least, when he came to the end of the chapter, he knew what cooking and harvesting were, so he wouldn’t starve to death, and where to find the Dinosaurs who, reassuringly he was informed, by and large wouldn‘t consider him a tasty snack.

Absolutely famished, the fridge was flung open and the first Dumdum devoured.

Rex had been a bit squeamish to start, as the little creature had looked so peaceful, as if asleep in an igloo, with crosses for eyes and a cold pale skin. But the book had said this would make up most of his diet and after a day of confusion, and too much information, he wasn’t going to argue with the only thing that was giving him instruction.

Chewing for a good few minutes, the flavour suddenly hit the back of Rex’s mouth, as his jaws started to ache with the endless motion. Yes, the book was definitely to be trusted, the taste was reassuringly mild.

Leaning on the side of the table, he had pondered the rest of the day’s events and decided that it was best to probably get on with things. From what he had gathered in the book, his duties were quite straight forward.

Mucking out seemed to take up most of the general duties, and the only scary thing was if the animals got sick.

Though no details were told in the first chapter, it was made quite clear that eventually one of them would need medical attention.

Reasonably sure that he had never seen a dinosaur before, Rex was not looking forward to trying to diagnose a Pterodon with the measles or a Velociraptor with a whooping cough.

Plus there was the size of them, I mean they were colossal!

At least only five types were here, and he was pretty sure he could work out their general patterns and needs soon enough.

So the first night, Rex diligently burned the midnight oil, and read enthusiastically about what each type of Dinosaur did, where they liked to live, what they ate, how best to approach them, when not to approach them and any problems that may commonly effect each one.

Reassured that he had at least got the rudimentary gist of each type, Rex was quickly catapulted across the length of the room, landing at the foot of the stairs.

Looking at his watch, ten forty-five replied.

He really had to remember the turning points of the planet, if he wasn’t to spend all of his time mildly concussed.

Looking directly up, the stairs beckoned to him and for the first time since arrival realised that the studying of the Dinosaurs had been far more interesting than exploring the rest of the house or going to the toilet, something that he now needed to do with some urgency.

Racing upwards, Rex came face to face with a large cast-iron bed. However on the far side of the room was a door, which he presumed must have been the entry to one of the many en-suites, promptly falling over the bed in his enthusiasm to get there. Lying on his back for a few moments, he thought there had been a lot of tumbling and star gazing today, of which he was getting less and less cheery of with each occurrence.

At least from this angle he could see the rest of the room, and the vastness of the bed upon which he was beside.

It was almost as big as the room and made of dull, grey metal, mottled with hundreds of small circles as if bashed into place, painstakingly, one hit at a time. This was positioned beautifully below the bright main light, that was hidden partially by a massive copper shade, encrusted with green crystals that danced lazily across the deep red walls, merrily parading their emerald fuelled jig.

On the wall directly opposite Rex was a solitary painting, which virtually ran the length of the floor to the ceiling, encaged in a thick gilded frame, heavy with dust but no less diminished in it‘s importance.

There staring directly at him was a man made of the finest oil paint, motionless and proud, the picture making Rex feel strangely assured, shining familiarity in an all too strange room.

The gentleman in it was pleasantly plump with a moustache as bushy as a nest of newborn chicks, curling at each side and narrowly missing two neatly trimmed lamb chop sideburns the colour of sticky toffee pudding. His eyes looked straight through Rex and were as brown as the deepest oak, dipped in chocolate.

It was then that it hit him.

The man in the picture was standing, rather stiffly it had to be said, next to a fireplace.

Not remarkable in itself, but curious enough if you had the exact same fireplace in your house, or in Rex’s case the house he had just acquired.

As he lent rigidly next to the fire place, his arm at a perfect right-angle, the man in the picture kept his other arm immaculately straight, with his hand slightly curled up. The hand was clutching a brand new leather book with a single word on it. One that Rex couldn’t quite work out from this distance.

He squinted and squinted, but finally gave up trying to read it, rubbing his eyes and moving his gaze from the portrait.

Upon looking back at the picture, it hit him like a boxing kangaroo in the first round.

The man was wearing his uniform!

Dashing over, straight after shouting at the blanket box that had presumably leapt out and stubbed his toe, he examined the picture more closely.

The uniform was a slightly darker blue and looked a lot thicker, with big brass buttons.

Rex’s, he reassured himself as he felt round his jacket, were plastic and seemed to fit stiffly in the holes, as he one by one unbuttoned them. The collars of this man were a little wider, and the jacket lapels more broad, but it was definitely a variation on a theme.

The book itself just said ‘Manual’, and the hand that clasped it was next to a brown and white dog that lovingly looked up at it’s master.

It was smaller than Pooetesleap and a completely different breed, a Spaniel, Rex thought it was called. It also looked a bit podgy, as if exercise was nothing but a distant memory.

With this Rex gazed back at the face and rubbed his head and chin, realising that his scalp was cleanly shaved, with a bit of stubble here and there. He also had the growth of a two day beard and seemed to think that this was perfectly normal.

Head swimming for a bit, before a sharp pain attacked his forehead, Rex decided to look back at the painting, the agony easing instantly.

The hat that this man wore was of a broader brim, and taller stature. Rex rubbed his head again and realised he must of knocked his hat off when falling to the ground, spotting it by the blanket box, picking it up and reading the tall, gold letters above the peak. ‘Dinosaur Keeper’ replied to his mouthing lips and Rex felt a warm sensation all through his body as he rubbed a thumb over the moniker.

Looking back at the jolly fellow in the picture, he noted that his hat just said ‘Keeper’.

As the man was standing straight on, there were no words to be missed, no prefix hiding round the corner, just the word Keeper, with an empty space either side.

He also noted that the man looked like he would react with much a gusto to the new word ‘salad’, only to look mildly disappointed upon arrival of the dish. Rex was thin, painfully so, with xylophones for ribs. His hand rubbed over the new jacket and was greeted by the sharp bumps of a slight frame.

Pooetesleap wandered in, licking the side of his lips and casually sniffing around the room, so Rex bent down to stroke him, the crease in his stooping reminding him that he was still bursting for the toilet.

But as he turned, an accident of the most embarrassing nature but a few seconds away, his eyes caught the bottom of the picture and forced the continuing motionless pose for a while.

There right in the middle, at the very edge of the of the frame, was a plaque.

It was a small rectangle, and slightly tarnished, sporting proud stamped letters about half a centimetre in width.

Rex rubbed his finger over it, dislodging a bit of the dust and grime until finally it could be read,

’Augustus Montague Quentin Smith - The First”, it replied.

“A man as greatly remembered as he is missed” finished the inscription.

The first? Rex had thought.

Fancy calling yourself the first.

I mean Rex was the only Rex here, he presumed, but he wouldn’t call himself the first, there would be no need. Unless of course there was two other Rex’s, but they would then be called Rex the second and Rex the third, he would simply remain as Rex.

At this point his bladder became so swollen with pain that a mad dash to the toilet was frantically needed, just in the nick of time.

Thinking he would be there for a while, Rex had no idea when he had last been to the bathroom, he observed the room and thought how lucky he had been that this was indeed the en-suite and not simply a cupboard.

There was no mistaking it, today had been one strange mess of revelation, but Rex felt quite pleased to be here now, as if this was what he was suppose to do, and although only having one experience of a dinosaur, was really quite looking forward to meeting the others.

The Manual had been good, if slightly haphazard, fantastically great even to keep him entertained for so many hours with no concern for bodily functions.

But the lack of pictures had been a bit of disappointment. In fact the only thing that had made Rex explore the upstairs was the swift turning of Chunk at quarter to eleven and the call of nature.

The regimenting of his life from now on was something that Rex had been made more than aware of in the Manual. He would be up everyday promptly to start work at precisely nine, finish at exactly five and even the planet would remind him of what stage of the day it was, as it turned four times in each.

Having pondered for exactly three minutes what a Velociraptor or a Diplodocus would be like, the answer suddenly presented itself.

On the wall of the bathroom was a chart, almost a blueprint, of a Velociraptor.

Sitting motionlessly in the half light from the door, he gazed in horror at the picture before him.

I mean the Tyrannosaurus had been a shock, but ultimately helpful, but these things just looked plain dangerous.

Sitting back on his seat, legs lashed together by the trousers round his ankles, Rex rested his arm on the cold ceramic of a sink beside the toilet. Finally after thoughts had been collected, he pulled his trousers up, tugged on a cord by the door, and the room was drenched in light.

Sitting back down sharply on the toilet, mouth open and generally dumbstruck, he gazed at the picture again.

They must be a good couple of metres high, more so, and had the look of a thief ready to pounce, wrapped safe in the knowledge that they had the only swords on the planet, five springing from each hand.

Not that they needed any weapons as their teeth seemed to be more than adequate for slicing and dicing anybody foolish enough to come near them.

Rex’s stomach lurched and decided he had spent quite enough time looking at the picture.

Gaze moving, he saw another diagram next to the Velociraptor, a larger picture of the Diplodocus and suddenly Rex didn’t feel so bad. In fact the other three pictures, weren’t so terrifying, although the Pterodon’s beak looked a little too narrow and the Stegosaurus’ plates a bit to sharp.

He decided not to worry too much until actually seeing any of the Dinosaurs.

Turning to the bedroom Rex had finally accepted that he was completely exhausted and fully dressed flopped on to the bed. Curling up on top of the bed that night, one thought sprang into his head.

Where was the fifth picture, the one with the Tyrannosaurus?

The second thought that came to his head that evening in the creaking and unfamiliar house, was that he was utterly and totally alone.

That day was often contemplated by Rex. Daydreams were stuffed with the memory and a slight nagging feeling that he should have learnt more from it prevailed. But all this was put aside as Max suddenly moved his head skywards and stood fully erect, breaking Rex’s thoughts and bringing him forward sixteen and a half years.

He grunted a bit and Rex eventually noticed that no conversation had happened since he had got there, nor for the past fifteen minutes or so of scratching at the base of the neck.

“Hello Max”, said Rex

“Hello Rex” said Max