Th’assembled diggers and their kin were moved,

A hush fell o’er the people, science proved,

Except one voice, a child’s, broke the air:

“That creature’s not a reason to be scared.”

At this were Alan’s shoulders drawn up tight,

The words upon his ears like fire alight,

“That kid’s a pistol,” someone in the crowd

Said then aside, a joke not made too loud.

The people parted, Alan turned to see

The source of this pugnacious mockery:

A stocky lad, not yet of teenage years

Squared shoulders then with Grant; betrayed no fears;

From under denim cap and in striped shirt,

The kid made then his stand amid the dirt:

“More like a six-foot turkey,” did he crack,

Head cocked, not cutting Alan any slack.

The laughter then returned ‘mong Alan’s peers,

Their worshipful regard now sideways leers,

And Dr. Grant regrouped: he hung his head

And grinned; “A turkey, huh” he hotly said.

With hands on hips, decided he to rid

The confidence right out of this dumb kid.

It rose from him like heat, his rising ire,

‘Twas evident to Ellie what’d transpire;

She laughed a nervous laugh and shook her head,

“Oh no,” she lightly emanated dread.

Two paces after Grant, with arms all crossed,

She knew hope for civility was lost.

Then Alan, recomposed, proposed a thought

As, teaching, strode he calmly toward the tot:



“Young man, indulge me, try to place yourself

You stand upon this continental shelf

In the Cretaceous period, long ago;

You stand here, in your hat and shirt and, lo,

You glimpse this six foot turkey, your first time,

In a forest clearing, foliage sublime.

His movements like a bird, impress you first:

He bobs his head while walking, as rehearsed,

And you keep still because you think perchance

His vision’s based on movement, unenhanced,

Like T. Rex’s so famously is based;

You plant your feet and firm your doughy face.”

Now Grant, in regal pose, stood ‘fore the kid,

At last looked up and met his eyes as ‘e did,

“You think he’ll lose you if you’d just be still,

But, no. Velociraptor’s eyes are skilled.

You look at him, he looks right back at you.

He sees you, standing there, his gaze cuts through.

It’s then that the attack begins sincere;

Not from the front - the one you see - my dear,

But from the sides,” (here Alan’s smile unlaced -

He rushed two fingers t’gether ‘fore kiddo’s face),

“The pair of raptors you didn’t know were there

Have dashed from left and right, caught unaware

Your monkey form within their pinch attack:

Velociraptor hunts in family packs.”



Now Alan paced as th’ child winced and swallowed.

Behind the kid, who craned his neck to follow,

As Alan talked, his hand in pocket reached,

Producing he the raptor claw, sun-bleached

And wielding it within his workman’s hand

As round the front of th’ kid again he’d stand:

“Coordinated patterns of attack

Are tricky, but the raptor had the knack,

And on this day, of all days, young main course

Velociraptor’s hunting out in force.

When he begins to slash, it’s done with this,”

Said Grant, displaying th’ claw gripped in his fist.

The pre-teen’s eyes grew goggled at the sight,

His face and slouch betraying mortal fright

As Grant pressed on, “This six-inch claw, you see,

Retractable as it is, is raptor’s key.

It’s razorlike, on raptor’s middle toe;

He wouldn’t stop to bite your neck, you know,

Or kill you ere the meal for them begins;

Just slashing with this claw his own way in.

Perhaps he’d start right here,” Grant bent to show

With slashing move the claw across his foe.

He scratched the claw across the child’s chest;

Again across the child’s thighs he pressed.

“Or maybe raptor’d cut your belly wide,

To spill your guts all over your outside.

The point is, matters not where cuts the beast:

You are alive when raptor starts his feast.”

With pallor then the kid gulped down his neck,

As Alan’d add “So, try to show respect.”

“Ok,” the child whispered, nodding awed

As if he’d witnessed then the wrath of God,

And Alan, too, was nodding, smiling back,

So satisfied was he with his attack;

His hands on knees, his lesson hitting home,

He turned and stood back up ere off he’d roam.

The kid scanned the horizon, then, all changed,

Embarrassed, thankful, rid of th’ man deranged.

The kid in this scene might be the most hated character in the movie? Like, worse than Nedry. At least Nedry has life skills and a sense of humor. This kid is just a jerk. So, here we see how Dr. Grant deals with jerks.

This is an excerpt from a book I'm working on called Park Jurassica. It's going to be an epic poem adaptation of Jurassic Park. The whole thing. Obviously it's still a work in progress but I thought you all would enjoy a sneak peek.

Feel free, of course, to forward this or tweet this to the Jurassic Park superfans in your life. I live for virality, just like any other red-blooded capitalist American.

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That's it. Thanks for reading.

This is Phil.