"Brazil 2001" story # 11

Souza, Paraiba           May 2, 2001

(an epic poem)

Hear ye, hear ye, all who care!
Listen up, hey! Open your ears!
'Tis the captivating tale of the Dinosaur Egg Heist,
taken place one-twenty million years before Christ.
Our story was told in the late Jurassic.
Pay attention! Yeah, you! This one's a classic.

You may bark, "It is nothing! ... You aren't Virgil or Dante!"
But, shut your mouth! Quit talking! And take heed of what I say.
Our hero (if you're ready!) was a nest-headed caveman.
With his coconut necklace, he rightly steered the clan.
He and the others would vagabond along.
"Og Dysseus" they called him, and he sang his caveman song:

"Oog-a-boog-a, oog-a-boog-a, oog-a-boog-a, ugh!
Scooby-dooby, hubba-wubba, noogy-googy, thlug!"

On this day, he'd entered into a dire predicament.
Og wanted ice cream. Of this, he was adamant.
"Marf-a-gork!" he yelled, looking in the fridge.
He could almost make his breakfast; he just needed eggs.
So, with a tummy rumbling, he set off for a walk.
He bouldered up his windows and said, "Umf!" to his pet rock.

His beach-side cave abandoned, Og lumbered on his way.
Four-fifty miles inland, to where the reptiles stayed.
Here, the grass spread light and tall, amidst mountains next to Souza.
(With a word choice like above, I should've written prose-a.)
It was easy to see why it was a Vale dos Dinossauras.
Og felt the peace, warmth, and sun, and he returned to the chorus:

"Ugh-a-bugg-a, ugh-a-bugg-a, ugh-a-bugg-a, gloof!
Muc-a-muck-a, muc-a-muck-a, muc-a-muck-a, floomph!
Splorf-a-didduly, grawk-a-pidduly, morf-a-sphlidduly - GRAWK!
Muc-a-muck-a, muc-a-muck-a ..."

As Og's beat was getting good, up came a brontosaurus,
munching leaves thund'rously, near a plate-backed stegasaurus.
Resting on a distant hill, there sat an armored ankylosaurus.
(Say, rhyming these is easy) - and a horny tricera- whups!
(Oh, dear me, this cursed poetry! I forgot that ended in tops.)
And, within a small, pine forest, dined a duck-billed anatosaurus.

Among these giants, Og hiked quiet, and finally stumbled upon
exactly what he searched for - tracks of an iguanodon.
Pondering the dark, hard mud, the caveman scratched his brow.
One-foot circles with three toes, they stretched thirty meters now.
Fifty-three prints there were, and Og scurried after.
Though the three-ton beast was near, he couldn't contain his soft purr:

"Muc-a-muck-a, muc-a-muck-a ...
RARF! A-garf-uh - Marf! A-garf-uh - Barf! A-garf-uh, Booh!
Rreef! A-geef-uh - Ark! A-gark-uh ... Me, rrrrrant, rrfffoood!"

Og's ideas were not the best, and his song was quite inane.
But it must be said in his defense, his stomach was digesting his brain.
He pressed on for a clearing, where, before him on the path,
a sleek-headed herbivore stood, and Og had drawn its wrath.
The lizard towered tall and hefty, guarding Og's prized eggs.
So, Og seleceted from his bag of clubs, his Iguanodon Sand Wedge.

He wound his arms up wildly and gave the beast's chest his best whomping.
But the dino only blinked unhurt, preparing a deadly stomping.
Sighing, Og collapsed. Just when it seemed that he was beat,
"They don't call me homo erectus for nothing!" he said and jumped to his feet.
He scooped up an egg and sped off without a trace.
He stopped running at a tar pit, to make lunch and celebrate:

"Muc-a-muck-a, muc-a-muck-a, muc-a-muck-a, mug!
Arrgh, arrgh, arrgh, arrgh! Rarr, rarr, rowr, rowr! Og, og, og, og, ugh!"

As Og took his first bite, he looked down and to his horror,
he saw a tyrannosaurus track, and there were several more!
The prints were a foot long and thin, with three sharp toes.
"GRRAWRGH!" roared a young voice from behind. It was one of Og's worst foes.
Claw-like teeth flowed from its mouth. Og let out a scream.
But dino-king hadn't come for Og; he'd come for his ice cream!

Ten-and-a-hundred years later, the t. rex no longer exists.
And, of Og, only descendents, like the Modern Oddyseus.
He came back to these historical parts, recently, in fact,
to place a basball figurine within these dino tracks.
'Twas Dwight Gooden, his hero - none knows quite what this means -
but it proves Og's dumb ideas and bad singing still abound where Oddyseus is seen:

"Muc-a-muck-a, GRARRGH-OOGH, muc-a-muck-a, GRYE!
Barp-a-barp-a, BOHR-GARF, brop-a-broop-a, BYEE!
I'm a caveman. Baddup-bah-baddupaddup ... I'm a caaavemaaan! Baddup-bah-baddupaddup ... Oh, I'm a caaaaavemaaahon!"

The shaggy-haired Oddyseus, of today, was with a guide.
And he asked just if a fossilized egg could have a dino inside.
He asked if it could hatch and grow? Could it live and be?
The dino guide couldn't see why not. It was possible. "Sim."
The whole point of this story is to inform you of the scene.
If you see a dino, stay away! And, for god's sake, guard your ice cream.

(Og say "Umf!")

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