Our story begins not long after the primordial ooze had settled. Of course, in the eyes of the cosmos, that moment might as well be any time on our spinning green and blue orb. To the universe, the rise and fall of any specie, no matter how prodigious or influential, is no longer than a hiccup. What could possibly be of interest on this puissant disc hovering in space?
Perhaps this is why history never gets a particularly good reputation amongst young learners. Nothing interesting has ever happened, and it probably never will. I’ve thankfully addressed this complaint in my upcoming history textbook Entertain-ucation: Events Before the Advent of Television. The whimsical stories and delightful characters inserted into our favorite time periods will hopefully allow schoolteachers to shut their students up, if for just a moment, and enjoy a relaxing menthol cigarette outside the fire exit (I’m a philanthropist at heart).
I am proud to present to you a passage from the Prehistoric section of the text (which I assure you is quite thin and laced liberally with pictures). It is titled, “A Sticky Situation.”
One day, about 65 million years ago, Sammy the Tyrannosaurus Rex strode into a clearing on his two enormous hind legs. His tiny forearms, useless for hunting prey due to their size, waved comically through the air. While Sammy was not the brightest of the dinosaurs, his leathery skin featured unique faded strips of blue, red, and white running along his body. He was proud of both his colors and his massive size, which made Sammy veritable king of the jungle.
Sam was standing near a vast tar pit, which bubbled hot, sticky, black residue from its surface. Aside from a small strip of land encircling the pit (on which Sammy stood), the area was surrounded by dense prehistoric jungle.
Sammy’s miniscule brain kicked into action, and he stooped to examine the tar pit. The sizable beast was a bit disenchanted; Sammy hadn’t managed to find food in the past few days, and the other dinosaurs were starting to lose respect for the T-Rex. He needed to show them he was still the best dinosaur around. Perhaps the pool would yield some tasty fish. Sammy stooped and sniffed at the broiling substance before him. “Can this be food?” he pondered within the tight recesses of his mind. “Can Sammy…eat?”
Since Sammy was occupied with the tar pit, he didn’t realize that he was being watched. From within the tree line on the opposite side of the clearing, a Velociraptor crouched out of sight, rubbing his retractable killing claws against the ground in anticipation. Chansley, the disagreeable Raptor, had been friends with Sammy in the past, but was starting to get fed up with the brute’s lack of initiative.
“That Sammy the T-Rex thinks he’s so great,” he cackled to himself. “He runs the whole jungle, but it’s time to show him who should be in charge. I’m ten times better than that oversized dunce!”
With that, Chansley leapt nimbly into the clearing, using his long tail to stabilize his landing. Sammy looked up from across the pit, startled, and recognized the Velociraptor.
“Chansley!” he cried with a toothy grin. “What’re you doing way out here? I was just clearing some brush, and stopped here to see if I could get some grub out of this here bubbly pool and—”
Chansley glowered at Sammy, eyeing his colorful stripes. Then, a terrible idea began to brew within his dark soul, an idea that would get rid of the T-Rex once and for all.
“Sammy,” he called across the oozing tar pit. “I was at this same lake just a few days ago, and I can tell you it’s stocked with the biggest, most delicious fish you’ll ever find!”
Sammy peered closely at the bubbling substance. “I can’t see any fish in there. It seems kinda dirty, Chansley. I don’t know about this.”
“Nonsense! I’m telling you there are fish in there. It doesn’t matter if you can’t see them, just jump in and they’ll be there. When have I ever been wrong?”
The Tyrannosaurus was about to heed the advice when, across the pond, a monstrous Brachiosaurus lumbered into the clearing. His long neck held his head above the towering trees, and the tiny berm of land surrounding the tar pit barely held his mammoth body.
Chansley could see that the Brachiosaurus was Libby, the only dinosaur he hated more than poor Sammy. He despised the way Libby pranced through the jungle, munching on vegetables and building shelters for small mammals. In Chansley’s opinion, Libby and his cohorts were no more than glorified peaceniks who were destroying the dinosaur way of life.
Libby slowly rotated his head to face Sammy. “Say, Sammy,” he said in a deliberate, lazy drawl. “Don’t you think you ought to look before you leap?”
Sammy tried to scratch his head pensively, but realized that his tiny forearms forbade it. Chansley, on the other hand, was wasting no time moving around the pit to Libby. His lightning speed allowed him to reach the hulking beast in no time, and his hooked claw tearing into Libby caused the Brachiosaurus to retreat into the jungle from whence he came.
“Say, Chansley,” called Sammy. “What’d you do that to Libby for?”
Chansley swung around, his reptilian eyes blazing with anger. “Just do what I tell you and stop asking questions, you buffoon!” he screamed.
So Sammy leapt out into the tar pit as far as his legs could carry him. The hot tar seared his red, white, and blue tinged hide, and his bulk sent him to the bottom of the pit within mere seconds. There, Sammy had only a few moments of regret before he was sealed forever beneath the earth.
And that’s where fossil fuels came from.
