Tooth, the Whole Tooth and Nothing but the Tooth

5: Revelation

I've seen some strange things in my time, most definitely. I suppose most people can say that, though. But me, I've seen some strange things in my time, oh yes. The most recent one, of course, I'm looking at right now. Top left of the screen. I haven't actually taken my eyes off of it since I first saw it, which would be about three hours (or a couple of hundred light years) ago.

You hear about the fact that the Earth is supposed to look beautiful from space, and it does, it really does. Breathtaking doesn't cover it. Of course, now it looks exactly the same as everything else out there, a white dot. If I glanced away, or perhaps even blinked, I'd probably lose it completely. Which is why my eyes are probably bloodshot and sting a little, not having been closed for a galaxy or two.

Maybe the dot I'm looking at isn't the earth anyway. Maybe it's our entire solar system (we are quite far away). But I can dream. I felt homesick as soon as I saw the Earth in all its full glory. The feeling has not diminished so far as I can tell, so I'm content to believe, or at least pretend, that the little white dot, in the top left hand corner of the screen, is the Earth.

And here am I, on board a space ship, or a UFO, or something, whizzing away from my home faster than, well, something very fast indeed. It wouldn't have been so bad, but I didn't even get the chance to say 'Engage', which is something you really must say next time you travel to another galaxy. I don't think that old Jean-Luc could have imagined a ship like this one though, but I'll get to that.

It's that Beryl's fault, of course. Not that she intended on any of this happening, I'm sure of that - or at least fairly certain - ish. I just think her enthusiasm blurs her reason sometimes. Of course I didn't mind helping her out before, when she'd lost her tooth, not that I would have said 'no' to a big, hairy, talking elephant (sorry - Mastodon, she's very sensitive about that), but I honestly didn't mind. She was very nice and very polite. She may have cleaned me out of Hob-Nob biscuits, but she's bound to have a large appetite, and I am rather partial to them myself, so I don't blame her for that.

The thing is, when I told her to 'Come back any time,' I didn't really mean it, and I certainly didn't actually expect her to. If today's Thursday (fasterthanlight travel kind of screws up your days, a bit like having a long weekend does - I could never remember what day it was when I'd had a Friday or a Monday off work), then that would make Beryl's return (or should that be Return - I think it'll sort of stick in my mind as a 'special' day, or at least a memorable one), that would make it Sunday. Less than a week. Time flies by when you're having fun - it doesn't seem much more than about three years.

I think I was pleased to see Beryl when she turned up at my house again. I can't really be sure. It was a mixture of surprise (or astonishment), horror and shock, but somewhere in there was pleasure. So I can say I was pleased to see her. We did get on before, after all. I knew who it was, of course. Maybe not when I was knocked up at two in the morning, although that should have been a hint, but definitely when I couldn't see any street lights through the glass of the front door, or even when the front door was open.

"Ah, Beryl," I yawned as she walked in - I didn't invite her, and she didn't ask to be let in, she just entered, but I didn't argue - of course I wouldn't, would I? "How nice to see you again."

"Why thank you," she replied. I'd forgotten how polite she was.

She followed me into the kitchen - I could have sworn that the door frame breathed in to let her pass, having learned its lesson last time - door frames should not tangle with Mastodons. Of course it could be that I'd had it widened a little when I got it repaired after last time, and it was only my sleep dulled imagination working that made me think the wood was scared of Beryl, but then I was speaking to an animal that should have been extinct two million years ago, so you never know. I automatically put the kettle on.

"Oh, you dear little thing," Beryl exclaimed. "You read my mind. I could kill for a cuppa."

A watched kettle never boils of course, but my mind suddenly blanked except for the single word repeating over and over - 'Boilboilboilboilboil...' I felt silly when it finally clicked off, as Beryl might be big (OK she was huge), but she had never shown any hint of violence. The flush of relief made me a little giddy, all the same.

I made the tea (milk, two sugars) and passed Beryl hers. I saw her eyeing the cupboard where I kept the biscuits, and reached down the biscuit tin for her.

"Oh, custard creams," she said, disappointed.

"Sorry," I apologised. "I never got round to buying any more hob-nobs."

"That's alright," she said, sullenly. "I don't mind really."

It was obvious that she did mind, really, but I refused to be made to feel guilty for not catering for the tastes of every living creature, extinct or not. Next thing you know, I'd be expected to keep rocks in my dining room for grubs to live under, or eucalyptus trees for the odd koala that might chance by. Well, no. I didn't have any hob-nobs and that was that. I went to tell her so.

"Sorry," I repeated.

We sat in silence for a few moments while I sipped my tea, and she gulped hers, and picked out the custard creams one by one, turning them over with her trunk before eating them, as if she hoped they might change form suddenly and become her beloved hob-nobs. Well, she didn't have to eat them, I thought, and I went to tell her so...

"So what brings you back to this neck of the woods?"

Beryl offered the biscuit tin to me. Somehow the thought of a hairy trunk digging around in there put me off. I shook my head. Beryl put it down on the table.

"Well," she began, "you know you asked me about where all the dinosaurs went to?"

I blinked. Had she returned to impart some priceless, earth-shattering piece of life-changing news to me?

"Er... Yes," I answered slowly.

"Well, in kind of a roundabout way, I've come to tell you."

I coughed up the sip of tea I'd just swallowed. When I had stopped gasping (and after a couple of hearty slaps from Beryl's trunk) I said, as casually as I could under the circumstances : "Oh?"

"Yes," she continued. "I sort of need your help again, you see."

I should have known there'd be a catch. Oh, well.

"Go on," I said. I couldn't really say no, could I? She probably didn't have anyone else to turn to - anyone who wouldn't run away screaming, that is.

"Well..." There was a dramatic pause. I leaned forward, holding my breath. "I sort of fibbed a little the last time I was here."

She paused, I prompted : "What do you mean?"

"Well, I said that I didn't know what happened to the other dinosaurs. I told you that, when I came out from where I was trapped, I was alone, and that it was cloudy. Well, that was true. But I did know why."

There's nothing like dragging it out, is there? I wanted to tell her to get to the point, so, of course, I waited for her to continue.

"You know how it is when you humans get tired of the house you live in, or fancy a change, so you sell up and buy another one?"

This was relevant?

"Yes," I said.

"Well, that's how it was for us dinosaurs. Except we don't, er... didn't have houses, and we never saw the point of money." Beryl stopped again. She seemed determined to get the full effect of the forthcoming revelations, if they were ever going to be forthcoming.

"And?" I urged.

"We moved planets," she said.