Mastadon Park

Ronald was sitting alone at lunch, minding his own beeswax when out of nowhere a shadow loomed over him. He looked up slowly, looking first at the other person's feet and then their legs and torso all the way up to their face. At first he couldn't see the face, for it was cloaked in the shadow of a wide brimmed hat, but then it all became very clear.

Standing before him was Greg Bailey, dressed in an immaculate white suit, leaning on a cane made entirely of ivory. He was wearing a monocle, as was his wont. Ronald wasn't sure which emotion to display, he was feeling so many. He decided on surprise.

"Greg Bailey! What are you doing here in Siberia at my excavation site?"

"Ronald, my darling. It has been so long. How are the children? And your lovely wife...What was her name?" Greg Bailey's voice was nasally and sing-songy, but firm and resolute all at once. It was like molasses poured over the booming thunder of the heavens.

"Eidelyn Gonzalez Ronaldwife." Ronald's heart became tight with sorrow, "Yes, she caught the fever a few years back. She took sick and died. They said...They said she died real peaceful." Ronald winced back the tears, he had never liked Greg Bailey, not even when they were room-mates in grad school, and wouldn't let him see his emotion.

To his surprise Greg knelt to the snow, pulling out an embroiderd kerchief. "Here you are old boy, I didn't mean to re-open old wounds. I'm here to offer you a proposition."

"What do I want with your propositions? I don't need anything but this mastadon skeleton we're uncovering. It's gonna be off the hook, like DJ Kool Herc was in the early breakin' scene."

"Oh I have no doubt about that. But I want you to think outside the box. I want you to-by the by, would you care for some turkish delight?" Greg reached into his deep pockets and pulled some out.

Ronald's eyes were alight. "Would I?!" He gobbled it up faster than Twista could rhyme, which was really fast, for anyone remotely in the know.

"I think it would be in your best interest to come with me Ronald. I have a chopper standing by. A mastadon skeleton is all well and good, but did you ever want to see a REAL mastadon?"

Ronald's eyes were alight. "Did I!?"

Greg Bailey smiled and clutched his ivory cane tight. "Lets get on the chopper."

Later, after a nauseating chopper ride, Ronald found himself at a castle that Greg Bailey presumably owned. He sure acted like he owned it, strutting here and strutting there, shoving here, and shoving there. They walked down long dim halls, lit only by flickering torches. There was a red carpet going through all these halls, and the floor was tiled like a chessboard. There were suits of armor and portraits of Greg Bailey's ancestors all over the place.

"This is Castle Bailey, home of my ancestors throughout the generations," Greg declared in tones that broked no argument.

"It's lovely," Ronald stammered, wondering when he would get to see a real mastadon, "But I'm wondering when I'm going to see a real mastadon."

"Oh yes," Greg Bailey smiled, twirling his cane, "That. I assume you are familiar with the movie Jurassic Park."

"I've only seen it like 20 times," Ronald said proudly, "I even did a Jurassic Park play in summer camp."

"I'm pretty sure that was someone else." Greg Bailey pointed out. "Oh, look, here comes the rest of the team."

A mismatched crew entered the room they were in, which was still in Castle Bailey, in case anyone forgot. A guy all in black, with a pompous attitude introduced himself, "Pleased to meet you, I'm Eric Ventimiglia, mathematecian, inventor of the Chaos theory." Ronald took his hand and shook it.

Then there was a shabby looking lawyer. "Salutations, I'm Arlen Specter. I'm a senator. No one from any political party likes me, but I guess that's my own goddamned fault."

The last two members of the party were two children, twins by the look of them. "And these are my incorrigible nephews," Greg Bailey said, when they made no move to introduce themselves, "Anthony and Michael Evans. They are just shy, bless their hearts, don't take their silence as any sign of possible malfeasence."

Greg Bailey bent to tie his shoe and both Michael and Anthony promptly flipped off Ronald. Ronald reached for his kill club, but Greg Bailey was done tying his shoe by then.

"So, when are we going to see this miracle of science Greg Bailey?" Senator Arlen Specter (R-Pennsylvania) asked, sarcastically.

"Soon, Arlen, soon. In fact..." He smiled, while adjusting the Blount patch on his white suit, "How about now?"

Greg Bailey led the party down a long hall. At the end of the hall was a massive doorway, guarded by two ninjas. "Do you know that we just had an attack at our gates not too long ago? Luckily my ninjas cut them down."

"You don't say?" Eric Ventimiglia said, eyeing Ronald apprasingly. Ronald tried to ignore the stare.

"Anyway, through those doors. You've never seen anything quite like it before." Greg motioned to the ninjas and they pulled open the doors and a blinding white light blinded them all with whiteness for a moment. The party paused at the door, unable to move on, until Greg Bailey took them all by the hand and guided them through.

When Ronald's eyes finally adjusted they widened in surprise, even though he must have known what he would be seeing. Instead of another room in this stuffy old caste it looked like idyllic beautiful white tundra. And they weren't alone. The place was crawling with huge lumbering elephant like mastadons. Tears froze in Ronald's eyes.

Greg Bailey favored them with his most sincere smile, "Welcome...To Mastadon Park."

"Oh my god, we're going to make a fortune on this place," Arlen Specter said under his breath, which was quite taken away by the sight of so many free roving mastadons.

"God creates mastadons. God destroys mastadons. God creates man. Man destroys God. Man creates mastadons..." Eric Ventimiglia was uttering when he stopped abruptly.

"Anthony or Michael destroy Eric!" Anthony or Michael shouted, as they pushed Eric's lifeless form off the saber that presently impaled him.

Ronald spun around, in a sudden panic. What was going on???

"What's the meaning of this Greg Bailey?" Arlen Specter roared, looking at Eric's corpse, including the fishnet stockings he wore on his corpse arms.

"Oh, don't be such a pill, Arlen." Greg turned away from the moderate Republican's gaze and faced Ronald, "There they are Ronald. Your mastadons. I did this for you. Go. Run with them."

Ronald watched out of the corner of his eye and Anthony and Michael slaughtered Arlen Specter with scimitars.

"Go, Ronald. Be free."

Ronald nodded. On all fours he began loping over to the mastadons, he felt the wind in his hair and fell into a trot. As he ran he slowly became more and more mastadon like.

Greg Bailey watched it all with a smirk. Anthony and Michael stood close behind him. "I don't understand." One of them said, he wasn't sure which was which sometimes, "You said we were supposed to kill all the great mastadon experts in the world. Why let that one go?"

"Just leave him be, boys." Greg Bailey said, "He's gone home now."

Just then Jason Jason flew in on his dragon, nearly crushing all the mastadons, but after inadvertantly killing so many people he had taken a dragon flying course and now was a much better dragon pilot.

And Ronald lived happily ever after.