Tyrannosaurus Toad
[A Bedtime Story sure to compound your Little One's anxieties]
Long ago [before the big freeze] the earth was warmer than it is today; and giant beasties roamed freely from pole to pole. They walked on two legs and sometimes four. Others crawled; else they’d wriggle [and squirm] up from the muck and out of the mire. Still there were those that could fly, and them that could swim, and the seas below and the skies above were bustling with swarms [and schools] of dinosaur as big, if not bigger than the dry herds on land. Some dinosaurs preyed on others as I’m sure you have heard; like
the bigger on the lesser,
and the lesser on the wee. 
Then there were the plant eaters that ate only trees,
and melons, and grasses, and the ferment of bees;
and for the most part these were the largest dinosaurs of all; and the meekest, and the mildest; in fact plant eaters were the gentlest giants ever born [or created if one’s thinking is on par with the norm]. And although a plant-eater might crush you with its mountain sized heel it’d never bite you, or smite you; unless accidentally, with a careless swing of its tail.
A wealth has been dug up; and a massive pile has been written in field books, textbooks, and journals of science about the meat-eating T-Rex
and Raptor; 
about woolly mammoths 
and saber-tooth’s; 
about pterodactyls 
and other fierce fowl; 
about the diversity of the plains 
and the skies; 
about armored rhino’s 
and heeled grazers;
and toed marmosets 
even.
All in all, we have learned that some dinosaurs were big, some were small, some were fast, and others slow. But for the most part they each lived by the code of eat or get eaten.
We can thank
the fossil record 
for what we do know, 
but never has it been shared; not once has it been whispered exactly who was the most revered dinosaur of them all; not until now that is. Yes, you heard me. Grab hold of the railing and steady your foot stool, I am about to tell you WHO was the dinosaurs king.
No. It wasn’t a T-Rex, or any of its bloodthirsty kin. No. Never! Can you imagine him making a quick meal of all of his subjects? T-Rex was a bloody tyrant, he was no king. No, this was a genuine champion of the people … erm … I mean champion of the dinosaur era; a well rounded type, a statesman, a scholar, a fair judge and impartial jury all boiled into one; an unbiased litigator with the patience of Job … ahem … a.k.a. Tyrannosaurus Toad.
Weighing 17 tons, his Majesty the Toad
settled disputes with a flick of his tongue. Whenever litigants argued their cases before him, always one would go free. The condemned party however was swallowed with the same grace as a modern day toad swallows a fly [SLUUUUUUUUUUURP]. And nothing could be fairer aside from the flip of a coin. And one should not argue with an unbiased law.
Unfortunately with great responsibility also comes abuse of power; and power when it is unchecked breeds egotisms, and eccentric-isms, and other –isms of all sorts. And our toad was inoculated against none of them. With time the kingly Toad acquired a taste for litigants and began to swallow both the plaintiff and defendant with much gusto. Alas! He even ate the court stenographer and the bailiff who intervened. Excess and gluttony caused him to swell [and not just with hot wind]; the dinosaurs became increasingly more frightened as their numbers declined, fearful lest he should swallow them all. And believe me, he would have eaten them lock stock and barrel, had they not done something to stop him.
By the light of a dark moon the dinosaurs all got together and planned a royal coup: “Already the tyrant toad is so big we cannot lick it alone, we’d have to lick it together.”
And so dinosaurs the world over united and coming together they licked the toad; and not just any toad, but his majesty, Tyrannosaurus Toad. Listen children: before we advance any further, carry this warning with you. Never, ever lick a toad. It isn’t manly. It’s unsanitary. And it is the one last thing you would ever do.
Perhaps you don’t see the harm in it so just ask any dinosaur you happen to meet. What’s that? They are all dead. I’ve no doubt they are. After licking the toad they caught a pandemic chill [i.e. got sick] and took to bed. And with their passing their former King the Toad was left without a court and he wobbled down to the pond and was never seen again. But come the spring following the thaw, tadpoles appeared in the sea; and not ordinary tadpoles but whales, don’t you see.
I do know this about tadpoles: tadpoles someday will change into frogs [or toads]; and a whale of a tadpole would make a whopper of a toad, especially after swimming around in the sea for a million years or so. Yes sir … that is why [I implore you] should you ever find a giant whale beached on the shore. Make haste … gather you a host of volunteers and roll it back into the sea
before it absorbs its tail and sprouts gangly legs.
I do not joke. We must be ever vigilant my friend. Else the tadpoles will escape to the land and we’ll be up to our armpits in Tyrannosaurus Toads;
Giant, obnoxious, gluttonous toads that will appoint themselves Kings, or Tsars, or [Heaven forbid] our personal shepherds; and they will swallow us up one by one because to them we are no bigger than houseflies; SLUUUUUUUURP! But then, of course by day’s end we could always put aside our own petty disputes and agree to get together and lick ‘em as we exit the stage, just the way the dinosaurs did, eh? And chase ‘em right back to the pond.
THE END
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