Fight Night

by Phil Temples

There’s a good crowd for the fight tonight. Cars and pickup trucks line the long drive from the main road up to my barn. By the looks of it, I’d say we got close to eighty people in attendance. Most of ’em put up bets for the winner.

My oldest son, Kenny, keeps track of admissions and the cash wagers while I mingle with the crowd and greet everyone. My wife, Mabel, and the two daughters —Pricilla and Josephine — handle the concessions. I spent a bit of upfront money to set things up, but it’s a profitable little gig and it complements what the ranch pulls in.

A few of the townsfolk started to fuss a couple of months ago about our Dino Fight Nights and our betting. One even went so far as to contact Sheriff Bud Wesley to file an official complaint. Bud happens to be a standup guy. He’s also my second cousin.

Shortly after the complaint, Bud came out to one of our fights and pronounced that there were no violations that he could see. He told that nosy-body that there were no statutes on the books in either Hot Springs County or the state of Wyoming against it. Cockfighting, sure. Dogfighting, you betcha. But nobody ever heard of any law against betting on dinosaur fighting, probably because there haven’t been any living dinosaurs around these parts for the last sixty million years.

* * *

This portion of Wyoming is thick with dinosaur bones. I read somewhere that we got over 500 million years’ worth of ’em. Wyoming used to be under an inland sea during the Triassic age. It shrank, turning the whole area into a coastal plain. At least that’s what the scientists say. And we’ve got our Wyoming Dinosaur Center right here in Thermopolis. There are all sorts of digs in the county that folks can visit that are within easy driving distance. Next to cattle and sheep ranching, dino tourism is the prob’ly the biggest business we got in these parts.

My dinosaur supplier is Leroy Hennessy, down on Mossy Creek Road. He’s a clever guy and a real schemer. As long as I’ve known Leroy, he’s been involved in some business scheme or another, some better than others.

I still recall him getting me involved in his farm equipment “pyramid scheme.” He called it “AgiWay.” Said it was based on the Amway model. Well, I didn’t find out what that meant until I’d sunk several thousand bucks of my hard-earned money into buying products off of him that I couldn’t move. For the longest time, Mabel didn’t let me live that one down. This time, though, things are different. This Dino Fight project is already turning a small profit. With any luck, it might help me put the kids through college.

* * *

The other day, when Leroy was delivering a couple of young Allosauruses, I asked him, “How are you gettin’ these dinosaurs, anyway?” I just figured Leroy was acting as the middleman for some shady scientific lab somewhere that was cloning them like they did in that movie Jurassic Park.

“If I told you, Dan, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

He thought about it for a moment, then he shrugged his shoulders. Then he proceeds to tell me this cockamamie story that there’s some kind of time portal located on his property. When a person crosses through the portal, they’re transported back tens — even hundreds — of millions of years into the past.

Leroy goes on dinosaur hunts regularly with his brother and a few other trusted hands and brings back juveniles through the portal. I’m not sure I completely believe Leroy, but he seems sincere. I thought for sure the dinosaurs were being grown by scientists. Guess it don’t much matter how he gets them, so long as he’s a reliable supplier.

* * *

Tonight’s fight is shaping up to be one of our more successful evenings. The beer sales are high and the betting is higher than usual. The house — that’d be me, of course — gets a nice percentage of the wagers. I try to bring the excitement to a fever pitch for the final match without letting things get too out of control. For tonight’s extravaganza, I’m pitting a young Allosaurus named “Alley Oop” in a fight against a juvenile Carcharodontosaurus named “Carchie the Devil Dino.”

Some of the guys in the front row are getting a little rowdy.

“Com’on, ya’ scrawny li’l piece of shit! Rip his throat out!” shouts one guy.

“Look at that little chickenshit dino!”

“You’re no devil! Go back and suck on your mommy’s hind teat, Carchie!”

Both species are “apex predators,” but it looks like Alley Oop is having his way with the Devil. The Carcharodontosaurus is clearly outmatched. Carchie is sporting a big gash near his throat; he’s on his last legs and staggers to maintain his balance as blood streams from the wound.

I nod to one of my ranch hands, Pedro, to end the fight. Alley Oop is declared the victor. Then Pedro and another hired hand lasso Alley Oop, and they drag him away to his cage. He’s only half as big as a man, but he puts up one hell of a struggle.

As Kenny begins to distribute the winning proceeds, I walk down to get a closer look at Carchie, but not too close. He’s lying on his side in a pool of his own blood. When he sees me, he turns his head in my general direction and starts snapping his jaws menacingly. Looks like he’s done for. I see my wife and child standing off to the side. Mabel knows what comes next. She shields our youngest’s eyes with her hand.

Then I pull out my pistol and, without hesitation, I put two slugs into the dinosaur’s head. A cheer goes up from the crowd. I don’t relish putting down the critter, no matter how primitive he is. But it’s the humane thing to do.

* * *

I guess it was too good to last.

Some animal-loving wackos from out of town snuck into one of our fight nights. I remember seeing them; they were a couple of twenty-something kids. They didn’t look like they fit in. I didn’t think much about it at the time, seein’ as how we were getting popular by word of mouth and starting to draw in folks from outside of the county.

Those PETA kids secretly took videos of the fight and sent them back to their PETA headquarters. Next thing you know, the federales came around and shut us down. They confiscated my thirteen dinos plus the dinosaur remains I had buried on the property.

The feds also wiretapped my phone, so they knew about Leroy. They raided Leroy’s place and discovered his time portal. They seized all of his property and adjoining farms by eminent domain, national security, or some such crap. Threw him into jail without due process, too. I received a stern warning from the U.S. District Attorney and was let off scot-free after agreeing to sign a non-disclosure agreement.

What can I say? I got taken in again by Leroy and one of his schemes! This time I’m only out about fifteen grand, not as bad as the AgiWay fiasco. But at least I managed to stay out of jail.

Mabel’s never gonna let me live this down.