This was back in the days when all fauna were megafauna. An armadillo and sloth stood around talking to each other. Both were the size of modern-day elephants.
“This tough shell gives me some protection against predators, but not nearly enough,” said the armadillo.
“I don’t have a tough shell,” sighed the sloth, “but that would be nice. I just have a soft pelt. I have sharp claws, but I’ve adopted nonviolence as a life strategy. I enjoy foraging in trees for food, but I’ve primarily been forced underground. I scrape out large caves now for myself and my family.”
“That sucks,” said the armadillo. “Which part?” “The caves? I don’t know, maybe all of it?” Both megafaunas were tired of the apex predators and their razor-sharp teeth. They were tired of constantly living on edge and the resultant spikes in blood pressure that accompanied such anxiety. Both had lost friends and family to apex predators, and these wounds still festered.
“I’m no match for a T-Rex,” said the sloth. “I think I’ll just shrink down so I’m no longer mega, slow myself way down, I mean super-slow, and climb up into trees to sleep. I’ll sleep so much horrible smelling moss will grow on my fur. I’ll smell so gross that predators will leave me alone. They’ll think I’m just some disgusting outgrowth of the tree. I enjoy the tops of trees, how the breeze plays through my pelt. My food source, leaves, will be near at hand since I’m a herbivore. Tourists will point up into the trees when they spot me and congratulate themselves but will otherwise leave me alone, except for zookeepers.”
“What about snakes?” said the armadillo. “Snakes can be an issue. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. What about you?” The armadillo pondered for a moment. “I like your notion of shrinking way down and not being mega anymore. I might steal that idea. Mega hasn’t done our kind any favors. It just makes us a bigger target for the apex predators.”
“Will you still keep your hard shell?” asked the elephant-sized sloth.
“Yeah, why not? I mean, it can definitely be helpful. Otherwise, we’re basically diseased rats. I think we’ll live primarily in modern-day Texas, and we’ll always try to cross busy roads against traffic.”
“That doesn’t seem wise,” the sloth said. “Traffic: the apex predator of the future, am I right? You should try living in trees. Not much traffic up there. You know, when animals like apex predators die, their bodies decompose and eventually become fossil fuels, which are burned to fuel cars.”
“Huh,” said the armadillo. “I guess you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.” Then they heard the fearsome cry of a T-Rex and hustled to the nearest hiding spot.
I live in Urbandale, Iowa with my wife and kids. I earned an MA in creative writing from Iowa State University in 2002 and an MFA in creative writing from Penn State University in 2006. I’ve worked in the financial services industry ever since.
Poems of mine have appeared in New Orleans Review, Indiana Review, Boston Review, Subtropics, Willow Springs, Hayden’s Ferry Review, and Sonora Review. My fiction has appeared in Quarterly West, Crazyhorse, Cutbank, Arts & Letters, Washington Square, North American Review, and the Best New American Voices anthology. I am the recipient of an AWP Intro Journals award, numerous Pushcart Prize nominations, and my fiction manuscript was a past finalist in the Flannery O’Connor Award competition.
Euphony Journal 