David Halliday - Pterodactyls!

What more is there to be said? A pointless and bizarre love took the Pterodactyl to its pointless and bizarre end. A story that is thematically all too common.

Tommy Lee Jones and Woody Allen were in the media constantly for the following month. Without knowing what City Hall’s official stance on the issue should be, Mayor Bloomberg offered them both keys to the city. Without knowing whether it warranted the move, they accepted on the proviso that the ceremony was closed to public and press.

No one particularly felt any pride about what had ensued that autumn; no one was really sure what to feel, but there was the nagging feeling that perhaps the death of the prehistoric beast was a grand and terrible thing. Its love was never discovered, and so the sharpness of the actual tragedy was never recognised. The other nine pterodactyls did not stay long. The death of one of their number did not go unnoticed. They were spotted over the city for several days after the tragedy; and then they were simply gone. And no one knew whether it was cause for celebration or mourning, or how heartbreaking a move this was for them. Witnesses last heard the pterodactyls screeching over Long Island Sound, then they were heard no more. With the beasts gone, it was as though the residents of NYC had awoken from a dream, blearily confused, looking to one another for reference points. Then life continued, indifferent and chaotic, and no one could explain anything.