WhimFairies

2348 BC (1,656 years after the world began and 35,000,000 years after the evolution of the giant ground sloth). Meredith sat in her stall, silently surveying the hulking body of her mate. "Oh dear," said Shem, poking his nose through the wooden slats in the door, "I'm so sorry..." "Just get the Boss, Shem," said Mez. "Of course," he muttered, and scurried off, head bowed. Looking at the spot where Shem's feet had been, Mez saw Val the Komodo out for a morning walk, a bevy of youngsters in tow. Evidently the monitor had played fast and loose with the 'no boning' rule. "Been having fun?" said Mez. The mighty lizard grinned, toxic saliva trailing from its maw. "Mez! How's tricks?" "You know we've limited resources on this boat?" said Mez, "That's why we're not allowed to shag till dry land?" "Oh I haven't," said Val coolly, "parthenogenesis,

1938. Indonesian Archipelago. Tim swam furiously. This was bad. Reaching Coelacanth High Command he rapped on the door with a lobey fin, leaving it there for support while he gasped for breath. "Enter!" came the gravelly response. Less a voice and more a rumble of tectonic plates. Tim did so, seawater still barrelling through his aching gills. There in the tiny office was a desk littered with papers, all weighted down with seashells in the gentle but persistent current, and a yellow-edged world map that covered the back wall. Before it in a high-backed swivel chair sat an ancient, greying mound... "Commander!" Tim wheezed, "One of the West Indians just got picked up in South Africa." The Commander surveyed him through lidless, staring eyes. Wide, but narrowed in spirit. "Say that again," he croaked. "Commander, one of the-" "I HEARD WHAT YOU SAID," roared the Commander, throwing the papers in front of him into