Earlier in the year I was in a play called Rageface by Adam Goodall.

To raise money for said play, he used the crowd funding site Pledgeme. It’s really cool. Because I pledged some money, Mr Goodall wrote me a piece of fan fiction as a reward. It is too good not to share. So here it is:


“Hey, John!”

Jackson sprinted his way through to the staffroom, where John Hammond, CEO of Jurassic Park Daycare, was having a bit of a nap. His straw hat rested neatly on his face, his white-clad stomach rising and falling with his snores. He was a snappy dresser, that Hammond, but not a particularly practical one for running a dinosaur daycare.

“John, wake up!”

Hammond jolted awake, almost falling off his chair. He picked his straw hat off the ground and peered through his round spectacles at his earnest blonde coworker.

“What is it, Mr Wood?”

Jackson was out of breath, but managed to get the important information out between puffs. “The baby raptors have gone missing, John!”

“Oh,” John replied, “is that all?”

“This is big!” Jackson was terrified. “It’s four-thirty, and we know that the raptor parents arrive to pick up their kids at five! What if they find out we’ve lost them?”

John suddenly understood the gravity of the situation. He pushed himself onto his feet, grabbed his cane with the amber tip and hobbled over to the emergency phone. He picked it up and dialled ‘nine’.

“Hello?” John said in to the phone, his voice wobbling. “Get me the truancy officers.”


“So what’s the situation with these wonderful creatures?”

Dr Alan Grant, head truancy officer for the Isla Sorna region, was at the wheel of the grey and green SUV. His associates, Dr Ellie Sattler and Dr Ian Malcolm, sat in the back of the car.

“They broke out of the daycare – cut their way through the netting. We’ve got thirty minutes to find them,” Jackson shouted as he jumped into the front passenger’s seat. “Their parents are going to be so angry if we don’t.”

“They weren’t ill or sad?” Ellie asked, concerned. “Baby raptors have a tendency to act out when they’re feeling bad.”

“Not as far as we know,” Jackson replied. “They were having a great time in the lamb pit when I left them at twelve-thirty.”

“Well I guess it’s chaos theory,” Ian added, purring and growling in a way that resembled a laugh but wasn’t quite there yet.

“Now’s not the time for jokes, Ian,” Alan said, scanning the sides of the roads for any clues. “Now, they travel in packs, but they always fan out – what was it Dr Murdoch said?”

“If you see one, the rest of them are flanking you and you won’t notice until too late,” Jackson recited from Clever Girls and Intelligent Boys: Teaching Dinosaurs in Age ofModernity, the textbook by Dr Murdoch that formed an integral part of the educator’s standard curriculum.

“That’s precisely right,” Ellie continued, “but the younger raptors haven’t been able to learn advanced flanking techniques and are still developing their understanding of the basics, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find them all at once. Is there anything they might want to see?”

“One of the parents mentioned that their kids were really disappointed because The Wulagasauruses were playing a public concert today and, well, their parents needed to leave them here,” Jackson recalled. “They’re really big fans of their unique brand of dance-pop for baby dinosaurs, particularly the carnivores.”

“I think you’ve found your answer,” Ian said, smirking. “Entertainment finds a way.”

“Where’s the concert?” asked Alan.

“Isla Nublar.”

“We’ll see them off at the docks, then.” Alan did a U-turn and the electric SUV lumbered towards the docks.


Dock-master Dennis Nedry’s beady little eyes narrowed. He stared down his frameless glasses at the truancy officers and Jackson, exuding arrogance. “Why should I tell you what customers we’ve had through?” Nedry sneered. All the educational professionals on the island hated him – as long as the kids had five dollars, he’d let them go anywhere without so much as thinking about contacting the authorities.

“You’re under a legal obligation to tell us where the children are, Nedry,” Alan said, exasperated.

“Nah-uh-uh, I know my rights,” Nedry fired back, waggling his finger at the handsome, denim shirt-wearing officer.

“Then you’ll also know we can jail you for endangering dinosaur children, what with all the video and eyewitness evidence we’ve collected of you letting underage dinosaurs onto your boats during school hours.” Ellie wasn’t taking anymore of Nedry’s sass, and Nedry knew it.

“You…didn’t say the…magic word,” Nedry replied, drained of his self-righteous smugness.

“Get a load of this guy,” Malcolm said to no-one in particular, purring and growling.

“Show us where they are,” Jackson ordered, stepping towards the portly man in the terrible Hawaiian shirt. Nedry shrunk back, intimidated.

“They’re down near the boats, the next one leaves in five minutes and they’re about to get on.”

Jackson grabbed Nedry and brought his face right close to his. He held Nedry’s terrified stare for a few seconds, glaring at him like no-one had before. Then, he patted him on his shoulder and pushed him back. “Thanks, Dennis,” he said, his voice cold. “That’s just what we needed to know.”

As Jackson and the officers walked down to the boats to collect the kids, Nedry swore again that he’d get off this damn island someday.


“No, thank you, Mr Nathus. You have a good day and please – make sure your kids get to The Walugusauruses this weekend, they’ve been going on about it all day! Haha, you too.” Jackson waved off the final raptor family before going back inside to the office, where Hammond and the officers were all having a drink – and Alan was lecturing Hammond on security.

“John, this isn’t the first problem we’ve had with your daycare – you need to make stronger netting, even think about concrete.”

“I don’t want the children to think they’re locked in, though, Dr Grant! I want them to run free–”

“They’re children, John,” Ellie interjected. “They need rules and limits. You can let them run free but only to a point before you start endangering them.”

“I guess you’re right,” Hammond replied, dejected. “I’ll start looking into alternative fencing tomorrow.”

Hammond turned to Jackson and smiled. “I guess I owe you an apology – and thanks. You’re such an asset to this daycare, Jackson. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Jackson shrugged and grabbed a drink. “Well, maybe we should think about playing God for these kids a little more, huh?”

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