I’m just your average ginormous, man-made, mutant dinosaur, but I feel pretty confident in saying that no one like me exists. I’m unique, a special snowflake. I made sure of that when I ate my only sibling. Looking for love in a world of hunger and violence. To be clear, I excel at hunger and violence as well. I’m a skilled individual. Don’t try to put me or my ambitions in a cage.
I really can’t overemphasize how intimidating I am as a physical being.
I love exploring the great outdoors, going for long walks past the carcasses of my enemies, annihilating everything in my path (except our blossoming love, of course), napping with one eye always ready to open in case of imminent danger (although let’s be real, there’s no imminent danger that I can’t best), writing poetry, eating pretty much anything that moves, and dancing hip hop. I don’t watch too much TV or movies, but I’m always open to new experiences, especially if they involve death and destruction. I’d love to try stand-up at some point, but I feel like I need to build up some more confidence first.
Chasing things and eventually destroying them, mainly. It’s a full-time gig but has really flexible hours, which is nice even if it means I occasionally work nights.
Probably the fact that I don’t have many real friends. No one seems to stick around me long enough to get to know me that well. Also, one of the spikes on my back is kind of weirdly shaped, and it’s like — yeah, I know probably no one else notices, and it’s such a small thing, but honestly it really brings me down some days.
Maybe once I find someone who can truly see how beautiful I am, that will go away, but for now I’m just going to be that person for a bit longer who’s always asking “are you sure this camouflaged skin color doesn’t make my spike look weird?” Plus, have you seen that Owen Grady dude? Everyone always fawns over him and his human muscles, and it’s pretty exhausting to be seen alongside his physical perfection all the time.
“Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye.” — H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
You’d Never Guess That… :
I know every word to song from every Backstreet Boys album by heart. Even though I wasn’t around in the 90s, I somehow feel this intense personal connection to the decade as a whole—not really sure why. But the Backstreet Boys always really spoke to me. “Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely” makes me cry every time. I swear they’re writing about my life.
The whole “made in a test tube” thing has really impacted my views on reproduction. I’m not sure I’d want my own kids to have the same experience as me. Growing up as a hybrid of some really strange species has presented its difficulties, and I’d rather not feel that sort of responsibility for my kids. Basically, I’m open to the idea of bringing a little mini-me or two into the world, but it’s a tough subject. As for pets, I love animals but I end up accidentally ingesting many of them. So that’s probably not a good idea.
As someone who makes a career out of the destruction of others, I try to take care not to destroy my own body. Even though I tend to kill everything in my path, I’m very careful with what I actually eat. You wouldn’t believe some of the toxins in your average triceratops! Also, I figure that I have enough vices as is—namely, the aforementioned murder-based career. So no, I don’t smoke or drink. I live in an area with a lot of trees, too, and I feel like I’d accidentally burn down the entire island if I started smoking. It’s just the sort of thing that happens to me all the time, you know?
As for drinking, I generally prefer to be in full possession of all my faculties at all times. I have a lot of people who aren’t exactly fans of mine, and if I were to get drunk and make even more bad decisions, they’d probably take advantage of my weakness to take me down. I’m okay with pot, though.
As a direct product of mankind’s arrogant attempts to control the natural world, I’m understandably skeptical about any and every set of beliefs. Every philosophy has the potential to turn sour or even evil in some way. I usually stay quiet about this sort of thing as a result, but I will say that I’ve found an odd sort of comfort in Catholicism. As someone who’s made a lot of mistakes in my life, it’s freeing to be able to go to confession and feel some sort of absolution for the incredible tragedies that seem to follow in my wake. Communion doesn’t usually work out so well for me though.
We start at a nice restaurant, maybe some tasty sushi for you and some tasty sous chefs for me. After staying long enough that the other customers are quaking in fear and some major property damage has ensued, we’ll move on to a bar. If you’re into dancing, then we can find a place that’s large enough to accommodate my massive physical presence. I might take out a few people by accident though, just warning you.
If you’re still feeling it, we can go back to my place—I live in this huge jungle that probably has as much square footage as the entirety of Brooklyn. No wifi yet, unfortunately. Actually, no electricity at all; I’ve tried and tried to find the breakers but I think all the wiring is down in some shed that I haven’t been able to get into because of my inordinately large body. But it’s still a cool place to call home. Anyway, I like to think that I’m flexible. Really, despite everything you’d guess from my intimidating appearance and horrifying actions, I just want someone to accept me as the terrifying monstrosity I am.