I used to be terrified of Tyrannosaurus Rex.
Correction, I’m absolutely petrified of T-Rex and everything associated with that savage, prehistoric beast.
It all started with goddamn Jurassic Park. I watched that movie when I was eight years old, and the image of that poor man being swallowed whole while on the toilet was just too much for me to handle.
Prior to Jurassic Park, I loved dinosaurs. The Land Before Time was my favourite movie, and I wanted a pet Brontosaurus. I’d draw Little Foot everywhere; it was adorable and maybe psychotic.
But after Jurassic Park, the nightmares started. Night after night, I was being stalked by a massive T-Rex. He was tearing up my neighbourhood, eating everything in his path and showing no mercy. I’d wake up sweating and crying, imbued with the reality that I could never actually face this fear.
Then, ‘lo and behold, I was thrilled and terrified to discover the giant Animatronic T-Rex waiting for me when visiting London’s Natural History Museum in 2007! There was my opportunity to move on with my life, at long last! It even had foul smelling dinosaur breath! Oh the insanity!
Sharp-Tooth.
My meeting with T-Rex was anticlimactic. I mean, he was cool, but he kinda just swayed back and forth with his tiny little arms and his big menacing mouth. I stared that fear right in the eye, and I conquered it.
This was a time when I believed in hair perms and not exercising.
Even now, when I catch a glimpse of the movie, I’ll dream about it. I’m taking an extreme gamble just writing this post, my friends, because I may be awoken in the middle of the night with the image of T-Rex breathing down my neck. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take for my fans.
