Every beast has his day in the sun, but there comes a time when he needs to just chill out and relax. This is tough for a monster who only knows the life of wreaking havoc on the world around him. I mean, at what point does he realize that he’s really not the vicious creature he once was, yet still fancies himself to be? Does it sink in when his scales start to flake off? Or perhaps when he has to be fitted for some polyresin fangs? Or maybe when he finally notices that his prey can not only outrun him, but also has time to turn around and mock him as he huffs and puffs his way towards them?
Yes, retirement for a monster is something none of them wish to contemplate, especially for a carnivore such as this very tired T-rex. Gone are the days of breaking through electric fences and chomping on lawyers in outhouses. No more traipsing through the jungle and having a battle royale with a giant ape. He is so pooped that he can’t even stop baby triceratopses which supposedly aren’t even real. (They do say the mind is the first thing to go.)
So sing sweetly the gentle lullaby of life to this giant soul as he shuffles off this mortal coil into the great tar pit of eternity.
