Chapter 5
T-Rex Auditions
A Tyrannosaurus Rex, inexplicably drawn to Hollywood, attempts to audition for a film role. Thorne and Rexy must navigate the bizarre scene, Thorne documenting, Rexy filming.
The stench of ozone and something vaguely reptilian hung thick in the air, a perfume of pandemonium that had become the unfortunate signature scent of Los Angeles. Dr. Aris Thorne adjusted his spectacles, a purely habitual gesture that did nothing to improve his view of the colossal, scaly absurdity unfolding before him. A Tyrannosaurus Rex, its massive head adorned with a surprisingly jaunty, albeit slightly singed, fedora, was attempting to deliver a dramatic monologue to a terrified casting director cowering behind a flimsy folding table.
“And I say… I SAY… that the true villain… is… internal conflict!” the T-Rex boomed, its voice a gravelly rumble that vibrated the very bones in Thorne’s spine. It punctuated its statement with a surprisingly delicate, though still devastatingly powerful, gesture of one clawed forelimb.
“Cut! Cut! Oh, for the love of… Mr. Rex, darling,” the casting director, a man named Bartholomew Butterfield whose thinning hair seemed to be actively fleeing his scalp, stammered, his voice a thin reedy squeak against the reptilian baritone. “That was… very… visceral. But perhaps a little less… eating the scenery? We’re aiming for nuance here, not a literal consumption of the set.”
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