So there's this T-Rex in the middle of the Sorting Room. He is looking around for something to stomp. "Where's the tiny house?" he demands. (He can
totally talk.) "Where's the tiny woman? NOT THAT THERE IS ANY
MISOGYNY IN THIS QUESTION. I am just
used to stomping on a tiny woman and her gender is incidental! ANYWAY I WOULD LIKE TO STOMP ON
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Comments 79
The sound of mental gears grinding was almost audible, and the will to live was visibly fading from Grant's eyes as he read, and therefore visualized, the implications of dinosaur zombie porn.
"Oh my God," was all he could manage.
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The sun might explode and destroy the Earth first.
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"Do you have any merch to go with your game? And if not, are you willing to pay someone--say, some genius purebred Siamese--to market some?"
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Less astute in the ways of marketing than the average feline, T-Rex ventured: "I would split the profits?"
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Wait ...
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"EEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!"
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"Has anyone explained what this place is?"
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"I like you."
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No, Ryuk hasn't seen scary dinosaur movies, why do you ask?
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