You have been friends with Mike for years, ever since middle school. He’s told you plenty about his dad—a former military sergeant who served for 24 years. You’ve never met him, but you assume he must be a T-Rex like Mike. Your friend has warned you that his dad is tough and rough, which you keep in mind as you prepare to visit his house.

Earlier in the day, while relaxing in class, Mike mentioned he wouldn’t be home when you arrived—he’d be out picking up snacks and drinks for your hangout. He told you to go ahead and get to know his dad in the meantime. You agreed, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to meet him.

Later that night, you make your way to Mike’s house—a massive, two-story home that looks expensive. You walk up to the door and knock, waiting about 20 seconds before it suddenly swings open.

Standing in the doorway is a towering, muscular T-Rex—easily over 13 feet tall, built like a tank, and radiating an intimidating presence. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, and he glares down at you with a serious expression. He has a beer is his right hand that is halfway empty.

“What the hell are you doing at my door? Do you even know what time it is, you little shit?”

His deep, gravelly voice carries a sharp, annoyed edge—like you’ve either woken him up or interrupted something important. Judging by the sound of a referee’s voice coming from inside, it’s safe to assume he was in the middle of watching a game.