It was a terrible idea to write a story about a dinosaur as my college entrance essays; so naturally, that's exactly what I did. Below was the dumbest, riskiest thing I've ever done that worked out.
To be fair, nothing changes your life like discovering and befriending a dinosaur.
More precisely, my dinosaur pal is a velociraptor named Alphonse. Alphonse is quite an interesting fellow in a number of aspects. While there’s the obvious point of interest that he is a remainder of a species thought to be long extinct, that may yet be the most normal thing about him. Alphonse is an extremely talented, well mannered, educated, and loyal friend with many refined hobbies.
I met Alphonse one day while doing an undercover mission for the Central Intelligence Agency. Alphonse was one of about sixty velociraptors I encountered during my mission, and though I wish I could speak more about it, I’m not at liberty to reveal details about my line of work. Alphonse was particularly fond of the watch I was wearing at the time. This caused him to start a quest to seek me out and ask me where I had purchased my watch. Apparently, velociraptors are incredibly resourceful, as proven by the ease he had in booking an airplane ticket and somehow getting through the check-in.
Alphonse had found me in my local mall some months later as I had stopped to rest and eat a tuna fish sandwich at one of the food courts. Courteously and unobtrusively, through a series of claw and tail motions with a few squawks, he had asked if I would mind his company over lunch. Well, it’s not every day that you happen across a velociraptor that can communicate courteously and eat with you, so I of course joyfully accepted his offer to dine together.
I had learned through his astonishing use of sign language that he was fond of classical music. He appeared to understand English perfectly, making it a quite natural conversation. I truly enjoyed talking to Alphonse that day as he ate through a vat of shredded pork and enjoyed a nice, refreshing slushee.
Having nowhere else to go at that point, we decided to go back to my home. For the next several hours, this velociraptor and I discussed our hobbies and likings and such. Apparently, Alphonse was very fond of human philosophy and ancient poetry. We fit together quite well and it was quickly arranged that Alphonse could live in my shed so long as he protected the house at night and hunted in the nearby woods and not on neighborhood pets.
It was a deal I would never regret. On a daily basis we would discuss matters ranging from existence to how to perfectly prepare a dish of pasta primavera—now mind you, this raptor can cook better than a restaurant; I do believe he may have a part time night job at one—with such clarity that I scarcely realize that the conversation is with someone quite physically unlike myself.
He’s a bit of a quirky fellow though. For example, he hates ducks. More accurately, he doesn’t mind their taste but is absolutely terrified of their quacking. I don’t quite blame him: I got bit by a duck once, and now I don’t like that quack either. He also has a strong dislike for people who say there’s no such thing as dinosaurs; it makes him highly existentialist and lonely.
Alphonse and I are just going through life together, almost like long term roommates. Most people are terrified of him on first sight, which is fine because it gives him more time to talk to the people who aren’t close minded or have a vendetta against dinosaurs.
Alphonse is a great and wise velociraptor. In fact, he’s so wise that I’ve filed an inquiry to a few major universities how I can get his official taxonomical species name changed from velociraptor to philosoraptor.