One day, Greg Sanderson awoke with T-Rex arms. That is, his normal, human arms had disappeared and were instead replaced with small, scaly arms with even tinier hands. He didn’t notice until he sat up and stretched and realized he could barely get his hands up to wipe the sleep out of his eyes, and even when they did reach, his hands were so small they hardly did anything, and the scales just felt creepy on his face. But, undeterred, he decided to go about his typical day. Everyone’s going to see how cool I am now, Greg thought, because who doesn’t want to be a dinosaur? It was when he realized he’d have to sit down to use the bathroom, and that wiping would also be a challenge, that made the novelty wear off.
Everything was taking eight times longer than usual to do: showering was incredibly difficult (though necessary); getting dressed was an absolute nightmare and he had to wear a sleeveless shirt as his arms looked ridiculous in anything else (you ever see tiny little hands barely poking out of a short-sleeved polo shirt? It’s a LOOK.); and the worst thing of all was, upon getting to work, nobody seemed to notice. How was that possible? Yet nobody seemed to notice his struggling to do basic tasks; the insane position he had to sit in to type emails, hunched over like a mannequin that had lost its supporting pole, tiny hands furiously moving around the keyboard. Why couldn’t he have gotten, like, raptor claws or something cooler? Why the T-Rex arms?
Greg was supposed to have a date that night, and he was terrified. Sure, his coworkers didn’t seem to notice, but what if she took one look at his dinosaur arms and ran away, screaming? He certainly wouldn’t be able to blame her for that. He put a spare suit jacket from his office on his shoulders to hide his arms, and he headed out of the office after everyone else had left for the night.
He was waiting outside the restaurant when he noticed her. She wasn’t hard to spot: she was wearing a trench coat, but her arms seemed to be longer than normal, and her hands were apparently tucked up inside the sleeves. Even though he was standing there with hidden T-Rex arms, he felt this was incredibly unusual and disorienting. As she got closer, she smiled. “Are you Greg?” she asked. He nodded. “You must be Heather.” She nodded, then frowned. “I’m really very sorry,” she said as her cheeks reddened. “I would love to go on this date with you, but I’m afraid I woke up in a rather strange predicament this morning.” Greg turned his head sideways. “Oh really? Well, it just so happens that I did, too. Promise you won’t laugh?” She solemnly nodded as he daintily poked an arm out of the jacket. She burst into hysterical laughter, tears rolling down her face. Other passersby were stopping to stare at this woman having a laughing fit for no discernible reason. Greg just stood there for a minute, until he finally began to laugh too. “This IS funny! Why didn’t I realize how funny this is?” he asked, gasping. She was bent over, heaving with laughter, and she just slowly raised one of her arms in the air. At the end of her arm, where there should have been a hand, there was a raptor claw. “I woke up like this,” she said in her best Beyonce voice, before they both burst back into more laughter. This is going to be the best date ever, Greg thought, gingerly accepting the raptor claw into his tiny T-Rex hand, and escorting her into the restaurant.
Scent notes: A masculine leaning fragrance of rich oudh wood, laubdanum, violets, and a touch of coriander, all in a heady African musk base.