Alright, I’m sure everyone’s seen Jurassic Park, right? A bunch of clueless humans thought it was a brilliant idea to bring back dinosaurs using ancient DNA, and—surprise, surprise—everything went off the rails into a pile of shit. But you’ve only heard the human side of the story. Let me break it down for you from where I was standing—or, uh, stalking. I was a velociraptor, and trust me, this dino drama had a whole other side you needed to hear.

There I was, just minding my own business, doing velociraptor things—chasing stuff, planning my escape. Then suddenly, all these humans showed up at our island like it was some luxury vacation destination. They were all like, ‘Ooh, dinosaurs, how cool!’ Like we were just there for their amusement. Newsflash: we weren’t.

First off, I know what you’re thinking. ‘Oh, velociraptors were just mindless predators, right?’ Wrong. We were just trying to enjoy some peace and quiet in our tropical paradise. What was not to like about a nice place to kick back? But no, next thing I knew, I was stuck in a pen with some idiot waving a flashlight in my face, testing my intelligence. Listen, buddy, I didn’t need to be blinded to know you were toast the minute I got out.

And let me just say—humans thought they were the apex predators because they invented microwaves and smartphones. Cute. We didn’t need gadgets—we had teeth, brains, and claws. Pretty much the perfect trifecta. While they were busy patting themselves on the back for building fire, we velociraptors had evolved into the ultimate predators. Fast, smart, and relentless.

Now, before we get into the real fun, let’s talk about the old man behind the whole disaster—John Hammond. The dude thought he was some kind of genius. Walking around in that white suit like he’d just figured out how to use the internet, going, ‘Spare no expense!’ Sure, John, you spared plenty. You spared all the expenses on safety measures. Like on fences. Or basic logic. His whole vibe was like a Kentucky Fried Chicken commercial, minus the good food. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First, let’s talk about that T-rex.

Yeah, everyone was terrified of the T-rex. Big, scary, loud. But let’s be real—he was all roar and no brain. We velociraptors? We were the real brains behind this operation. I was over there solving puzzles, opening doors like I had a PhD in engineering, while T-rex was stomping around like he was trying to break his Fitbit step count. Sure, he could knock over a Jeep, but could he solve a puzzle? I didn’t think so. Meanwhile, I was practically an escape artist. Houdini would’ve been proud.

Now, onto the humans. These so-called experts were somehow shocked when we started running the place. Like, what did they expect? They brought us back to life, locked us in cages, and thought we’d just sit around? Please. Even Dennis, the IT guy, thought he was a real genius. Dennis, who spent 90% of his time complaining about server downtime and 10% actually doing his job. He had this bright idea—‘Let’s shut off the fences for a while.’ Yeah, because nothing says ‘job security’ like disabling the only thing keeping you from becoming a velociraptor snack.

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Speaking of Dennis, this guy really had it coming. He was going to steal dinosaur embryos in a park full of dinosaurs? Genius plan, Dennis. And what was his big idea for smuggling them out? A can of Barbasol shaving cream? Really? I mean, come on. Here’s some advice: when your job description involves Jurassic Park, maybe don’t try double-crossing the place crawling with prehistoric killing machines. Oh, and shout out to Dilophosaurus—fantastic aim with the venom spit. Five stars. Would hunt here again.

Also, let’s take a moment to discuss the food situation. I was a top predator, and what were they feeding me? Some half-thawed chicken thighs like they’d been dug out of the clearance bin at a grocery store. Really? I wasn’t cloned from millions of years of evolution to eat cold leftovers. I deserved something better. A little gourmet prey wouldn’t have hurt.

Anyway, while all this chaos was going down, I was stuck chasing two kids around a kitchen. I mean, really? What was with humans and kitchens in disaster movies? The world was falling apart, and they decided to hide in a room full of knives and sharp objects. Sure, that’d end well. I’ll give credit where it’s due, though—the girl managed to lock me in a freezer. Annoying? Yes. Impressive? Also yes.

Meanwhile, Mr. Hammond and the gang were realizing, ‘This was a bad idea.’ No kidding, Sherlock. They resurrected a bunch of dinosaurs and didn’t think we’d get bored of sitting around? What did they think we were going to do, play chess? No, John, we were going to break out, explore the island, maybe even take over. Spoiler alert: that’s exactly what we had done.

And then there was the grand finale. Everything was on fire, humans were scrambling to escape, and who showed up to save the day? Mr. T-rex, of course. He came charging in like he was the big hero, chomping on velociraptors like there was no tomorrow. Yeah, okay, Rex, you won this round. But let’s be clear—if I had had opposable thumbs, this story would’ve gone very differently.

Oh, and one last thing before I wrapped this up. What was the deal with you humans being all shocked that we hunted in packs? What, did you think we’d send an email first? ‘Dear Sir/Madam, kindly be informed that we’ll be attacking in a coordinated strike at 3 p.m. Looking forward to dining on your colleague. Regards, Raptors.’

The moral of the story? Next time you’re thinking about playing God with prehistoric DNA, remember: it’s not the T-rex you need to worry about. It’s us, the velociraptors. We didn’t just survive—we outsmarted you at every turn. Trust me, we’re a lot harder to fool, and smarter than you think. Maybe also build better fences and, oh I don’t know, hire people who could spell ‘security’ without auto-correct.

The end.