Congratulations Pterodactyl Porn Star!

The video remains burned in all of our minds. The woman, perched atop one prone pterodactyl-man whose wings are splayed out uselessly beneath him. Your compatriots, arrayed around her, penises clutched in her hands and you, star of the show, in a sense, will stand there between them with your phallus in her mouth as she lolls her tongue futilely, desperately.

But that was a long time ago, and it turns out that pterodactyl porn star isn’t exactly the best paying gig in the world. In fact it is, arguably, the worst, given the hours you spent researching the role, the time you spent constructing your own costume out of a combination of felt and old wire coathangers and the endless reshoots in different locations, ranging from a natural history museum after hours to a forested area of a public park. All for a fifteen minute dinosaur fetish scene in a movie no one knows the title of that everyone has seen and been simultaneously aroused and repulsed by.

And the years since have been unkind. Turns out it’s difficult to get a job when the only bolded entry on your résumé is “pterodactyl number two in pornographic movie.” Even porn producers aren’t terribly psyched about employing you, despite your fervent declaration that you are “hepatitis free” at the bottom of résumé. But there’s some light at the end of the tunnel. Because today you’re going to be interviewing for a job as a forklift operator at a warehouse specializing in the shipping of paper and office supplies. And while you’re in the office of the floor foreman, who is actually a woman, she’ll look you dead in the eye and ask you a question no one’s ever asked you before.

“Do you still have the pterodactyl costume?”

You’ll be so shocked that you’ll spit up a little coffee on your shirt. The fore-lady will laugh and hand you some paper towels, with which you’ll feebly attempt to mop up the spill as it seeps into the fabric. She’ll smile, shake her head, and ask again.

“Sorry, but do you?”

You’ll laugh uncomfortably for a few seconds before nodding.

“Yeah, it’s in a box at home.”

She’ll smile, get up and walk behind you, to the door to her office. You’ll hear the lock click behind you and then you’ll feel her arm as it drapes over your shoulder and around your throat.

“You can start on Monday. Be sure to bring it,” she’ll murmur into your ear as her free arm snakes down your body to your crotch, where it will settle and begin petting, as if she’s found the world’s most interesting cat.

Congratulations Pterodactyl Porn Star!