For Sale at Auction
One pre-owned Tyrannosaurus Rex dinosaur. Good condition. 188 original bones. Stands 13 ft high x 40 ft. long. Assembly required. Original box. Free shipping with Amazon Prime. Final sale only. No returns or exchanges.

If you thought museums were the only venues for large scale dinosaur skeletons, think again. In a few weeks Christie's will be selling an authentic, prehistoric T.rex at auction to any private buyer with cash and a place to mount it. The near perfect dinosaur, named Stan after the guy who dug him up in South Dakota, is one of the largest T.rex fossils known to exist.

Personally, I would have named it Notorious Tyrannosaurus. Stan is kind of wimpy.

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I can’t say a T.rex is high on my list of things to buy right now, especially since I need to replace my snowblower this winter. But the mere fact that for a cool $8 million or so I could have my very own dinosaur is pretty enticing. Maybe I could start a GoFundMe page.

I imagine a large moving van rolling up to my house and a couple of burly delivery guys ringing my doorbell. “You order the dinosaur? It’s in the truck. Where we putting it?”

“In there,” I say pointing to the living room. I have moved out all of the furniture and opened up a big hole in the ceiling as if preparing for an elevator.

The delivery guys roll out big mats to protect the floor and begin to wheel in large moving crates filled with fossilized bones. They are wearing face masks and cotton booties and blue work shirts with their names embroidered on the pocket. Tim and Bob. Jurassic Moving Company.

I have paid extra to have my T.rex assembled. I once helped my kids build a Star Wars X-Wing fighter with legos. It took 5 days and there were 11 pieces left over. With an 8 million dollar dinosaur consisting of over 800 bones I want to make sure it is done in a reasonable amount of time.

Like before my wife gets home.

The two guys bring in their cordless drills and steel cable and heavy wall anchors and pour over the dinosaur installation manual, carefully fitting left femur ball M into left hip socket N. Soon the skeletal body of my T.rex has filled my living room and the installers go upstairs to the bedroom to attach the head to the neck through the cut out.

It will be a little disturbing waking up in the morning with a large dinosaur displaying 11 inch serrated incisors and baseball-size eye sockets blazing menacingly up through the floor over the foot of the bed, but it is the only way I can get a 13 ft tall dinosaur into the 8 ft tall room below.

“What about the tail?” they ask after they fasten the large skull. “Where should we put it?”

I am kind of perplexed. “Doesn’t it go on the back end of the T.rex?” I ask.

“No, I mean in the house. The living room is full.”

“I guess just snake it out through the hall into the kitchen,” I tell them.

Soon they are done and I tip them each a twenty. They hand me the installation manual and a large tooth. “It was an extra,” they tell me.

You bought a what? My wife will probably say when she gets home. She won’t be too happy. She’s more of a cat person.

I will try to convince her of the practical value in owning a dinosaur. “The jaw alone has 58 functioning teeth and enough strength to crush a car. We will never have to buy a can opener again. And we can hang coats on the rib cage. You always say we need more closet space.”

Knowing my wife, that probably won’t be too effective.

“Think of it as an investment,” I can tell her. “Imagine what it will be worth in 20 years.”

And for good measure, I will remind her that it is house trained and we don’t need to feed it. That is important because when it was alive this T.rex ate over 500 pounds of meat a day. I doubt they make litter boxes to handle that.

Gentleman dinosaur owner. I like the sound of that. When the pandemic is over I can have guests over to my house. They can sit in the dining room on the living room couch and be impressed that I have my own private dinosaur.

“I snagged it at auction,” I will brag. “It’s 65 million years old, but I got it for a song. You know what a new one costs these days? It’s outrageous. . . Oh, be careful over there. Don’t step on the tail. It’s not insured.”

I can only dream.