I'm walking along the sidewalk on a small island off the Maine coast when I happen upon a short walkway in front of a door. The door belongs to an old brick house that is practically on the sidewalk itself, it is that close and has that little property to it.
That's not the cool part, though.
The array brings to mind some of my fondest memories of monster movies: Japanese Godzilla movies, old black and white dinosaur horror flicks, and the strange but troublesome lizard man from Dreamscape. There are also stories and books: Gila Monsters Meet You at the Airport, Jurassic Park, The Foghorn (a bizarre short story by Ray Bradbury that seemed later to be made into a movie of sorts). I was a dinosaur girl myself, playing for hours with a set of plastic creatures that often found themselves balancing and battling on large boulders I conquered for fun on our property in New Hampshire.
Finding the lizards set up like that is wildly entertaining and a tad bit disconcerting since no one seems to be around; the things are just sitting there, caught in some kind of animated freeze-frame. I think of my co-workers and attempt to tag them in a social media post, but I am limited in my technological ability out here on the island, so the tagging part refuses to post.
To my co-workers who would also think that this errant display of lizards is epic, I give you photo evidence. To those of you who cannot fathom why in the world this is peculiar and absolutely magnificent, I shake my head in sadness at your hollow childhood.
