The Aliens Have Taken Over My Home

The aliens have arrived. The floors are awash in hair. The front window is covered in snot. My eyes are a runny, itchy, burning mess and the stench when you open the front door nearly bowls one over. My home has been invaded. 

Alien number one is a nine year old epileptic English Cocker answering to the name of Phantom (so named after The Phantom Menace released the year of his birth). He's been here before. In fact, he spent the first three years of his life here before he attended Florida State University. He's snotty and twitchy. He sits upon the bay window seat longing for his girl to return. Sorry dude, it's going to be a LONG wait!

Alien number two was born here, in one of the bedrooms, after his nine-month-old whore of a mother got loose before her snip-snip appointment.  He's a lazy, shedding, sleep lover answering to the name of Lardo. He more than lives up to his moniker and can speak the word "Hello" when prompted. 

Alien number three is the sweet, lap-lounging, polydactyl Lemons. Aptly named for his yellow tone with piercing blue eyes. He sheds little dander and causes no commotion.  I could learn to like his type.

Alien number four is the spawn of Satan. Though he sheds very little, he only emerges to cause doom upon my home. Body count thus far: a Graciela Rodo Boulanger original print ($700) and a Madame Alexander Wicked Witch of the West doll ($125).  He hides under the darkness of bedskirts and hisses if you attempt to go near him.  I pass beds in fear of survival.  Once his takeover is complete, I fear no ounce of my sanity will remain. Though he was named Choco, I know his real name to be Demon Cat from the Pits of Hell.  

This beautiful creature is the queen of the aliens. She leaves them in my care as of Sunday at 2 pm. It's like having four hairy, unruly grandkids. 

Be very careful what you wish for....