Tank, the massive Rottweiler complete with spiked collar, jerked his head up and listened. An intruder? He got up to investigate.
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In the corner of the yard was a thicket of trees and undergrowth. Perhaps it was another squirrel. If so, he would bark until Hank and the boys came out with their pellet rifle and maim the creature enough that Tank could catch and kill it.
Grinning in doggy anticipation, Tank headed for the thicket.
There! Something moved!
Tank raised the alarm.
‘What is it? Whatcha got, boy?’ Hank, Tank’s human counterpart (one might be tempted to say “alter-ego”), came out of the house in a beery haze carrying the pellet rifle, flanked by his equally beery cohorts Ike and Tom.
In response, there came a tantalising rustling from deep inside the thicket.
‘Go git ‘im, boy!’ Hank hollered, sending Tank crashing into the foliage to a chorus of hooting by Tom and Ike. Hank cracked the air-rifle, inserted a pellet, and began furiously pumping in anticipation.
And then- the trio stared, startled, as Tank was ambushed. From the shaking thicket came the sounds of growling and fighting. Suddenly, with a plaintive “YIPE!”, there came a sudden percussive thud, followed by Tank who was hurled straight at the three beery louts.
‘Lordygeezealmighty!’ Hank blurted, ducking the canine missile. His hands shaking, two pairs of wide eyes flanking him, Hank pointed the pellet gun at the centre of the thicket, suddenly wishing he had something much larger and more powerful in his hands.
And then, they heard something emanating from the thicket that caused their hair to stand on end. There was something huge and dangerous in there, shaking the copse about!
‘It’s a goddamned bloody bear!’ Hank shouted, dropping his weapon. ‘Let’s clear outta here!’
The trio no sooner spun on the heels and began running than Hank was hurled to the ground with the wind knocked out of him. Whatever it was, it had him pinned to the ground. He guessed it was a massive paw, about the size of a dinner-plate. He began screaming, begging for his life. He got to his feet, a dark stain forming on the front of his pants, and began running . . .
You are the alien.