“What is that thing, mom?” “Oh, it’s the squid — run and get daddy: it seems that it might be shitting.” “Daddy, daddy, look: this squid is awesome!” “Ew; what are those appurtenances on its underside?”
“I am the squid. I committed this act. These are my squidlings, my spawn: they are conquering overlords. We ripped your poster of Robert De Niro and ruined your friend’s mom and most of your pets.”
Sure enough, the people in the neighborhood are now gooey and dripping. The squid is wearing ink-spattered murderous gloves and flexing its enormous bulging purple pectoral muscles. The townsfolk send a prayer up to their God, asking Him to please come down and battle this atrocity.
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