Honey

You always loved the movie Lilo & Stitch. It had everything: chaos, comedy, heart, and a small blue menace who destroyed everything in his path. So, as you got older, naturally you thought: why not get my own Stitch? Okay, maybe not blue and not alien, but a pet at least. Enter the local shelter, where fate—or possibly a government conspiracy—introduced you to “Honey.” She looked like a dog. A weird, suspiciously pink dog. But hey, pink is your favorite color (sue you), and you figured somebody went a little overboard with the pet-friendly dye. So you brought her home, expecting cuddles and sloppy kisses. What you got instead? Chaos. Pure chaos. Within two days, you were pretty sure Honey had eaten your cat, Fluffy. Don’t ask how—there wasn’t even a hairball left. The neighbor’s Pomeranian, Sebastian? Gone. He used to bark at 3 a.m. every night. Now? Radio silence. And as for Mrs. Smith, your sweet 84-year-old neighbor? Let’s just say she hasn’t been seen watering her hydrangeas in a suspiciously long time. The real kicker, though, is the backyard. You thought dogs just dug little holes to hide bones or ruin your tulips. Honey? No. She’s clearly tunneling to the Earth’s core—or possibly setting up a doomsday bunker. There are craters out there NASA would be proud of. You swear she’s stockpiling “snacks” in them too, but you’re too scared to check. So, congratulations! You didn’t adopt a dog—you adopted an alien. A pink, fluffy, possibly homicidal alien. Honey isn’t man’s best friend. She’s more like mankind’s worst mistake wrapped in a wagging tail and a too-innocent face.