Jim knew that something was wrong the day he found a bullhorned, fire-drooling dog in his backyard.

  The abomination he later rechristened Snooki the horndog, herald of its kind, was munching on the neighboor's cat as Jim walked from the driveway. The greasy meat of the overweight rodent-catcher was sizzling as the ripped CGI-grade hound went to town. Serves it right, the critter kept shitting on my lawn.

  Mesmerized, Jim was only starting to realize that he might be in danger when somehow the hound figured a two-legged monkey in sweatpants made for a good side-dish, and fixed ever-hungry eyes his way.

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  That was the moment Jim decided to stop appreciating the furball's death. No time to open the door, get to the truck !

  He turned and sprinted back, the hellspawn right on his heels. With his heart beating a drum solo, he jumped onto the rear of his pickup. The monster passed by on its charge. Half a second too late I'd be two kidneys short...

  He squated down to grab the rusty shovel he never got out of the truck's rear since who knows how many seasons ago and found the beast straining to get one of its serrated horns unstuck from a wooden electricity pole.

  I never thought I'd one day thank the municipality for erecting the damn thing on my driveway he mused as he shoveled the animal to death.