DAY OF THE KILLER CHIHUAHUAS

A stupid little piece, written before the untimely downsizing of the Taco Bell Chihuahua. Please do not read if you are a large fan of any of the following: Rosie O’Donell, Kathie Lee Gifford, Regis Philbin, Ronald McDonald, Oprah, Disco Music, Ronald McDonald, common sense (consistently ignored), Giant chihuahuas, or extremely stupid people named Bob. As a matter of fact, don’t read anything I write if you’re a big fan of those. Weirdo.

Robert Sanderson snorted softly and rolled over in his sleep. Unfortunately for him, there was no more bed left to roll over on to, and he crashed to the floor in a heap of tangled blankets, waking up instantly. As Bob groggily looked at his alarm clock, he realized that this was probably a good thing, as he had already overslept by nearly an hour. So, he rose to meet the new day in his usual way – stumbling to the bathroom groggily, scratching his butt through a pair of ugly, bright yellow boxers. Bob did not yet suspect that these 1% cotton, 99% "other" boxers, given to him by his aunt Flo (who hated his guts), could, if used properly, unlock all the secrets of humanity. It was a good thing he didn’t suspect this, because it wasn’t true, and I’m afraid he would have been considered quite insane. What happened next, though, was enough to make any man question his sanity.

Bob lurched uneasily past his den, where a small talking pig was joyfully rolling around in a pile of magazines. Bob stopped briefly for a moment as his sluggish brain tried to process information. Pig, Bob thought, then stomped off towards his bathroom.

As Bob was sitting on the John, relieving himself without remembering to pull his hideous boxers down, it hit him. He was hungry. So, he quickly stomped off towards his kitchen, only tripping over his own feet twice on the way. This was a major accomplishment for him.

Bob managed to pour himself a cup of coffee and butter some toast without scalding or slashing himself, which he had done several times before, and plopped himself down on his sofa as the caffeine began to course through his veins. It really was beautiful, he thought as he stared out his window, the sun rising slowly in the west, rays of light glancing off the rumble of the neighbors’ house as giant Chihuahuas trampled it frantically- wait a second. Giant Chihuahuas? Rubble? Bob’s slow brain began to speed up as the caffeine hit him full force. "My god," he said, stumbling to his feet, "how many beers did I have last night?"

Bob never had time to say anything else. A huge crashing sound across the room seemed more important than asking rhetorical questions of no one in particular. Bob turned and stared at the huge head poking through what had once been one of the walls of his house. "YO QUIERO TACO BELL!" It bellowed. "A giant talking Chihuahua?" Bob said incredulously, frozen to the spot. Okay, so I lied earlier. Bob did feel the need to ask rhetorical questions. It was just one of the many quirks in his character.

Anyway… Bob’s comment only seemed to enrage the giant Chihuahua, which quickly withdrew its head and began to slam against Bob’s house. Books, a cat, a pig, a small field mouse, and several dirty socks went flying by as the house rocked on its foundations. Bob, cursing, leapt through the open window as his house was trampled to the ground by a few of the more enthusiastic Chihuahuas. Bob had seen people do this in the movies all the time (jump out the window, not trample houses, shmuck!), and they had always landed smoothly and jumped back up again to run away from the building before it exploded, or collapsed, or whatever. It didn’t exactly happen that way this time: Bob smashed in an ungainly matter to the ground, breaking a few bones and lying in a crumpled heap like a slug, whining pathetically. A few seconds later, his house came crashing down; luckily for Bob, it didn’t fall towards him, so he wasn’t completely crushed.

Bob struggled to his feet, looking around at what had once been his house. He felt a peculiar impulse to laugh maniacally, but what little sense he had took over and decided it was time to run (Okay, so he didn’t break his bones too badly…). Before Bob could take three steps, small Oprah Winfrey clones had landed on his back, deploying their tiny parachutes. They began to slash at him with razor – sharp nails, screaming wildly about "sisterhood" and their "book of the month club." Bob ran wildly around, shrieking and clawing at the monsters on his back in a rather ineffective attempt to get them off him.

Just then, one of the Chihuahuas turned its ungainly head and saw the glowing Taco Bell sign across the road from Bob’s ruined house. "AY YI YI! TACO BELL! YO QUIERO!!!" A dozen of the dogs turned and began to run across the field, their eyes bulging out of their bizarre heads.

Just as Bob had finally managed to tear one of the Oprahs off him, he looked up and noticed that he was about to be trampled. Bob did what most people would have done in that situation – stand there like a deer in headlights, and lose control over his bladder just as fast as he could.

One of the Chihuahuas kicked Bob, and he flew 20 feet through the air before landing in the branches of a tree in a nearby park, bruised, battered, and extremely confused. Although he did not know much about dogs, he was pretty sure he knew no Chihuahua could grow to be 30 feet tall. In Bob’s experience, Chihuahuas were tiny, terrified little animals that spent 90% of their time quivering, not imitation-taco crazed monsters. But fortunately, one thing that was in Bob’s experience was being wrong about such things; when you are an idiot that tends to be the case.

Anyway… Bob did not have time to contemplate such things for long, as it was time for his regularly scheduled appointments with pain. Bob’s branch snapped, and he fell in an ungainly heap to the ground. One of the Oprah clones had managed to survive, and now launched itself at Bob, who feebly raised his hands in self-defense. Luckily for him, the bush next to him whipped out a vine, snagged the clone in mid-air, and pulled it into its maw. After a brief struggle, a small burp emerged from the bush.

Bob pulled himself up and stared at the bush. "What the – it ate her?!?" he managed to stammer.

"Hey man, us bushes gotta eat too!" responded the bush. Bob flung himself away, screaming, but did not watch where he was going and smashed head – first into a tree, rebounded, and lay on the grass, holding his head. It did not exactly help when the tree bent over him and said, "Sing it with me now!" either. Bob tried to stand up, and fell on his rear. It was that moment that the tree chose to begin to sing. "I was afraid…I was PET-ri-FIED…KNOWING I wouldn’t have you by my SIDE…" The bushes began to sing along, swaying rhythmically. A disco ball nestled in a bird’s nest turned on, and flashing lights began to dance across the park.

Bob lurched to his feet, his head pounding ferociously, just as a giant Chihuahua burst through the trees, panting and drooling. Right behind it was a brightly painted car, out of which a crazed Ronald McDonald was hanging, pointing a bazooka at the Chihuahua and screaming, "Come to papa, Hamburger meat!!!" Rosie O’Donell and Kathie Lee appeared at the other edge of the woods, slashing at each other and screeching. It was utter pandemonium; and through it all, a driving backbeat thumped rhythmically. "But now you’re BACK…from OUT-ta SPAY-HAYCE…"

Bob gulped, and began to slowly back away from the bizarre scene unfolding before him, hoping to avoid getting squished by the giant Goodyear tire mascot, who presently had a chokehold on a sputtering Richard Nixon. He thumped up against something, which said "Ow." Bob spun around, fully expecting it to be another disco – singing tree or something, and was surprised to see an ordinary – looking man, who was motioning for Bob to be quiet.

Bob, of course, immediately began to talk very loudly, screaming frantically and babbling like an idiot about "The horrible Chihuahuas! The horror!" He probably would have continued to do so, draw the attention of one of the creatures to him, and thus doom them both, but fortunately Kathie Lee had just managed to puncture Rosie O’Donell’s gigantic head with her razor – sharp nails. As the air rushed out of her nearly-empty head, O’Donell was flung across the park like a punctured balloon, eventually slamming into Bob and shocking him into silence. A lone Koosh ball dropped out of Rosie’s deflated head, all that was left of her brain.

The other man seized the opportunity to grab Bob and throw them both behind a bush just as one of the Chihuahuas, its left ear on fire, ran past yipping with pain. Bob turned to thank the other man, but he was gone. Bob looked around curiously; but he heard a small burp from the bush he was hiding behind and immediately realized what had happened to the other man.

Screaming, Bob leapt into clear view of the monsters, who for the most part ignored him as they ripped each other apart and burned things randomly. A few of the more violent ones quickly came after him, and Bob found himself running around screaming as Regis Philbin chased after him, trying to force Bob to listen to his lame jokes.

Suddenly, in the midst of this insanity, a flaming object slammed to earth in the middle of the park, crushing Regis. Bob leapt aside and looked incredulously at the 30-meter metal cylinder embedded in the earth. It was unquestionably a space ship of some kind. None of the creatures seemed to notice or care; the disco music kept on thumping in the background.

Bob dodged a bomb thrown by the Ronald McDonald and ran towards the ship as a ramp lowered from the side of its crumpled hull. Two aliens, complete with bulging eyes, walked down, pointing their weapons at anything that got near. "You there!" one of them called in a metallic voice, obviously being translated to English through a computer. "You are actually a human, and not one of these – these things?"

"Y-Yes," Bob replied in a stammering voice. "Do you know where these things are coming from?"

The alien ducked as an Elvis impersonator was thrown at him by the Trix Rabbit. "Yes, I do. We caused these creatures to appear, but believe us, we had no idea it would be like this…" The alien paused for dramatic effect, but unfortunately, before he could start again, a giant Chihuahua bent down and ate him.

His companion whirled around and vaporized the Chihuahua with his weapon. "As my foolish comrade was saying, we are members of a peaceful organization, the league of planets. We were prepared to offer humanity membership, based on your broadcasts. But we needed to try one last test – a device that would show to us all whether or not to permit you membership. It takes the dark side of your culture and creates it for all to see from your own brain-wave patterns. We have used it dozens of times before in similar cases, but never have we had anything close to – " The alien jumped to the side as Kathie Lee ran thundering past, screeching wildly about what would happen "If her friends could see her now." The alien shuddered. "- to this. You people are insane!" His tinny, metallic voice was softer now. "We were coming into low orbit around your planet in a three – man ship. We started getting back the first satellite images. Chaos. Utter chaos! Everywhere, these bizarre people, these flashing lights and awful music, and those horrible, gigantic, dogs!"

"We call them Chihuahuas. They’re the smallest dogs on earth." Bob said helpfully. Under the alien’s incredulous look, he wavered. "Uh, at least under normal circumstances."

The alien looked at Bob oddly, then continued, pausing only to vaporize a few paratrooping Oprah Winfrey clones. "We didn’t know what to do. We were just about to leave when –" ZAP! "we were attacked by a –" ZAP! "giant, cartoon rabbit. Our craft was badly damaged, and he stole all our nutritious General Mills cereal!" The alien broke down and began to sob. One of the paratroopers thought this would be a good time to attack, and leapt at the alien. Without even looking, the alien grabbed the tiny clone and threw it into a Chihuahua that was charging towards them.

"We were forced to-" ZAP! "crash-land here. We need some of a very rare element to fuel our ship and escape to warn the others. Who knows what might happen if this contamination spreads!" ZAP! "It might signal the end of life as we know it."

Bob gulped nervously. "So, you can undo what the device did, right?"

The alien laughed. "Oh, no, of course not. We’re probably just going to vaporize this entire planet." ZAP! Suddenly, the alien noticed Bob’s boxers. "That’s it! Uglyonium! That’s the element we need! Sorry about this…" the alien said, pointing his weapon at Bob. "…but I’m sure you’ll agree you deserve it. Freak."

A loud ZAP! Filled the air, and then the alien ran back to his ship, clutching the precious boxers to his chest as the entire town began to crumble and burn under the onslaught of the monsters.

The ship sped outwards, pointing its nose away from the doomed planet, even as city after city began to burn. Somewhere, unnoticed in the cargo hold as the two surviving aliens relaxed in their cabins, secure that the problem would be solved, a lone Chihuahua hid, a malevolent grin plastered across its bizarre face. "Yo quiero," it whispered softly, "QUE KICK SOME BUTT!!!!!"

MUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

THE END

(OR IS IT?)