I'll Put the Lotion On My Skin Just Keep that Dog Away from Me.
I will ask you to recall the classic thriller Silence of the Lambs and when I do so I simultaneously dare you not to think of the skin-sewing nut job Buffalo Bill.
As if Hannibal Lecter gnawing off human faces wasn't enough, we also had to try and sleep at night hoping we didn't wake up at the bottom of some guy's well. I hope you have dry skin because he's going to be forcing you to moisturize.
Sure. It's damn scary. It's fucking frightening. But do you know what's more terrifying than squirrely old Buffalo Bill staring down at you with those wild eyes and tucked back wiener? That puffy little marshmallow sitting on his lap.
That Goddamn dog.
Look at Bill there. Almost appears as though given enough time you could find his soft spot and persuade the maniac to set you free. Convince him you withstood a nasty barrage of acne through your youth and so consequently you have terrible skin with which to make a human suit. After all, he doesn't want pock marks ruining his finest outfit....does he? With the Buffalo you just might have a fighter's chance.
But that hell spawn of Satan. That fluffy haunted house on four legs. It. Is. Awful.
The thing looks like one of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man's dingle berries. And don't hold out hope thinking the Ghostbusters are going to come save you. The dog already ate every last one of them.
Stare into those eyes. They're blacker than the tar that swallowed up Sharptooth in The Land Before Time.
It hates you. It hates The Beatles. It hates the very idea of the existence of life. And it means to end it all.
So if you find yourself at the bottom of a well anytime soon God forbid you stare up into the light only to have it disappear behind the emerging form of a tiny pooch who's determined to suck your soul out of your heart.