It has been hard since we lost the war against the face-huggers and the chest bursters. Society has largely collapsed and we live in constant fear, never sure where our next meal is going to come from or if we’re going to be the meal. At first the Aliens simply wreaked havoc wherever they want, but if anything it’s only gotten harder since they assimilated to our culture. Now they’re the first ones in the cronut line in the morning, and they’re attending city council town hall meetings to criticize their township’s failure to modernize the zoning laws in a transitioning post-rural area. They’re coming to your house asking if you’ve seen their newspaper because someone keeps stealing it, staying on the porch just long enough to make idle chit chat about last night’s episode of Under The Dome (“They spent an entire episode finding a single dose of insulin for that lesbian, but so what happens when she needs another dose in eight hours or whatever?!”). It’s disconcerting because they’re mostly polite, and it’s exactly in that moment, when you have momentarily let your guard down, pointing out that they might want to consider watering their lawns in the evening because watering them during the day the water actually magnifies the sun’s heat and burns the grass, that their tertiary jaw shoots out from between the two inner jaws, and good old Bob gets tossed into the mass graves that have sprouted up across the world like so many Starbucks. And yet, despite all of this hardship and fear and the slow, inevitable spread of total annihilation, I STILL WANT TO KNOW WHAT THOSE LITTLE GIRLS ARE WHISPERING! So rude.

Well? What are they whispering, though?! Winner will receive the admiration of his or her peers. (Image via TheInternetLurker.)