“Here you go, Boots,” Ida said, lowering the dish full of cream to the cracked floor.

She had named him Boots because he had adorable white paws while the rest of his coat was the deepest black she’d ever seen.

Ida had almost missed the poor creature, covered in muck, found after the strange meteor fell from the sky in her back yard. His glowing amber eyes, though, touched her soul. She took him in and nursed him back to health. They became devoted to one another.

Ida sat down with her evening tea to watch TV when the door crashed open.

“Oh!” Hot tea spilled on her apron.

“Give me your money, you old witch,” the intruder yelled through his ski mask.

“I haven’t any,” she answered. “My social security doesn’t come til tomorrow! Please don’t hurt me!”

The intruder cried out in rage and struck her. The tea cup crashed onto the floor.

A shadow grew.

The intruder looked up to the great void in front of him.

Ghastly white Tentacles sprang from its booted paws as they grabbed him by the neck and twisted. It then inhaled the intruder in one gulp.

Ida’s breathing soon slowed. “Oh dear,” she sighed. “That was my favorite tea cup!”

Boots, shrunk back to kitten size, snuggled up to its beloved rescuer, and purred.