About a gazillion years ago, when Santiago and I were dating, I made this casual observation while we were driving in the car. Technically, he was driving and I was, as we call it, “appreciating the scenery:”
Me: Do you ever wonder if those giant round hay bales are actually hay bales?
S: What else might they be?
S: (without flinching) How so?
Me: I’m not sure yet. But I think they’re preparing an attack. Look how they’re lining up along the fence rows. Or stacked in symmetrical proportions. They’re obviously up to no good.
S: They’re microscopic aliens who have nested in the individual strands of hay, and now they’re slowly getting into formation. (God. Bless. Him)
Me: If that’s the case, there are some farmers in for some serious shit. Mark my words, this will not end well for human kind.
S: We’ll call them Pods.
Me: I think that’s only appropriate.
I suggest if you have agriculturally-inclined loved ones, you keep a close eye on them. These particular Pod aliens move slowly and deliberately, and they. are. every. where.