The alien landed in the yard at my parents’ house, in the corner where no one noticed. It might seem harmless enough, what with its French vanilla design, but upon completion of its larval stage it oozes out in every which way, Blob-style, and smothering all in fluffy, white death.
Of course, at the rate it’s going, it will take a year for anyone else to notice what it’s doing, and by then it will seem downright festive.
Oh yes, this alien is clever. Death is a holiday cliche.