The pastoral beauty of New Hampshire had lulled me into languorous unconcern. My senses were dulled. I lacked the requisite "edge" for effective self-defense.
She must have been groomed for the job by Aliens. Beneath that lovely facade lay something unspeakable.
She was a clown. With an Attitude.
Her aptitude for close-in combat was alarming.
Her alien diet consisted of pinecones.
Each evening, she beamed herself back up to the Mother Ship and replenished the charge in her HyperDrive. I love her.