Take a wary look around your mud-lacquered home. Your nostrils are on fire, burned by a smell you’d describe as petrified bologna and walrus farts. A feral pair of eyeballs track you from behind the pantry door. Try to remain calm. The pancake-eyed stare-down continues as The Creature devours four fruit roll-ups and a shitload of goldfish (too fast to determine whether Pepperidge Farm or your actual goldfish). Coo to it gently. It responds with a bat-summoning scream and maniacal laughter. The Creature doesn’t respect you.

Child or Hyena? Undetermined

- - -

Even though you are its primary caregiver, The Creature appears suspicious of your presence 148 percent of the time. It responds to your requests by snorting and spinning in circles. Despite your best efforts, you cannot curb its habit of swigging toilet water. Zero shits are given, but one is left on the floor for you to mop up when it has fallen asleep.

Child or Hyena? Undetermined

- - -

The Creature has blessed you with scratches and fang impressions. It has developed a particular taste for your most expensive clothing. I am loved, you tell yourself. Since The Creature has developed a kleptomaniac passion for your follicles, you are sporting grapefruit-sized bald spots. It seems a suitable time to consider going full Patrick Stewart. The Creature wants this.

Child or Hyena? Undetermined

- - -

You are being held by an unblinking gaze while a steady stream of urine is targeted at your eyeball. This is elite-level stink eye. The Creature is marking its territory. It is also sizing you up in an unnerving manner—you have looked at steaks this way. Close one eye to avoid an ocular golden shower while maintaining vigilance.

Child or Hyena? Congratulations! You have a child.

- - -

You are running across your pungent home at the speed of a crack-fueled gazelle. The Creature is hot on your heels, a three-foot drool string suspended from its jowls. You are frightened, bewildered—missing simpler days and tequila. The Creature is screaming loud enough for you to reasonably expect noise complaints from the international space station. You yell, “Basta!” because it only responds to Spanish, thanks to Dora the Explorer.

Child or Hyena? Undetermined

- - -

How does your home look? Oh, dear. It has become The Creature’s central shrine and latrine. You tell visitors you were remodeling when the tornado hit. Inspect the walls. Is that intricate Jackson Pollock on your wallpaper rendered with Jell-O pudding or excrement? Take a whiff. Thank Clorox, it’s only profiterole-flavored crayon.

Child or Hyena? Congratulations! You have a child.

- - -

Your yard, once green and vibrant, now appears to be an adequate dwelling for a water buffalo. You consider canning the mud to hawk as Dead Sea facial masks at daycare (your scruples went out with having nice things). Flowers have been decapitated. Booby traps have been set in the form of schnauzer-sized potholes. Despite your best effects to provide The Creature with appropriate nutrition, it continues to aggressively consume leaves.

Child or Hyena? Undetermined

- - -

The Creature’s body has finally fatigued. It collapses, napping peacefully in its designated bed, giving you a moment to catch up on Game of Thrones. You have given up on The Walking Dead—too close to home.

Child or Hyena? Congratulations! You have a hyena.

- - -

You have become a scatological specialist. To date, you have personally maneuvered more poop than Jurassic Park Laura Dern’s right arm. Your elite skill includes identifying its many aliases by color and psychically anticipating its arrival. Your Twitter bio reads “Dookie Doyen” or “Crap Connoisseur.”

Child or Hyena? Undetermined

- - -

The Creature has lovingly given your drawers a peanut butter facial. It appears to have fashioned a den in your closet. You gingerly make your way through this Old Navy/Coach fortress until you discover a large mound of toothpaste, marshmallows, fossilized tater tots, your Spanx collection, the earrings ripped from your lobes, and most tragically, your favorite diaphragm. You sigh and wipe Cap’n Crunch off your eyebrows. The Creature has been hoarding again.

Child or Hyena? Undetermined

- - -

The Creature is standing in the hallway. You steady yourself, preparing for a tackle or an incoming projectile. The Creature lets out a series of giggles and shows its teeth. Its eyes are watery, hair damp from its romp in the bathwater. It smells pleasant. The Creature says, “I love you.”

Child or Hyena? Congratulations! You have a child.1

- - -

1 You may also be experiencing a hallucination due to severe, chronic sleep deprivation. In this case, your hyena is talking to you, and you may need an intervention. Also recommended: a chemical bath and a baby bottle of tequila; you have begun to smell like a minivan that had sex with a landfill.