When I was in preschool, I wrote a series of short stories (with illustrations) about some sort of hairball monster whose only purpose in life was to hunt down and eat my dad whole. The books would always start with my dad frantically trying to protect himself (boarding up the windows etc.) until the monster would circumvent those defenses and eat my dad whole.
I should clarify my dad is amazing. I have no real problems with him now nor did I then, so I don't think there was any malice involved. For whatever reason to preschool me, the concept of my dad being eaten by a dust bunny was just fucking hilarious.
The above image is my best recollection of what the monster looked like #fun source