Taking an unfeasibly optimistic approach, Crystal Cove State Park tried to end its Facebook post on a high note without giving us all nightmares. Which sounds almost cute, until you find out that they "latch onto the female with their teeth and become sexual parasites, eventually coalescing with the female until nothing is left of their form but their testes for reproduction." They know this because apparently the males only grow to about an inch long. It's not quite as bad from this angle-but it's still not great, huh? (Facebook/ staff at Crystal Cove State Park very quickly surmised that the demon disc is a female. So, this fish could potentially eat a chihuahua. In a statement that is in no way comforting, Crystal Cove State Park explains that these malevolent meal seekers have mouths that are "capable of sucking up and swallowing prey the size of their own body." And that body, dear reader, can measure as much as 24 inches long. The "stalk on the head bioluminescent tips," Crystal Cove says, "used to entice prey in the darkness of waters." As for the foolish creatures that end up falling for that whole source-of-light ruse? Why, they get gobbled up by "teeth, like pointed shards of glass, are transparent." The Crystal Cove boffins say that the demon disc is a tricky little so-and-so, and uses that arm dangler to lure other creatures to their murky deaths. (Not a Thanksgiving table I'd want to visit, thanks.) And it's apparently part of the Anglerfish family, which contains 200 species. According to Crystal Cove State Park's very calm Facebook page, this razor-faced death pod is "most likely" called a Pacific Football Fish. Someone on Facebook suggested "Nope Fish," which I'd settle for too. Or an Armed Piranha, on account of that appendage sticking out of its head. Is that a creepy arm growing out of your head, or are you just happy to see me? (Facebook/ it were up to me, we'd be calling it a Toothy Terror Dome. That's what happened earlier this month on the shores of Crystal Cove State Park in Orange County, when this thing showed up. And some of us over here (mostly me) are not equipped for the moment when aqua monsters climb 3,000 feet out of their natural, deep sea habitats and lie dead on the shoreline in front of God and everyone. Because this isn't KQED Science, it's KQED Arts and Culture.
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