08 December 2005

A re-run...

I'm so damn

I picked up a nifty old book at a yard sale today. Seems the book's previous owner recently moved to Florida from the picturesque little town of Innsmouth. Got his degree at some place called Miskatonic University. He's selling all his old stuff because he's moving down to the Keys in order to be "nearer to the sea" - he kept looking kinda funny and bug-eyed when he talked about that, but I figure a good deal's a good deal. So I gave him a buck for the book, a first edition of The Necronomicon. I figured I could sell it on ebay and make a tidy profit.

Unfortunately, the only bidder I got was some weirdo named Herbert West who wanted to pay by personal check. I only accept Paypal. So I kept the book and volunteered to read it to a class of 7th graders. (It's important to do one's part for literacy.)

It started out okay, but then the next thing you know it was all black smoke, hideous Elder Gods emerging, screaming preteens being eaten like popcorn shrimp. You know how it is. I'm sure you caught it on CNN. They probably won't invite me back again next year. Too bad because the school cafeteria makes a mean American Chop Suey.

Anyhoo. Once Great Cthulhu had been satiated, I asked him to give me a few moments of his time. He graciously accepted. By some amazing, technological means, as we converse, our words magically appear on my computer screen. It's really something, eh? I'd explain it, but it involves a lot of math. Since I'm the host, I'll allow my guest to introduce himself. Go ahead, big guy. Don't be shy.

Tremble, mortals! It is I, Great Cthulhu. I have been summoned from the watery depths of R'lyeh! All shall perish! Your minds cannot fathom the horrors which await you as I...

Uh...Cthulhu? Might want to dial it down a notch there, buddy.

Did we not reach an accord?! Do not make me destroy your sanity and devour you alive!

Hey, now. Let's not be hasty. I just think that if you want me to help spread your message, it's probably not such a great idea to scare off my readers.

Ah, yes. I would hate to frighten away your loyal fans. All both of them.

Was that sarcasm, sushi face?

WHAT!?!?

I said, um... you are the scourge of the human race.

Yes. For when the stars are in proper alignment, I shall wake once more from my slumber in R'lyeh and lay waste to your world.

Could you start with my manager at work?

I am that which is older than the moon, older than the stars! I am that which is eternal and ever watchful.

You are that which refers to itself, in rather grandiose terms, in the third person.

To even look upon me is to go insane!

I'm looking upon you right now. I don't feel any different... except maybe a little overheated. Are you sure I can't turn up the A/C? Just a little?

SILENCE, MORTAL! You have never experienced the cold of endless, strange aeons spent in dark waters which are both prison and sanctuary! You have never existed in frozen wastes beyond the stars which you gaze upon from your puny little planet. You...

Okay, okay. Uh, about that whole insanity dealie. You're not planning to destroy my sanity, are you?

I have not decided yet. Perhaps another of those tasty concoctions which you call Cherry Garcia would forestall your inevitable doom.

Awww, dude. That's my last one!

It is worth more to you than your sanity?

Hmmm...

Well!?!?

I'm thinking!

Have I mentioned that your pitiful human vocabulary does not contain words which could accurately describe the searing agony of being eaten by an Elder God? The endless torment of a millenia spent being slowly digested within my...

What if we flip for it? Got a quarter?

I do not have a quarter, but that is a small matter. Hold still a minute, we'll use your spleen.

WHOA! On second thought, you should have the ice cream. Really, be my guest. Could I get you some hot fudge sauce? Maraschino cherry?

That's more like it. You grovel well, one who is known as Nicole.

Yeah, well... I used to work for Disney. Our employee policy manual had a chapter on groveling.

You worked for Disney? Tell me, is there truly a human reproductive organ hidden in the video cover art of The Little Mermaid? I've got a bet with Hastur.

I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say.

Why doesn't Donald Duck wear pants?

It's symbolic. Pants represent the social constraints of our society, one which embraces all that which is familiar and mainstream, while fearing and rejecting that which is unique. By refusing to wear pants, Donald is throwing his hat in with those of us who remain true to ourselves, those who are individuals in a world where being so is more often punished than rewarded.

You're putting me on.

Well... that's just my interpretation. I think maybe Disney's just got a thing for pantsless waterfowl.

I wish to write an essay of my own, entitled Why Everyone Should Bow Down and Worship Me Before I Destroy Their Minds and Eat Them for Breakfast. As you are one of those who write, you shall help me.

I'd love to help you out, but I'm pretty sure Bill Gates already wrote that essay.

He shall be eaten first!

Oooh. Tough luck, Billy-boy.

Enough small talk. It is time for you to spread my message. I wish it to be terrifying and compelling all at once. All whose eyes fall upon it shall shudder as an icy fear grips them, as all they thought they knew of reality and goodness is shattered!

So, kinda like Michael Jackson's nose.

Precisely.

Okay, then. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce to you the newest candidate for the presidency of the USA. (Today Washington, tomorrow the whole of the Earth... or at least Cleveland.) He's green, he's megalomaniacal, he's Cthulhu! Next election year, vote for a candidate who is concerned only with his own agenda, who will lie without shame and lead all who follow him into destruction and chaos! Yes, cast your vote for George W. Bu- Oops. Sorry. I mean cast your vote for Cthulhu! You have to admit, the similarities are eerie.

TAKE THAT BACK!

I'm terribly sorry. You're right. After all, one of you is an evil, self-serving and manipulative entity with utter contempt for humanity. The other is a giant Squid-God.

I've heard rumors that the Republicans are trying to get Azathoth on the ticket. Old Azzie's not the brighest candle on the birthday cake, from what I've heard. And hasn't he gotten reclusive the past few centuries?

Yes. He now lives in self-imposed exile, subsisting on Peanut Butter Boppers and Lik-M-Aid and listening to old 8-tracks. It is sad. Periodicaly, he devours random souls in the garden department of any given Wal*Mart.

That actually explains a lot. I also heard Shub Niggurath is running for the Green Party, but let's face it, she's got a thousand young. She hasn't got time to tie her shoes, much less enslave mankind.

So in the next election years, vote the greater of two evils for a change. Vote Cthulhu! All who do so will be eaten last. Ia! Ia! Cthulhu F'tagn!

I was going to drive you insane and feast on your internal organs, but there is a lump in my throat.

Really? I'm honored that my writing touched you that way.

No. I mean there is literally a lump in my throat. While you were speaking, I became bored and ate your mailman. His hat seems to have become lodged in my esophogus. I hope hats aren't high in carbs.

Oh, no. Don't tell me you've jumped on the Atkins diet bandwagon, too?!

I created the Atkins diet! You mean people don't know that? Less carbs means less engery. Less energy for futile uprisings when I take my rightful place as Supreme Ruler. Perhaps I should stick to producing record albums for William Shatner. His singing causes the human race to lose both hope and faith in itself.

That was you?! Man, it's one thing to mock and messily devour your own followers. But helping Shatner record an album? For shame, Cthulhu! How do you sleep at night?

Better on a full stomach...

But I kid Shatner... he's got a melodious singing voice. Like an angel. Really. Honest. Please don't eat me.

You're in luck, mortal. I am feeling merciful. Either that or it's indigestion. Civil servants give me gas.

Ewwww. Well, thanks for taking the time to chat with me. You've always been my favorite Great Old One.

And I find you only slightly nauseating. If there were other mortals to be found within a reasonable walking distance, I would spare you.

Awww, I think this calls for a hug. C'mere, ya big softy!

Have a great night, and thanks for reading.

previous | next

miss something?