CthuluBob

We were on the track ahead as the nightmare, plastic column of fetid yellow iridescence oozed tightly onward through its fifteen-foot sinus, gathering unholy speed and driving before it a spiral, rethickening cloud of the pallid abyss vapor. It was a terrible, indescribable thing vaster than any subway train - a shapeless congeries of protoplasmic bubbles, faintly self-luminous, and with myriads of temporary eyes forming and un-forming as pustules of greenish light all over the tunnel-filling front that bore up upon us, crushing the frantic penguins and slithering over the glistening floor that it and its kind had swept so evilly free of all litter. Still came that eldritch, mocking cry- "Spengba-bab! Spengba-bab!" and at last we remembered that the demoniac Splehungbahaaoth Harblnapkin- given life, thought, and plastic organ patterns solely by the Old Ones, and having no language save that which the dot groups expressed - had likewise no voice save the imitated accents of their bygone masters. I whistled for a cab and when it came near, the license plate said "fresh" and it had dice in the mirror, if anything, I could say that this cab was rare, but I thought "Man, forget it. Yo Holmes, to Bel Air!".

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Originally uploaded on /x/ on March 15, 2007

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