Align’?” he asked.
“That’s what I said . . . bam!”
“Meanwhile, there we sat, bored, playing Pin-the-Insanity-on-the-Cultists.”
“It’s tradition. First we create a mythology. Then, bam!”
“Will you stop saying ‘bam!’ There was no bam. There wasn’t even a mythos until I groomed Lovecraft. And then he gets my name wrong. It’s Ka’thulu, not Cthulhu.”
“I thought it was Cuthulu,” Shebboth said, shrugging.
“So, of course, Cthulhu gets called up to the big office and Cthulhu gets promoted to Elder status while I’m stuck in middle management.”
“What about Abdul Alhazred? Didn’t he spread your message?”
“The Mad Arab? Sure, lunatics make for fantastic prophets and are great at parties but—I think one of his screams is still lodged in my teeth. No, wait,” he said, picking at something among the rows of jagged thorns lining his mouth. “It’s just a piece of hope.”
“And it wasn’t only waiting,” Shebboth offered, oblivious in the way of children and car accidents. “We started cults—”
“You mean the idiots who kept invoking us too early. Learn to read an astrolabe! It’s ‘When the stars are right,’ not ‘When the stars are right now.’ And what in the name of He-Who-Prefers-You-Don’t-Name-Him is Cthulhu Fhtagn. It’s Ka’thulu Fh’tagn! Fh’tagn!”
“Fh’tagn?”
“Mom’s maiden name. Thought she’d appreciate it.”
“Oh, very sweet. I wish I knew my mom.”
“That’s what you get for bursting out of her chest at birth.”
“The other broodlings dared me to. Oh . . . didn’t we also inspire messiahs—?”
“And who was responsible for that hippie with the two stone tablets?”
“Well, um—”
“Who?”
“That was my fault,” Shebboth admitted, raising his claw.
“Right. So instead of drowning all those slaves, you closed the Red Sea late and killed our worshippers. And their screaming chariots of madness. I loved those things. They could babble for hours. And how you missed with the boils and the frogs—”
“I have a fear of success—”
“Which created one religion—”
“—and Mi-Go. They scare me, too. Are they crustaceans or are they fungi?”
“—and then another.”
“I mean, make up your collective minds, right? But those humans, we really got ’em good.”
“After waiting for the stars to align like a chorus line of the legless. Then it’s over in a fortnight. Even the dinosaurs had more fight in them—the way those iguanodons marshaled their forces,” he said wistfully. “Pretty savage for a bunch of leaf-eating philosophers.”
Shebboth sat down, the building groaning as he pressed his back against it. “Yeah . . . humans were kinda lame. Y’know, I think they actually killed more of each other in the end. I mean, what were those things they kept throwing at us?”
“Cats?”
“No.”
“Children?”
“No.”
“Nuclear bombs?”
“Them! I barely killed a thousand, but those bombs killed way more. Cthulhu is still brooding over it.”
“He should be. All this talk about ‘The Great Day’ and what does he do? Trips on the shores of Europe and drowns France in a tidal wave. Schmuck.”
“My scales are starting to shed from that radiation stuff. Look,” he said, opening the mucous flap in his chest. His nostrils stood revealed and wept the salty tears of defiled virgins. “I think I’m bleeding.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m not bleeding?”
“You don’t think.”
“Well. Look at what happened to Shub-Niggurath with all that radiation,” he whispered with a knowing nod.
“She always looked like that.”
“She?! I’ve been calling her ‘sir’ all these eons.”
“Yeah. It was good for a laugh. Why do you think she’s been trying to kill you since forever?”
“I blamed it on bad hygiene. But when it comes to thinking, I leave that to our great generals.”
“And now that we’ve killed everyone, what’s left?” Gorger asked, pushing the
“That’s what I said . . . bam!”
“Meanwhile, there we sat, bored, playing Pin-the-Insanity-on-the-Cultists.”
“It’s tradition. First we create a mythology. Then, bam!”
“Will you stop saying ‘bam!’ There was no bam. There wasn’t even a mythos until I groomed Lovecraft. And then he gets my name wrong. It’s Ka’thulu, not Cthulhu.”
“I thought it was Cuthulu,” Shebboth said, shrugging.
“So, of course, Cthulhu gets called up to the big office and Cthulhu gets promoted to Elder status while I’m stuck in middle management.”
“What about Abdul Alhazred? Didn’t he spread your message?”
“The Mad Arab? Sure, lunatics make for fantastic prophets and are great at parties but—I think one of his screams is still lodged in my teeth. No, wait,” he said, picking at something among the rows of jagged thorns lining his mouth. “It’s just a piece of hope.”
“And it wasn’t only waiting,” Shebboth offered, oblivious in the way of children and car accidents. “We started cults—”
“You mean the idiots who kept invoking us too early. Learn to read an astrolabe! It’s ‘When the stars are right,’ not ‘When the stars are right now.’ And what in the name of He-Who-Prefers-You-Don’t-Name-Him is Cthulhu Fhtagn. It’s Ka’thulu Fh’tagn! Fh’tagn!”
“Fh’tagn?”
“Mom’s maiden name. Thought she’d appreciate it.”
“Oh, very sweet. I wish I knew my mom.”
“That’s what you get for bursting out of her chest at birth.”
“The other broodlings dared me to. Oh . . . didn’t we also inspire messiahs—?”
“And who was responsible for that hippie with the two stone tablets?”
“Well, um—”
“Who?”
“That was my fault,” Shebboth admitted, raising his claw.
“Right. So instead of drowning all those slaves, you closed the Red Sea late and killed our worshippers. And their screaming chariots of madness. I loved those things. They could babble for hours. And how you missed with the boils and the frogs—”
“I have a fear of success—”
“Which created one religion—”
“—and Mi-Go. They scare me, too. Are they crustaceans or are they fungi?”
“—and then another.”
“I mean, make up your collective minds, right? But those humans, we really got ’em good.”
“After waiting for the stars to align like a chorus line of the legless. Then it’s over in a fortnight. Even the dinosaurs had more fight in them—the way those iguanodons marshaled their forces,” he said wistfully. “Pretty savage for a bunch of leaf-eating philosophers.”
Shebboth sat down, the building groaning as he pressed his back against it. “Yeah . . . humans were kinda lame. Y’know, I think they actually killed more of each other in the end. I mean, what were those things they kept throwing at us?”
“Cats?”
“No.”
“Children?”
“No.”
“Nuclear bombs?”
“Them! I barely killed a thousand, but those bombs killed way more. Cthulhu is still brooding over it.”
“He should be. All this talk about ‘The Great Day’ and what does he do? Trips on the shores of Europe and drowns France in a tidal wave. Schmuck.”
“My scales are starting to shed from that radiation stuff. Look,” he said, opening the mucous flap in his chest. His nostrils stood revealed and wept the salty tears of defiled virgins. “I think I’m bleeding.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m not bleeding?”
“You don’t think.”
“Well. Look at what happened to Shub-Niggurath with all that radiation,” he whispered with a knowing nod.
“She always looked like that.”
“She?! I’ve been calling her ‘sir’ all these eons.”
“Yeah. It was good for a laugh. Why do you think she’s been trying to kill you since forever?”
“I blamed it on bad hygiene. But when it comes to thinking, I leave that to our great generals.”
“And now that we’ve killed everyone, what’s left?” Gorger asked, pushing the
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