rubble of civilization around with his feet. “Ask your generals what’re we supposed to do now that no humans are left? We should have saved some for later.”
Gorger spent the afternoon skipping cars across the Atlantic. Underfoot, Deep Ones with fish heads ran about on webbed feet, chasing brethren wearing human skins. But the charm died fast, and Gorger stepped on a few to the cheering delight of the others.
Bored again, he wandered away from the city, into the countryside, past fields of humans petrified into still-burning charcoal. Finally, when the others had finished drinking the sun and darkness fell upon the planets, Gorger watched the ruins of a small town. It was a few hours into his contemplation that Shebboth found him.
“What?” Gorger asked, not bothering to look up.
“I, uh. I got you a gift.”
“What sort of gift?” he asked, disinterested in the conversation already.
“I wasn’t gonna share it with anyone, but seeing how you’re my best friend—”
“We’re not friends.”
“—beat me less often than the others, I thought you should have them.”
“Them?”
Shebboth lifted his plated rib. From beneath, he pulled out a city bus covered in black ooze. “Ta-dah!” he said with a chirp that shattered the town’s last windows.
“Ta-dah what?” Gorger asked, staring at the mucus-covered bus.
“Oh, sorry,” he said. He licked the windows with his massive gray tongue and presented it again.
“Still not getting it.”
“Well,” Shebboth said, shaking the bus. “They’re in there.”
“Humans?”
“Found some hiding and caught ’em,” Shebboth said, shaking the bus some more.
Gorger snatched the vehicle from Shebboth and peered inside. “They’re not moving.”
“Maybe they’re scared? Or maybe they’re playing dead?”
“Or maybe you forgot to punch holes in the lid and they’re not playing,” Gorger said.
“Oh, no,” Shebboth replied. “And I collected them carefully even though I squished a—”
“Squished?”
“—ate a few.”
“Yeah,” Gorger said, brightening slowly. “But if you found some, maybe we missed more.”
“But Cthulhu said we won . . . in his speech.”
“Cthulhu wrote a speech?”
“Well, Yog-Sothoth helped. The speech kinda rambled for a bit before the end when a thousand Mi-Go spontaneously burst into flames, but we got the point.”
“Right. Well, this makes things easier.”
“For what?”
“To find more humans.”
“And eat them?”
“Nope. Raise them. And maybe, just maybe, start over.”
The sky was black with snow. More buildings fell as the great beasts took to scratching their backs, and more laid about, staring up at the dark heavens and asking, “How crazy do you think that cloud is?”
Gorger and Shebboth, however, set about rebuilding humanity. And for that, they needed more humans. They peered inside basements and sent Gorger’s tentacles probing, searching through corridors and rooms. After a week, all they had for their efforts were an army of mannequins that Shebboth called “keepers.” Why they earned that distinction, Gorger thought it best not to ask. The only thing that trumped insanity was stupidity, and Shebboth’s deck was well stacked in that regard.
As Gorger searched, his arm shoulder deep inside an underground garage, a swath of strange lights fell across him, touching his gray skin like spiderwebs soaked in tar. He looked up. Sometimes a rainbow and sometimes a cloud of indescribable colors shifted and scintillated. Well, indescribable to humans, but to Gorger they were rather kitschy.
“What?” Gorger asked.
“! . ! ?” the Color-from-out-of-Space responded.
“Who says we’re looking for humans?” Gorger replied, straightening.
“. ! . . .”
“He did, did he?” Gorger asked, looking for a strangely absent Shebboth. “And if we are?”
“. . .”
“You kept some humans? Why?”
“. . ., . . .”
“No, I didn’t know they made good hair curlers.
Gorger spent the afternoon skipping cars across the Atlantic. Underfoot, Deep Ones with fish heads ran about on webbed feet, chasing brethren wearing human skins. But the charm died fast, and Gorger stepped on a few to the cheering delight of the others.
Bored again, he wandered away from the city, into the countryside, past fields of humans petrified into still-burning charcoal. Finally, when the others had finished drinking the sun and darkness fell upon the planets, Gorger watched the ruins of a small town. It was a few hours into his contemplation that Shebboth found him.
“What?” Gorger asked, not bothering to look up.
“I, uh. I got you a gift.”
“What sort of gift?” he asked, disinterested in the conversation already.
“I wasn’t gonna share it with anyone, but seeing how you’re my best friend—”
“We’re not friends.”
“—beat me less often than the others, I thought you should have them.”
“Them?”
Shebboth lifted his plated rib. From beneath, he pulled out a city bus covered in black ooze. “Ta-dah!” he said with a chirp that shattered the town’s last windows.
“Ta-dah what?” Gorger asked, staring at the mucus-covered bus.
“Oh, sorry,” he said. He licked the windows with his massive gray tongue and presented it again.
“Still not getting it.”
“Well,” Shebboth said, shaking the bus. “They’re in there.”
“Humans?”
“Found some hiding and caught ’em,” Shebboth said, shaking the bus some more.
Gorger snatched the vehicle from Shebboth and peered inside. “They’re not moving.”
“Maybe they’re scared? Or maybe they’re playing dead?”
“Or maybe you forgot to punch holes in the lid and they’re not playing,” Gorger said.
“Oh, no,” Shebboth replied. “And I collected them carefully even though I squished a—”
“Squished?”
“—ate a few.”
“Yeah,” Gorger said, brightening slowly. “But if you found some, maybe we missed more.”
“But Cthulhu said we won . . . in his speech.”
“Cthulhu wrote a speech?”
“Well, Yog-Sothoth helped. The speech kinda rambled for a bit before the end when a thousand Mi-Go spontaneously burst into flames, but we got the point.”
“Right. Well, this makes things easier.”
“For what?”
“To find more humans.”
“And eat them?”
“Nope. Raise them. And maybe, just maybe, start over.”
The sky was black with snow. More buildings fell as the great beasts took to scratching their backs, and more laid about, staring up at the dark heavens and asking, “How crazy do you think that cloud is?”
Gorger and Shebboth, however, set about rebuilding humanity. And for that, they needed more humans. They peered inside basements and sent Gorger’s tentacles probing, searching through corridors and rooms. After a week, all they had for their efforts were an army of mannequins that Shebboth called “keepers.” Why they earned that distinction, Gorger thought it best not to ask. The only thing that trumped insanity was stupidity, and Shebboth’s deck was well stacked in that regard.
As Gorger searched, his arm shoulder deep inside an underground garage, a swath of strange lights fell across him, touching his gray skin like spiderwebs soaked in tar. He looked up. Sometimes a rainbow and sometimes a cloud of indescribable colors shifted and scintillated. Well, indescribable to humans, but to Gorger they were rather kitschy.
“What?” Gorger asked.
“! . ! ?” the Color-from-out-of-Space responded.
“Who says we’re looking for humans?” Gorger replied, straightening.
“. ! . . .”
“He did, did he?” Gorger asked, looking for a strangely absent Shebboth. “And if we are?”
“. . .”
“You kept some humans? Why?”
“. . ., . . .”
“No, I didn’t know they made good hair curlers.
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