A new story has been added to my website. It’s a comedic piece set in H.P. Lovecraft’s Old Ones mythos — or at least a version of it — and inspired by his classic tale “Call of Cthulhu”. For this I apologise to H.P. and all his followers. I wrote it for the most recent Conflux progress report.
Call of Cthulhu’s Mum
Psychiatrists reckon our behaviour as adults originates in the deep past. I spent many a dismal evening with that old fart Abdul Alhazred while he babbled on about his miserable childhood, citing exposure to the alchemical substances his father smoked as the cause of his persistent hallucinations regarding the nature of reality. Alchemical substances! Low-grade horse shit more like! No wonder he has such a dodgy grasp on reality. Have you read that crap he wrote in the Necronomicon? Half of it is subtextual drivel regurgitated straight from my granny’s recipe scrapbook! (The scrapbook disappeared after a visit he made once, but granny only noticed a few days later when she went to the kitchen to cook up her family-favourite Tuna and Cheese Manicotti. Sure enough, the recipe turned up on page 254 of the Necronomicon as a spell to incarnate Dagon! That’s why the Deep One’s always so pissed off when anyone drags him into the world; he can’t abide tuna. “Too much like eatin’ my second cousin,” he told me once. “Have you seen my second cousin?”)
Clearly there’s some truth in the claim that childhood trauma forms the basis of latter-day attitudes, though. I was only a youngster of maybe 14 winters when I first heard the Call of Cthulhu’s Mum. The gut-quivering roar of it echoed across the jagged landscape of our neighbourhood like Yog-Sothoth on a bender: “Cthulhu! Dinner’s on!” Trees shook, mountains trembled, and profound pits of darkness began to reconsider their lifelong aversion to silence.
Read the full “Call of Cthulhu’s Mum” here.