e̳̳̺͕ͬ̓̑̂ͮͦͣ͒͒h̙ͦ̔͂?̅̂ ̾͗̑
[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Sometimes I regret joining an ancient cult devoted to resurrecting the dread god Zthyluk. Not usually, but the promised second disfigurement of devotion is a serious pain in the ass. I get that strange green thing that's grown into my hand is supposed to be a mark so terrible that it drives men insane, but it kind of looks like a walrus to me. Not even a cool walrus either.[/FONT]

[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Worse yet, when I showed it to my roommate Larry to see what he thought, he just clawed out his eyes all over the carpet. Guess who got to clean it up to? Yeah, yours truly, cause all that lazy bastard does anymore is rock back and forth in the corner muttering in tongues. The power of Zthyluk awes me, but I still hate cleaning up bloody eye gook.[/FONT]

[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Another drawback to this whole dark cultist thing is all the misconceptions about it. People think we all live together like monks in a forgotten temple or something. Not so. There is a forgotten temple where we have wild orgies and make human sacrifices, but it smells like corpse. Who'd want to live there? I've a got a job and bills to pay just like anyone else.[/FONT]

[FONT=Courier New, monospace]So why did I do it? Why did I give myself over body and soul to an entity so foul that grown men weep upon the mere utterance of his name? Shit. I don't know. Why do anything? It's not like I was going to make a list of the pros and cons and hire a life coach to consult or anything.[/FONT]

[FONT=Courier New, monospace]I remember when I was first given the Yellow Tome. I was shit-faced stumbling drunk and trying to walk home from some dive bar where I hang out on Saturdays. I had turned a corner, when from nowhere appeared an old lady who smelled like fingernails run across a chalkboard. Like the sound, but a smell. It's a Zthyluk thing.[/FONT]

[FONT=Courier New, monospace]I could see in her eyes depths of madness that I had before no capacity to even fathom. She didn't even ask me for change or anything. Just pushed an old yellow book into my hands who's cover had the texture of rotten flesh. After that she was simply gone, leaving only the faint sound of a terrifying cackling to drift on the night's cold wind.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Courier New, monospace]Fucking Jehovah's Witnesses.” I said, and tossed the book into the gutter.[/FONT]

[FONT=Courier New, monospace](I may or may not finish this story some day. Who knows?)[/FONT]


I lol'd. Very coherant. I'd like to see it finished, but it already seems that way.