Moi Le Cthulhu 2

Posted: September 23, 2011 in beTwixt & beTween

Reaching down to his pocket he took out a box of matches. It was midday and he was back on earth. The space sojourn was getting on his nerves. It was cold and lonely. He hoped to bump into aliens but there wasn’t a single one in sight!

“Guess we are alone after all! Fuck that’s depressing!”

The idea of humans evolving from single-cell microorganisms sent shudders down his mutated spine.

“Nothingness! I cannot hear you! Speak! Speak to me!”

Even the voice of God would have probably been muted in that void and loneliness. Ironic! Humans haven’t heard God’s voice in years.

“Earth can be as cold and lonely especially if you’ve lost your own self respect,” he thought to himself as he gazed down at the fabric of his pants that hid his newly grown tentacles.

Heresy was the least of his worries. He was worried about his own sudden evolution. He was turning into something, and he wasn’t sure if he should abhor this something or revere it. It was probably too late to do anything, and he won’t put a bullet in his brain. Let humanity suffer the consequences of abnormality.

He was sitting in an outdoor café. It was rather crowded even though it was a Monday. The blue file that he was supposed to work on was lying on the table; it was mocking his inability to work. Something was enveloping his weary mind. Maybe tentacles were slowly growing in his head too.

He decided to give earth another try. He will have to live with the tentacles and those humans.

He remembered a phrase that an acquaintance of his used to quote: Jesus loves, Allah protects Chtulhu thinks you’d make a great sandwich!

It always made him smile but the thought of having human sandwiches wasn’t very encouraging unless they turned out to taste like chicken.  He bit the tip of the cigar, placed it in his mouth and puffed a few clouds from his mouth. “Hmm. Let us see where this evolution will take me.”

“Put that out!” a man, sitting at a nearby table, yelled, “My girlfriend is allergic to cigars.”

The tentacled man ignored his shouts and puffed away; he was trying to work.

“Hey asshole haven’t you heard a word I said,” the man yelled again only this time he was standing at the edge of the tentacled man’s table.

He had the I-go-to-a-first-class-gym-and-drive-a-Harley-because-I-am-filthy-rich look. The muscled man suddenly snatched the cigar from the tentacled man’s mouth and threw it to the ground before stomping on it like a bull that had a matador stuck between its hind legs.

The man then returned to the table where his girlfriend was sitting. She gave him an affectionate stare that spelled “I am proud of you!”

The tentacled man slowly stood and started to hover towards the table where the man and his girlfriend sat.

Pain started to shoot down his fingers that were increasing in length and thickness. Anger sifted through his entire body. His lower body tentacles tore through the pants; Mr. Hyde no longer wants to hide.

He hovered like a ghost. Eyes gazed in horror. Mouths were no longer chewing on over priced Greek salads and steaks. Children fearfully clung to their parents. The owner of the café and his stuff watched in bewilderment at the sight of this tentacled abnormality.

By the time he reached the table his fingers have fully morphed into tentacles. The man’s girlfriend shouted in horror at the sight. Before the man was able to do anything tentacles were wrapped tightly around his neck, arms and waist. He stood there helpless with eyes full of horror.

“Listen you piece of shit this is an outdoor café. I really hate it when people tell me what to do, especially when they step on cigars I bought with my hard earned money. I hope you understand that what I am going to do to you now is very personal. It is not like that Godfather “it’s business shit…nothing personal Michael Corleone crap.” This is personal motherfucker. Very personal and you are going to feel how personal it will get. Being an asshole feels good and you are going to literally feel it asshole!”


The girlfriend passed out. She couldn’t withstand her man’s shouts of agony and pain. Panic filled the place. It would have been hilarious if it was a discotheque. Panic and crying at the discotheque. People started leaving without paying. The café owner was on his mobile calling the police.

A few seconds later the tentacled man dropped the idiot, who dared interrupt his work, and went inside the café. He hovered towards the head waiter whose pants were wet. Wouldn’t you pee if you saw a tentacled man hovering towards you?

“Can you please tell me where are the restrooms I have to go and wash my tentacles!”

Pushing the bathroom door with his tentacles the man was now standing in front of a mirror gazing at his many tentacles. “What the fuck! What have I become? Those humans are really annoying and are always afraid from things that don’t look like them or think like them,” thoughts rushed inside his head as warm water poured on his bruised tentacles, “Ach [a word denoting pain] I am tired. Moi Le Cthulhu! Moi Le Cthulhu!”

The café owner called the police and the tentacled man is still in the bathroom.

What will happen to this abomination? I’ve reached 700 words + so I will answer this in a different blog post. So keep a look out for part three of Moi le Cthulhu.

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