Elvis In R'lyeh

Just something silly I thought of a while ago. (The plot bunnies of Cthulhu return!)

I tried to put it in a New England accent. If you can't read it, it's all my fault. ;)

There are lawts o' theories abaout what happened tew Elvis, but nawt many people knaow the truth. I'm 'un o' them, as be my friends–my friends bein' Richard Upton Pickman, Randolph Carter, an' my brawther, Aresl'fnagn. My name es Wilbur Whateley, an' I saw the reawll last performance o' Elvis.

The R'lyeh performance.

"He's very popular awn Earth, yew knaow," Carter said. He was the only 'un o' us Thet still lived awn Earth even part o' the time. "Famous worldwide, ur sew they say."

I chuckled. "I'd like tew meet him befer the shew–I doubt Thet we'll be able tew, afterwards."

Pickman laughed et Thet. "Yew kin say Thet agin! I've heerd Elvis's music befer, an' et's nawt thet good. Cthulhu will be pleased, I'm sure."

"Thet bad?" I wanted tew knaow.

"Wal, he's gawttun ol'–his voice es gewin'. He was okay befer thet–nawt great, but okay."

My brawther laughed. "Axou g'nart'k'xs! B'hahg'g xso xsclant p'hlax?" (I'm hungry! Will be there food?)

"X tooip'huj, krblch cjfh." (I think, yes so.)

"Drl'lh." (Good.)

Pickman smiled. "Carter kin git us en tew see Elvis, ef yew like."

I shrugged. "Okay, sure."

"Where am I?" Elvis wanted tew knaow.

"Yer en R'lyeh," I replied.

"Have I been-been abducted by aliens or something?" he asked. "Because I saw some things that weren't humans walking around!"

"Naw–yer en the land o' madness, en the city o' R'lyeh, the land Thet many myths o' sunken Atlantis came from. Dark, sad, and evil R'lyeh! Ghaouls, deep 'uns, night-gaunts, vile cultists, an' mad gawds are 'ere ter see yew. Tew yer awn kind yer awllready dead, humawn–ef yew please the people o' this place, yew will still 'ave tew live 'ere."

"So–I'm in a city of monsters?"

I nawdded–and stood up. "Oh, yes."

Pickman laughed, steppin' aout o' the shadows. "Wanna snack?" An' he offered Elvis an arm. A humawn arm.

Elvis stared.

"No? Oh, wal. awl the more fer me, then!"

I smirked. "Welcome tew Hell, my littawl minstrel-man."

Pickman grinned wolfishly–his face had changed tew a ghaoul's muzzle. "Looks tasty, dun't he?"

My brawther nawdded. I laughed. "Better than most o' the food I've had tew eat."

"Yer nawt funny, yew knaow," muttered Carter.

We were sittin' en the middle o' a large audience, waitin' fer Elvis. The hawll was huge an' splendid, an' there were severawll large statues, idols o' the Aouter Gawds an' Great Ol' 'Uns, ensorcelled sew Thet They could see aout o' the stone eyes. Cthulhu Etself was lyin' en the back o' the great room, et's many tintacles squirmin'.

We sat unner the statue o' my father, watchin' the shew.

"What dew yew think, Richard?"

"et's okay." He shrugged. "I waould like tew eat him, thaough."

"Maybe later . . ." burbled a shoggoth awn his other side.

"What, Elvis vs. Cthulhu?" I said. "Thet waould be a short fight!" An' we laughed.

Despite the size o' the hawll, only a smawll percent o' the hlalorn'fgu–the people hew knaow abaout the thin's Thet good ol' Lovecraft wrote abaout–came. Fer 'un thin', most o' the room was taken up by the statuary, an' fer another–wal, nawt much o' the people En The Knaow care fer thin's like Elvis anymore. Erich Zann, however, was sittin' nawt far from us, rapt. This was awd: Zann es deaf an' mute–an' a rather better musician then Elvis, ef I dew say sew myself. He writes pieces fer the violin Thet put butterflies en yer stomach.

"I'm amazed," he signed, "that this guy es still alive! Look at him–he ought to have had a stroke long since!"

"Ur a heart attack, when he saw whar he was," I added nastily.

"True."

"Shh!" hissed Carter. "I like this song!"

"Ye hath done well, o Musician," said the Crawllin' Chaos, smilin'. "I grant ye, in payment, the fiery Ruby of Asshurbanipal, the Red Toad Key, and the Book of Tlaviir."

And oh, but haow the multitude o' ghaouls laughed!