Hello everyone! Piccolo Sky here yet again. Of course, if you're a familiar here, you probably haven't seen me here before. I'm mostly in other sections. Anyway, the thing is, I was over at Newgrounds (a web site) looking around one day, when I saw a nice little film named, "Cutethulhu", a short film by Shawn theTouched that offers a perspective on what old Mr. Lovecraft might feel about the typical unknowledgeable little girl's reaction to the little plush Cthulhu dolls that are going around. I'm not the biggest Lovecraft fan in the world, but this gave me a crazy idea. What if, in actuality, Cthulhu did indeed look like one of his little plush counterparts? Would his evil influence spread that much more rapidly? More importantly…would humanity care? With that in mind, I present this short comedy fanfic inspired by Shawn theTouched's flash animation…
(NOTE: I, for one, am opposed to the newest regulation on prohibiting script fanfictions. Due to the nature of comedy needing to come quickly, I thought scripts were the best way to be funny. This story was originally written in script format, but I had to translate it into prose. I hope it's still funny... Then again, this whole idea could be just some stupid thing that crawled out of my head one night...)
(ANOTHER NOTE: As I didn't have a copy of "The Call of Cthulhu" handy while writing this, the parody won't be exactly correct in terms of dates, events, and names.)
The Call of "Cutethulhu"
My dearest nephew…if you are reading this, then I regret to inform you that the worst has happened to me. I have gone too far in delving into a deep and deadly ancient secret, and I am afraid that others may have taken steps in removing me ere I draw any nearer to the truth. To that end, I have entrusted what I have managed to collect regarding this horrible secret to your safekeeping, and I pray that you will be spared the same terrors and dangers that I have been subjected to…
My strange and bizarre tale of darkness, superstition, and horrors from beyond this world begin on the night of February 1, 1922…where, just past midnight…I received a visit from an art student who was residing just down the hall from me…
The sound of pounding on the door awakened the professor. He grunted once and turned in his bed, but then opened his eyes and fluttered them a moment.After a few seconds, he realized how frantic the pounding was…and recognized danger. Immediately, he reached over and lit up the small oil lamp that he kept at his bedside. On doing so, the room received some dim illumination. He also saw the clock, and saw that it was past midnight. On seeing this, the old man frowned.
Who could that be at this hour?
At any rate, the pounding did not cease. The professor groaned and rolled himself out of bed. On doing so, he stood up and stopped only long enough to grab his robe from the closet and throw it around himself. Once that was done, he adjusted it as he made his way to the door of his apartment.He quickly undid the locks and opened it wide, looking to see who was causing this.
The professor was instantly taken aback. He knew who this was. It was Kurt Yoder, the German art student from down the hall. However…he had changed. His normally cool and collected manner had been shattered. His eyes were wide with fear. He was heaving and breathing hard, and his body was soaked with sweat. He was in his nightclothes without his robe, and he trembled like a leaf in a hurricane. He had one arm bent behind him, hiding something from the old man. However, he gazed at him with wide and terrified eyes.
"Why, Mr. Yoder!" The professor found himself announcing aloud. Indeed, for a moment…he could say nothing else. So shocking was this scene… He had never seen anyone look so terrified. "What are you doing up so late? It's past midnight, man…"
The art student swallowed once, struggling to get his breath. Then, nearly apoplectic, he began to speak.
"Professor…I had to tell someone this. I've just had a horrible nightmare…no…" He hesitated at this…and immediately grew more fearful "A vision. A horrifying vision…"
The professor was stunned at this. Yoder spoke with such firmness…such conviction in his voice, that he knew this was something big. A nightmare? The professor had never heard of a nightmare affecting a person this badly. The boy looked ready to have a heart attack in a moment. And the way he said this…it was so serious it began to unnerve him.
"Why, sir…you look like you've been scared half to death… What abomination could have done this to you?
Immediately, the student's eyes burned as he became more insistent and desperate. "I could have sworn that what I saw was real…" He hesitated after his…and his tone became more faraway as his eyes enlarged. "It was ghastly… I saw a vision of a far off island…a bizarre island covered with buildings at angles and crooks impossible for man's architecture to make. And everywhere was oozing horrible black slime… I heard terrible sounds all around me from things not of this earth…"
Such was the way in which Yoder said this…with such deadly seriousness and conviction…that the professor began to grow uneasy. Yoder was a practical man. He was a realistic artist. He never gave way into superstition or fears. To see this collected young man actually act like this…to be so petrified with terror…it unnerved him. And his voice was so serious, that the professor began to feel the terror of it as well…
"It seemed so vivid and real…I could swear I was there." Yoder went on. Then, he suddenly paused…and his face turned white. "And then…I saw a great monolith rise from the ground. All of the sound seemed to come from it. And it was covered with images…images of some ghastly terror never dreamed of by mankind's nightmares. On seeing it…it stuck in my mind so vividly that I felt compelled to reproduce that image the moment I awakened…and so I did."
With that, Yoder looked the professor right in the eye. The sudden action made the old man jump back for a moment, stunned at the fearful look as he stared at him. Yet the boy looked only a moment before at last bringing his arm around, and showing the object of his terror.
"Look…look at the horrible monstrosity I beheld…"
The professor blinked once, temporarily held by Yoder's fear. It stunned him…and he wasn't sure if he wanted to see what had terrified him so badly. But then, he slowly turned his head down to look and see what horrible image the student had made… On looking at it, he first gaped in awe and shock, surprised at what he beheld…
…But that quickly gave way to puzzlement.
It was a chubby, chibi, plush green doll with little black dot eyes, that appeared to have a lot of green tentacles around its mouth and two green wings. His little pillow fists, without fingers, were held up at his sides, and he looked all together innocent and cuddly. His plump little body rested easily in Yoder's hand as his eyes stared innocently out.
The professor blinked once, staring at the doll. Yoder continued to pant in fear…while the old man's own fear vanished. It was replaced by a blank look at first…which then gave way to annoyance. The professor exhaled once, and then crossed his arms in front of him as he continued to glare at the stuffed creature. Gradually…that gave way to being cross and irritable.
"…Mr. Yoder?" The professor finally asked, not looking up or any less dark.
"Yes?" The terrified art student answered.
"Go to sleep."
With that, the old man went back in and slammed the door in the student's face.
The next day, I had the landlord remove Mr. Yoder for waking up residents at ungodly hours. I began to suspect that Mr. Yoder had been unnurtured as a child. However, I had not seen the last of that image's sappy, button-eyed stare. Little did I know that even as I was wondering what children were being exposed to these days with that devil jazz music, something else was happening…
In the United States, down in the witchcraft-filled swamps of Louisiana, there had been a series of bizarre abductions by a cult that even the old voodoo adherents feared. There was talk of human sacrifice resulting from this, and naturally a whole division of police were dispatched to deal with this insurgency before it caused a panic. They managed to track their quarry down to a place deep in the swamps, and what they uncovered was startling…
The grim policemen slowly squished their way through the dark swamp. They hated being here. It was dark…far from any civilization. It was isolated and smelled…and it didn't feel safe. They all began to look around uneasily as they crept forward. However, they kept their weapons out and kept going on, following the main detective in front. He had managed to trail the strange cultists this far. And now, they were closing in on them. They had to put an end to this. They had to try and rescue those abducted, and make sure that the same fate befell no one else. They forced themselves to be brave as they pushed through the rotten trees and sank their feet into the foul ground…
At last, the detective ahead reached behind him and motioned to halt. The troop did so. It was very dark now…but they became conscious of a light present. They looked ahead, and saw that on the other side of the incoming hill…a fire was burning. Its little red glow could be seen from where they were. Not only that…but they heard sounds. Some sort of chanting or singing was going on…but it was impossible to make out the words. They realized, at that, that they were nearing the area. They looked to each other and gave a nod, cocking their weapons. With that done, they all turned and moved onward once again.
They crept forward for another hundred yards, and slowly made their way up the hill. They moved as silently as possible…but also felt growing anxiety gripping them. They had no idea what sort of abomination could be on the other side…and it evoked their primal fears. Yet still they went on. Slowly, the party crept up the hill. As they did, they slowed down, enabling them all to get together and spread out in a line, so that on springing over the side they would all be there. However, they were unable to do so at first… The sounds were getting louder, and it was obvious now that they were in some sort of horrible, inhuman language. The officers looked to one another again, swallowed, and then gave a nod. At last, they turned back…and slowly looked over the edge of the hill to see the sight in the valley below.
Naked cultists were dancing around violently and savagely, particularly around a ring they had made around a great tall pole. But this was no ordinary ring. It was made of slaughtered human bodies, the same people who had been abducted. They cast about violently, throwing up sounds of death and revelry and violence. This ring that they weaved in and out of had a fire in the center of it, blazing hellishly around the central pole. And above all of this demonic revelry, there was one image that overlooked it all…
A small green plush doll with black button eyes.
The officers stared in utter puzzlement, their fear gone…and replaced with stupefied silence.
"Um…"
The officers didn't know whether to be mortified or confused. Never before had mankind seen such a sight that was both so totally ghastly and at the same time so utterly pathetic. Yet in the end, these savage cultists were arrested and tried.
The investigator in charge demanded to know what had been going on there that night. Some of the cultists were all too willing to respond, and gave out a horrible message…
It was later that same evening, back at the station. Modern interrogation rooms were still a ways off, but they did have small areas to one side that had tables and chairs. It was here that the officers took the wildest and most vocal of his cultist brethren. After clothing him, they brought him in here to get the truth of what had gone on that night. He had been handcuffed to a chair as a precaution, and several officers were brought inside in case he got rowdy. The detective focused all of his attention on this man…but was unable to say the same for his companions. Although most of the officers glared darkly and sternly at the psycho as well…Mr. Fogg had become rather attached to the stuffed idol, and had not stopped cuddling with it since they left the horrific site.
The cultist looked about with insane glee. He nearly foamed in the mouth as he spoke, and his face was covered with sweat that could be from anxiety or eagerness…or both. He stretched against his bonds and grinned like a demon as he turned his head about the room, and blared out a horrible propehcy…
"Great Cthulhu is coming!" He spoke in a sinister and serious voice. "The planets are at last aligned! He will awaken from his eternal slumber in the great city of R'leyh to bring a new order in this world! The old ways will be restored, and the world will be governed by chaos and violence!"
The detective stroked his chin as he mused about this, glaring hard back at the man.
"Will we at least all get plushies like him?"
The detective frowned at this, and muttered under his breath. Behind him, one of the officers had suddenly spoke up, pointing at the doll. As for Mr. Fogg, he immediately recoiled, shielding his prized possession. The detective rolled his eyes.
"All with fall before the power of Yog-Sothoth and the Great Old Ones!" The cultist raved in addendum.
The detective looked to him again at this, intrigued by this latest bit of information. But before he could say anything else…one of his officers suddenly sprung up in excitement, as the others around him grew enthusiastic too.
"Do they have their own plushies too?"
"We can collect them all and trade them!"
The spread of this so-called alien malevolent force named Cthulhu only continued to grow. For the next few weeks, art students all over the world began to go mad, each one of them having the same bizarre nightmares with the same fuzzy, soft abomination looking at them. Stuffed horrors continued to be created by these students…
The art college was a wreck in London. The students here had been affected far more so than others around the world. Here, the dreams were almost a pandemic. Each student quivered in his chair during every lecture, trembling and staring out with blank, terrified looks. Even daylight brought little to aid them as they went about their work. They merely sat at their tables and stared out in terrible fear. They grew worse with each passing day, always in regards to this mysterious thing named Cthulhu.
However, no one was more disturbed than their professors.
For a steady month…the only projects that any of them would turn in were little green toys. The art table was filled with the surpluses of the entire school. Some were fuzzy. Some were plump. Some were tall and others short. Some were made of two different kinds of fabric to make a nice little colorful design on their hideous appearances. But always the same green creature…
Sometimes…more bizarre than others…
…with the exception of the ones on the end. One of those was dressed a superhero, another dressed like Santa Claus, and the last dressed as some strange black-haired, white suit wearing person with blue suede shoes...
Abruptly, two weeks after this madness started, however, the dreams abruptly ceased, and the art students lost their gripping feelings of terror…although the merchandising and collector's edition crazes had just begun. Through much research and investigation, I was able to discover that a bizarre event happened that coincided with the end of this madness, and provided a dark end to my search for the truth…
A merchant vessel bound from the East Indies was lost after being raided by strange pirates believed to be cultists of this thing known as Cthulhu. At around the same time as the last day of these strange visions, their vessel ran aground on a strange island uncharted by mankind…but described in vivid detail by the horrifying visions of those affected by this strange phenomenon…
The sailors were aghast with horror as they stepped off of their small merchant vessel, gaping in terror at what they saw. On this island…all was deadly and silent. Reality seemed to be warped. The sun seemed dimmer and brighter at the same time, and all life seemed to have long since left this place. They could only stare in open-mouthed shock at the strange place they had found drifting in the ocean.
This bizarre island covered with bizarre structures, twisted and angled in ways that defy all architecture, making the island look like a great Escher painting. They stretched everywhere for miles and miles, and yet they were at such odd angles that there was no telling if they were really that long or only a few hundred feet across. No one could tell where one building ended and another began. Their confusion only grew as the sailors began to make their way across this island. They gaped about in nervous terror, looking at all of these bizarre structures. They squished through black slime that seemed to be oozing from every crack in every stone. All of the strange structures were covered with hideous hieroglyphs, from an age older than Egypt and far more fearsome. Through them all, despite some compulsion to continue to walk forward…they felt ever growing terror surrounding them, like they were wandering into a lion's den. Not one of them knew that they were on the very island from the dreams of the art students from around the world…
Abruptly, the sailors froze. Something rose from this structure. Far ahead of them, one great monolith stood out from the rest of the island. It was like some great slanted spike poking out of the ground. But surrounding it on every side were images of a great and terrible mixture of octopus and dragon. It was hideous and unnerving to behold. A great slab was separate from the rest of it, and it seemed to almost be a door…
The sailors approached the monolith and surrounded it. Moved by mankind's morbid curiosity, they both feared it and at the same time wished to see what was inside this strange uncharted island. They begin to look over it and see how the ruin might be opened. They were only able to do so for a few moments…before one of the sailors placed his hand on the side. The moment he did, there was a great hiss of steam. In shock, the other sailors leapt back from the ruin and gathered in front of it, staring up at the great structure. As they did…they saw the door suddenly come inward and begin to slide down into the ground. The sailors gaped in fear, yet unable to look away from this as a great hole was revealed in the side of the structure. They could only back away from the monolith and look within the darkness.
As they did, a great shadow slowly extruded itself from the interior of the ruin, calling out in a horrible voice. The shadow fell over the terrified sailors, and stretched itself out to its full height as they gaped in terror…
It was Great Cthulhu, twenty feet tall in all his abominable glory…awakened by accident rather than by the dark rituals of his demented followers…
…and he looked exactly like a twenty-foot tall version of his smaller plush counterparts.
Slowly, the sailors' fear turned to sudden admiration, as they were overcome with affection for the giant stuffed monster. They gave out a mutual "aw" in acclamation…before rushing forward and embracing the horrid high priest of the Great Old Ones and snuggling with his soft furriness.
Cthulhu waved his mitten-like fists and roared a terrible, heaven-rendering noise, showing off his horrible power for all mortals to see. However, after unfurling his wings and snarling for a moment…he began to realize that the humans weren't running. Puzzled…at least, it appeared so, because with only two black dots for eyes and a bunch of fluffy-filled tentacles for a mouth one could only express so much emotion…he looked down to them. Moments later, he roared another bloodcurdling cry, this time waving his mouth tentacles at them and beating his chest. But it was to no avail, as the sailors were too busy embracing the terrible alien.
Cthulhu dropped his arms at his sides, and his black button eyes blinked in confusion. Finally, he reached down, grabbed the nearest sailor, shoved him into his giant, horrendous mouth, and bit off his head. He roared again as he ripped the headless corpse out, dribbling blood all over his chin…but to no avail. The not-so-hideous monstrosity looked down upon them again, and blinked once more. Getting desperate, he then proceeded to turn the corpse of his grim repast over and shook the blood of the headless body out over the men. They didn't even react to this. Cthulhu threw the body aside, and saw that they still haven't changed. His button eyes slowly creased in frustration, and he placed his armsupon his hips. Could anyone have understood his maddening language, they would have heard something along the lines of the following…
I don't get it. This made the Neanderthals crap their pants.
After a few moments later, the otherworld monstrosity realized he was getting nowhere, and dropped his arms to his sides.
Screw this. I'm going back to bed.
Cthulhu turned around and began to walk back into his monolith. As he did, the joy of the sailors turned to sadness, at last reacting to an action by the monster. They began to run after him, begging him to stay with promises of cookies and lemonade. The horrid octopus dragon merely pushed them away and returned to his dark hole, sealing up the door to his lair. Once he was gone, the sailors continued to bang against the doorway, trying to get it to open again. They cried out loud and yelled for the monster to come back, sounding their own cries loud and long over the lay of the city of R'leyh…
They continued to bang on Cthulhu's door for seven days…until another "Call of Cthulhu" occurred, this time in the dreams of all the coast guards in the world, telling them to come to R'leyh and arrest these sailors for disturbing the peace. And now, my nephew, you know the truth behind the story of Cthulhu…
You also know the true reason behind the beanie animal sets, the international fan club, the McDonalds promotion, and, of course, the Saturday morning variety show.
The original cultists are mostly gone by now…having beaten their own heads in on seeing what their monstrous god became in the light of commercialism. Cthulhu's new followers mostly consist of Caucasian girls from the ages of four to twelve. Now, our world is gripped with the terror of Cthulhu in a way he could never suspect…with great toy corporations bankrupting us as we hopelessly try to keep up with the sheer volume of games, books, and clothing with his wretched name on it.
Despite their attempts to reduce us to a state of self-destructive nature, I can't help but feel some pity for these beings from another world. Because, at the end of the day…no matter how many you kill…how much flesh you devour…and how many unholy terrors you unleash…no one can truly be afraid of a race of bizarre aberrations that happen to be soft, squeezable, and cuddly.
This was where the journal ended. The young man, who had inherited it along with everything else from his late uncle, proceeded to slowly reach out and close the book, sealing away its incredible story. Slowly, he rested it back inside the trunk with the rest of his things, and sealed it up again.
Shortly after doing so, however, a smile spread across his face, as he turned to the soft, fluffy green monster that was resting in the crook of his arm. Slowly he reached out and rubbed its mouth tentacles as he talked to it in a babyish voice.
"Oh, don't you listen to mean ol' mister uncle, widdle Cthulhu. You're the cutest little monster I ever had! Yes you are! Yes you are! Let's go play with Mr. Yog-Sothoth!"
The End…?
Well, I think I got Lovecraft's corpse to turn over at least twice with that. What did you think? Good? Bad? Stupid?