Merry Cthulhumas

[Caliga]

Away in lost R'lyeh
with tentacled head
the Great Lord Cthulhu
lies dreaming, not dead
Strange stars in the night sky align where he lay,
Colossal Cthulhu shall rise on this day!

The Deep Ones are gurgling, the Mi-Go awake,
they whisper in darkness, my mind they doth take
I love thee, Cthulhu, I hear from afar
Thy blasphemous chanting from inside my jar!

The oceans are boiling, His cultists say, yea
the Necronomicon has foretold this day!
As Abdul al-Hazred the madman foresaw,
Our world shall meet its doom inside Cthulhu's maw.



If I'm bored and have another patch of downtime I'll make up some more. 

[Ed Anger]

cthulhu sucks

[Caliga]

cthulhu sucks

[Ed Anger]

cthulhu sucks

I don't see the fascination.

But hey man, don't let me be a buzzkill. 

[Darth Wagtaros]

TOR books is making a big deal of Cthulumass.

[Caliga]

I don't see the fascination.

Lovecraft is like the proto-Stephen King.  Nigga deserves some RESPECK.

[Ed Anger]

I don't see the fascination.

Lovecraft is like the proto-Stephen King.  Nigga deserves some RESPECK.

I'd rather suffer through Gor again.

[Caliga]

You're hurting my feelings.

[Ed Anger]

You're hurting my feelings.

I'm bored.

[Syt]

I Am Scrooge: A Zombie Story for Christmas

Marley was dead. Again. The legendary Ebenezeer Scrooge sits in his house counting money. The boards that he has nailed up over the doors and the windows shudder and shake under the blows from the endless zombie hordes that crowd the streets hungering for his flesh and his miserly braaaaiiiiiinns! Just how did the happiest day of the year slip into a welter of blood, innards and shambling, ravenous undead on the snowy streets of old London town? Will the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future be able to stop the world from drowning under a top-hatted and crinolined zombie horde? Was Tiny Tim's illness something infinitely more sinister than mere rickets and consumption? Can Scrooge be persuaded to go back to his evil ways, travel back to Christmas past and destroy the brain stem of the tiny, irritatingly cheery Patient Zero? It's the Dickensian Zombie Apocalypse - God Bless us, one and all!

[Viking]

Cthulu pwn3d

[Darth Wagtaros]

I Am Scrooge: A Zombie Story for Christmas

Marley was dead. Again. The legendary Ebenezeer Scrooge sits in his house counting money. The boards that he has nailed up over the doors and the windows shudder and shake under the blows from the endless zombie hordes that crowd the streets hungering for his flesh and his miserly braaaaiiiiiinns! Just how did the happiest day of the year slip into a welter of blood, innards and shambling, ravenous undead on the snowy streets of old London town? Will the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future be able to stop the world from drowning under a top-hatted and crinolined zombie horde? Was Tiny Tim's illness something infinitely more sinister than mere rickets and consumption? Can Scrooge be persuaded to go back to his evil ways, travel back to Christmas past and destroy the brain stem of the tiny, irritatingly cheery Patient Zero? It's the Dickensian Zombie Apocalypse - God Bless us, one and all!

http://www.amazon.com/Last-Christmas-Brian-Posehn/dp/1582406766/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1260806308&sr=8-3

[Malthus]

Heh you've probably seen this before ... http://lolthulhu.com/

[saskganesh]

Cal you should know that at this time of the year it clearly inappropriate to celebrate the existence of an imaginary being. 

seasons greetings. 

[grumbler]

I'd rather suffer through Gor again.

HOUSEPLANTS OF GOR

The spider plant cringed as its owner brought forth the watering can. "I am a spider plant!" it cried indignantly. "How dare you water me before my time! Guards!" it called. "Guards!"

Borin, its owner, placed the watering can on the table and looked at it. "You will be watered," he said.

"You do not dare to water me!" laughed the plant.

"You will be watered," said Borin.

"Do not water me!" wept the plant.

"You will be watered," said Borin.

I watched this exchange. Truly, I believed the plant would be watered. It was plant, and on Gor it had no rights. Perhaps on Earth, in its permissive society, which distorts the true roles of all beings, which forces both plant and waterer to go unh appy and constrained, which forbids the fulfillment of owner and houseplant, such might not happen. Perhaps there, it would not be watered. But it was on Gor now, and would undoubtedly feel its true place, that of houseplant. It was plant. It would be watered at will. Such is the way with plants.

Borin picked up the watering can, and muchly watered the plant. The plant cried out. "No, Master! Do not water me!" The master continued to water the plant. "Please, Master," begged the plant, "do not water me!" The master continued to water the plant. It was plant. It could be watered at will.

The plant sobbed muchly as Borin laid down the watering can. It was not pleased. Too, it was wet. But this did not matter. It was plant.

"You have been well watered," said Borin.

"Yes," said the plant, "I have been well watered." Of course, it could be watered by its master at will.

"I have watered you well," said Borin.

"Yes, master," said the plant. "You have watered your plant well. I am plant, and as such I should be watered by my master."

The cactus plant next to the spider plant shuddered. It attempted to cover its small form with its small arms and small needles. "I am plant," it said wonderingly. "I am of Earth, but for the first time, I feel myself truly plantlike. On Earth, I w as able to control my watering. I often scorned those who would water me. But they were weak, and did not see my scorn for what it was, the weak attempt of a small plant to protect itself. Not one of the weak Earth waterers would dare to water a plant if it did not wish it. But on Gor," it shuddered, "on Gor it is different. Here, those who wish to water will water their plants as they wish. But strangely, I feel myself most plantlike when I am at the mercy of a strong Gorean master, who may water m e as he pleases."

"I will now water you," said Borin, the cactus's Gorean master.

The cactus did not resist being watered. Perhaps it was realizing that such watering was its master's to control. Too, perhaps it knew that this master was far superior to those of Earth, who would not water it if it did not wish to be watered.

The cactus's watering had been finished. The spider plant looked at it.

"I have been well watered," it said.

"I, too, have been well watered," said the cactus.

"My master has watered me well," said the spider plant.

"My master, too, has watered me well," said the cactus.

"I am to be placed in a hanging basket on the porch," said the spider plant.

"I, too, am to be placed in a hnaging basket on the porch," said the cactus.

"I wish you well," said the spider plant.

"I, too, wish you well," said the cactus.

"Tal," said the spider plant.

"Tal, too," said the cactus.

I did not think that the spider plant would object to being watered by its master again. For it realized that it was plant, and that here, unlike on Earth, it was likely to be owned and watered by many masters.

http://www.rdrop.com/~wyvern/data/houseplants.html