Date: Mon, 11 Sep 2006 23:41:21 -0400
Subject: [ark] Re: dreams!

In alt.religion.kibology, jmbay@elaine30.Stanford.EDU wrote:

nickb@eris.io.com (Nick Bensema) writes:
>Perhaps, but my book has an even better gimmick.  I discourage
>the reader from progressing through the book by trying to
>convince them that there's a monster living at the end.

The Deliquescent, Shuddersome Monster At The End Of This Tome

Of Terror And Madness

Starring Blasphemous, Indescribable Cthulhu

by August Derleth, writer

Gentle Reader,

    There exist facets to the mercifully concealed realities
of existence, not only those which walk, or gibber, or dance
mindlessly at the center of reality or in dark, inaccessible
places in the cthonic blackness of the secret depths of the
very earth itself, but also within this very same tome which
you hold in your rugose appendages, that are perhaps best not
to even mention, and instead should be kept secret and not
written about--even in jest, for their effect upon the common
man would involve sequelae including but not limited to their
gruesomely shuddersome visage utterly blasting away to shattered
fragments the sanity of the very beholder who reads of them.
    The reader is therefore advised to consult a competent
physician, and even then not to peruse any further this accounting
of a horror so indescribable that it cannot even be described,
which is really for the best I suppose, but even though it is
not in the least bit possible to convey in any way except the
most annoyingly vague way the horrifying, soul-blasting reality
of what we saw upon the final page of this very folio--for the
monster which defies description is indeed lurking blasphemously
upon the ultimate page hereof--I must nonetheless <italics> insist
that you heed my admonishment against you perusing this treatise any
further!</italics>
    To reiterate, for the love of God, do not continue to read
to the end of this book--in fact, stop reading now, as it could
well be that even reading the warning about how indescribably,
incomprehensibly beyond your ability to understand this eldritch
monster is could have serious effects on your ability to engage
in non-gibbering-related activities.  You really don't want to
lay eyes upon the refulgent, glutinous nightmare from beyond the
memory of Man, which as I have mentioned, waits squamously on the
final page of this monograph.
    Of the details of how I came to understand the incomprehensible
nature of this indescribably porous miscreation, I find it arduous
even now, with the merciful glaze of the intervening years and
my fallible and incomplete memory, to write of, or even to type of,
as the horror and madness return as if new, in spite of the
quotidian and humdrum life I now lead as a tenured member of the
faculty at Miskatonic University (Go, fightin' cephalopods!), where
so many of those dread Muppets (oh, what a giveaway) are hidden in
ancient, obscure, and badly-written texts in the library, and also
some of the students' pages on facebook.
     In any case I shall be describing things so mind-shatteringly
indescribable as to drive anyone to utter madness and despair,
except me obviously, I'm certainly still sane for some reason,
but first I must warn you again <italics> not to read any further, because
of the aforementioned Horror from the Dark Places Man Was Not Meant
To Know, which in addition to being squamous is also rugose and noisome!
     The horrific and indescribably despair-inducing monster of
which I speak has only been dreamed of by the maddest of madmen,
and even then only when they've overdone it a bit on the laudanum.
In fact, it's even worse than that, if you can imagine such a thing,
and you can't, of course, but let it suffice for you that I tell you
that <even more slanted italics> the most obscene and hellish imaginings
of a mad Arab with a fever and who is also under the influence of
opiates and has stayed awake for several days, were such a blasphemy
to foist its oleaginous and noisome flesh upon the uncaring world,
would itself weep with shuddersome, outlandish horror at the pendulous
crustaceosity of the unutterable being--<now the letters are pretty
much sideways>at the end of this book!!!1!!one!!
     </sideways>
     </very slanted italics>
     </regular italics>
    Those of you who are still reading this eerie account of the
obscene and incoherent vaguely cylindrical monstrosity that I have
tried in vain to warn you not to behold, what with the likely damage
to your sanity, should turn back now, lest you too have your mind
turned to pliable amorphous jelly by the disfigured, disgusting,
distorted, dreadful, dripping, deathless horror at the end of this
<italics>unutterable and damned text!</italics>

[So ends the fragmentary text of The Deliquescent, Shuddersome
Monster At The End Of This Tome.  The author, Professor Harold
Astor, was found curled under a table in the Miskatonic University
library's Blasphemous Books collection, having eaten the last
pages of the book, and completely insane.  His only words since
have been adjectvies.  Friends of Professor Astor said they were
"not really all that surprised"; one, speaking on condition of
anonymity, described the monster as "alitrunk rugose, humeri
with tubercules; propodeal spines short; postpetiole laterally
angular, with transverse striations; basal segment of gaster
striate-punctate; dull ferruginous".  He, too, is thought to be
insane.
   We were originally going with having the last page be a shiny
piece of mylar or something, with the monster being you, the reader,
but the publisher decided it would be too expensive and suggested
we go with this punch-out ending instead.  Also, everyone involved
died.  THE END]














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