In the Eldritch Kitchen, the sous-chef-who-shall-not-be-named prepares tentacle pot pie. The unspeakable silence that stirs mens’ souls to remember dark secrets forgotten by the collective unconscious in moments of stark terror prepares and dices the chicken. A shadowy, unearthly figure whose face is etched in lines that recall non-Euclidean geometry gets the pastry dough just right. Then… and only then, Cthulu eats.
In honor of Paul, the psychic octopus.