Hey, Rob! It looks like Mark is spoofing your address . . .
At 12:55 AM 5/27/02, you wrote: >Where once my dreams were prosaic and bereft of qualities that could be >described as imaginative, I must now admit to restless and fitful short >bursts of sleep haunted by a fearful keening that at once ices the spine and >penetrates the soul. > >It was an unfortunate decision, made after a long and tedious funding >meeting of the science department staff that lasted well after midnight, to >seek after sustenance at the dingy yet rustic eatery perched at the edge of >the swamp across the road from our Miskatonic University offices. > >I was struck with trepidation as we entered the establishment, the doors did >not seem to swing inward as much as twist away as if the very geometry of >the place was somehow all wrong. Most of our group didnt seem to notice as >they were busy in discussion, and my strange presentiment bade me hold my >silence. We seated ourselves at linoleum topped tables banded with a curious >and clever aluminium alloy, the same alloy that capped the condiment >receptacles, that seemed to glow greenish in the corner of ones eye yet >reflected light in a perfectly normal way when ones vision was directed >toward it. > >The menus were indeed the strangest artifacts. With a script not unlike that >in the fabled tome written by the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, the desriptions >of the dishes were written in a style that closely resembled the prose of >The King In Yellow, the print almost seemed to squirm before me, causing me >to squint in order to clear my eyes, and instantly removing any desire to >eat in this international house of the damned. >I ordered an Evian and left it at that. > >I was told later that my escape was effected by my collegues Howard and >Phillips, both of whom sat at my table. Of the rest only three others >survived and I know that this scene was played out in the same brand of >restaurants in Arkham and Innsmouth, both of which, like the one near the >Miskatonic, were burned to the ground that very night. > >Halfway through the meal, Paebody of the geology department, was stricken >and turned gray as december on Mt Erbon. A few professors came from other >tables, when he began to shake and retch, thinking he was having a seisure. >Paebody began to scream, a long agonizing wail that was cut off when he >began to vomit, though vomit is not an accurate way to describe the atrocity >that befell him. From Paebodys mouth ejected a clear slime-like gel, but >instead of flying outward and spreading away from Paebody the gel-slime >sprungback and covered his head and at once began to dissolve his skin. >Paebody, obviously suffocating reached toward his face to clear his mouth, >but when he touched the gel his hands stuck fast and they to began to >dissolve. > >Someone next to him, Durham I think, grabbed Paebodys elbow in a futile >attempt to be of assistance, and the glob jumped the gap between them and >began to eat Durham. Everyone was frozen with shock and terror, muscles >locked and brains paralysed with numbing fear. >Suddenly the blob shot out pseudopods towards those nearby with blinding >speed destroying their flesh while the gel spread and grew at an alarming >pace. > >Then the cook and the waitstaff, obvious products of inbreeding, with their >frog-like faces with eyes set far to wide began their erie chant. >As one, as if with one mind, their voices shrill and chilling, they sang >out: >"Rooty Tooty, Fresh and Fruity.......Rooty Tooty, Fresh and Fruity..." > >I make my meals on a hotplate in my room at the boarding house. >I dont think I could bring myself to eat out. > > >xponent >Punch Line Maru >rob -- Ronn! :) God bless America, Land that I love! Stand beside her, and guide her Thru the night with a light from above. From the mountains, to the prairies, To the oceans, white with foam� God bless America! My home, sweet home. -- Irving Berlin (1888-1989)
