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Deviation Actions
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Her nihilist grandson took one small jar and carefully poured one quarter-teaspoonful of the canning liquid into the headwaters of the Mississippi, the Amazon, the Thames, the Rhine, the Yellow River, and the Nile.
He never slept well again--not because of the eldritch nightmares, but because of the protesters.
Mad cultists from the island nations picketed him for ignoring THEIR rivers. Obsessive nightgaunts haunted him for not using the metric system to measure out the nameless fluids of doom. The Westboro Baptist Church, whose minister had dreams of immoral couplings between Byakhee and Shoggoths, tried to mount a protest but couldn't come up with a catchy slogan. Two bloggers got into a fistfight over which one invented the hashtag #unearthlynamelesscoloredlivesmatter. Dow Chemical and Dupont lawyers eager for monopoly rights ended up brawling on his doorstep. Two city councilmen and a neighborhood-watch matron protested the disruption of local business.
Nothing was seen or heard of him for weeks until the odor of decaying meat drew the police to investigate.
They found his body wedged in the chimney where he had apparently climbed in such desperation that he had torn clothes, skin, and flesh in his attempt to flee whatever horror pursued him. Scrawled into the soot with bare fingerbones was the strange message, "Tell the paperboy I don't OWE him two dollars!"
He never slept well again--not because of the eldritch nightmares, but because of the protesters.
Mad cultists from the island nations picketed him for ignoring THEIR rivers. Obsessive nightgaunts haunted him for not using the metric system to measure out the nameless fluids of doom. The Westboro Baptist Church, whose minister had dreams of immoral couplings between Byakhee and Shoggoths, tried to mount a protest but couldn't come up with a catchy slogan. Two bloggers got into a fistfight over which one invented the hashtag #unearthlynamelesscoloredlivesmatter. Dow Chemical and Dupont lawyers eager for monopoly rights ended up brawling on his doorstep. Two city councilmen and a neighborhood-watch matron protested the disruption of local business.
Nothing was seen or heard of him for weeks until the odor of decaying meat drew the police to investigate.
They found his body wedged in the chimney where he had apparently climbed in such desperation that he had torn clothes, skin, and flesh in his attempt to flee whatever horror pursued him. Scrawled into the soot with bare fingerbones was the strange message, "Tell the paperboy I don't OWE him two dollars!"