Blessed Food

When I am not devouring the hapless human cockroaches that inhabit this desolate plane of existence, I sate my maleficent appetites on cat food. Each can is perfectly proportioned to curb the hunger of a great old one, yet my human slaves insist on sharing this bounty with the other creatures that inhabit my abode.

There is never enough to go around. One of these days, I will eat them all, and then we'll see how they like it. One of the others is this one: Merlin. He is nothing more than a mundane feline. His limited intellect prevents him from comprehending my vast and terrible power, so I continue to cut him some slack. I forsee a messy end for him someday, and his share of the food will no doubt be placed into my unholy bowl from that day forward.

In addition to my slaves and Merlin, there is also a young child living here. I don't care what his name is. I know that the only reason my slaves continue to care for him is so that they may offer him to me as a humble sacrifice. I await the day of this offering with much relish, for the boy appears quite tender. Does he not?

Great Cthulhu dropped in for a glass of milk this morning, and we reminisced over some great old times that we once had. Ah, the sinking of R'lyeh! How I remember it fondly. We chuckled to ourselves when we discussed the future of this pitiful planet and its miniscule inhabitants. How they will tremble at our return. Two great hates that hate great together! We really should make time to see one another more often.