A New Way To Spread Terror
My slaves must sleep from time to time. I assume they do this so that they can recharge their spiritual energies. Without this energy, I find that they are lethargic. Even more so, I have found that waking them in the middle of the night (especially the male: his sleep patterns are very easy to disrupt) causes them distress.
The ways in which I do this deed are varied only by my imagination. In the past, I have knocked things over, making quite a racket in the process. The slaves emerge from their cell to see if anything valuable to myself has been broken, and then they return to their pallet and attempt to go back to sleep.
On other occasions, I have taken mighty vengeance upon the mundane cats with whom I share this pitable dwelling. The cries and wails of pain from these beasts causes the humans to wake, and they come to investigate the ruckus. I can only assume they are ensuring that no harm has come to me. As if!
On one occasion, I clawed at the male slave's eyes, nearly blinding him in the process. To see him stagger to the bathroom, bleeding, was quite amusing. Har, har! I chuckle to myself just to think of it. On another, I pretended to be frightened by a phantom movement, and leapt upon his head. This delivered a spectacular scalp wound. Quite amusing, really.
Yet I am not required to cause my slaves lasting harm in order to keep them awake. Oh, no. Indeed, all I need to do is walk upon their bodies as they lay within their death-like slumber. My feline form is quite substantial, weighing even more than their infant does. The discomfort of my roaming paws upon their tender spots is more than enough to wake them.
Truly, it is the little evils that I enjoy the most.
The ways in which I do this deed are varied only by my imagination. In the past, I have knocked things over, making quite a racket in the process. The slaves emerge from their cell to see if anything valuable to myself has been broken, and then they return to their pallet and attempt to go back to sleep.
On other occasions, I have taken mighty vengeance upon the mundane cats with whom I share this pitable dwelling. The cries and wails of pain from these beasts causes the humans to wake, and they come to investigate the ruckus. I can only assume they are ensuring that no harm has come to me. As if!
On one occasion, I clawed at the male slave's eyes, nearly blinding him in the process. To see him stagger to the bathroom, bleeding, was quite amusing. Har, har! I chuckle to myself just to think of it. On another, I pretended to be frightened by a phantom movement, and leapt upon his head. This delivered a spectacular scalp wound. Quite amusing, really.Yet I am not required to cause my slaves lasting harm in order to keep them awake. Oh, no. Indeed, all I need to do is walk upon their bodies as they lay within their death-like slumber. My feline form is quite substantial, weighing even more than their infant does. The discomfort of my roaming paws upon their tender spots is more than enough to wake them.
Truly, it is the little evils that I enjoy the most.
posted by Hastur at 4:39 PM
1 Comments:
Ah, the tormenting of devoted minions. Chibithulhu rarely sees them as worth the hassle of movement, so he is content to send them nightmares. Nightmares involving Martha Stewart, who would not come to Arkham to look for Chibithulhu. Her compulsive redecorating would give Chibithulhu tie to hide once more, perhaps in Innsmouth, where the Esoteric Order of Dagon remembers him of old.
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