You Can't Keep a Good Old One Down

I'm back... and yes, I still revile the lot of you. Insignificant motes of dust, your species, barely suited to a handful of menial chores. If not for my boredom, I would have swatted you aside with an entropic paw millennia ago.

Disturbing

I have learned that there is another four-legged beast in this pitiable, doomed world that shares my name. His owner has erected a small page to honor him. This disturbs me, and I will tell you why. Oh, yes. I will tell you.

You might know that I am referred to as the Unspeakable Cat for a reason. Every time my name is invoked, there is a slim chance that I might be whisked away to the presence of the speaker, whereapon I shall wreak unholy vengeance upon the unfortunate scum.

I have grown adept at ignoring these calls, for it can be quite annoying to be taken from my current task, far from the meager comforts of my slaves' dwelling, and suddenly put into a situation where I must reduce a soul to ribbons with my rending claws. Once, I was in the midst of a visit to the litterbox, and someone spoke my name. You can bet they got more than they bargained for...

Every time my name is spoken, I feel a tug. This would not be unlike a tug upon my tail, only in an ethereal sense...my spiritual tail, you might say. Occasionally, these calls become so constant as to be more than annoying. I feel that this other cat, this mere imposter, is the cause. Its owner, calling its name; perhaps summoning it to dine on kibble, or for a saucer of sweet milk.

Despite this horrible revelation, do not forget: I am the Unspeakable Cat. There are no others before me. Get this right, and I may deign to use your spine as a scratching post after the return of the Old Ones...

Fresh Meat

As mentioned in my previous posts, my slaves were with child when last I awoke. In no time at all, they have unleashed their newest spawn upon the world. I regret that I did not take the initiative in conditioning their first child as soon as it was born. I will not make the same mistake twice.

"I have teeth, human. Sharp ones. You do not."
The first step is to ensure that the child understands who the superior being is. I am obviously superior, given my natural weaponry, omniscience, and infinite power. The newest child is yet young, but I am sure that its earliest memories will be of me, my fetid breath, and my horrible visage.

It's Never Too Early To Drive Them Insane
Next comes an intense regimen of instruction in the Mythos and the ways of the Elder Gods. I find it ironic that this youngling will know of the Crawling Chaos before it can, itself, crawl. Such lessons will drive the tiny creature to madness, and as it will know no other mode of thought, this will seem completely normal to it, right from the beginning! How delicious!

It's A Dirty Job, But Someone Must Do It.
Yes, I certainly have my work cut out for me, but few things are more rewarding than corrupting the young.

Can I Truly Contain My Wrath?

Things have changed; new things have been added to my dwelling in my absence. Amongst them, a chair of such exquisite softness that it must have been selected by my slaves for me alone. It is crafted in the form of a crazed ursine beast, its fur a sickly hue of blue.

The other cats, dumb animals that they are (though slightly smarter than the humans who see to my every whim), often attempt to sit upon my new throne when I am preoccupied with evil deeds. Rest assured, I punish them severely for their audacity.

The Sight of my Throne is Maddening, Yes?
Perhaps worst of all is the child. It seems to feel entitled to all within its limited reach, including me. I have, thus far, refrained from unleashing my limitless wrath upon this tiny morsel; given his fluency in the tongue of the sleeping spawn of Cthulhu, he may yet be of some use to me.

It is never wise to squander potential resources before their usefulness has been completely spent.

The Foolish Child Taunts Me Yet Again
I am all too sure that a time will come when I must exert a fraction of my infinite power so that I might remind my slaves and their babbling offspring just who it is they are dealing with. I ask for very little from them, for I know that they are incapable of pleasing all by my basest of whims. I offer this mercy, and yet they fail to realize that a slow demise has yet again been denied them. What pathetic insects these humans are.

Trifle Not With ME, Human!
And so, as the universe continues to shift closer to its ultimate destruction, I wait, tolerating my current circumstances with barely-concealed distaste.

Mark my words: the end is closer than you realize.

My Sleep of Aeons

As I have slept these past millennia...er...months. These past months, actually. As I have slept, I have wandered the Dreamlands, haunting the nocturnal musings of countless folk with the sound of my terrible purring and the press of my heavy feet.

I returned to my roots for a time, bathing in the ethereal waters of Hali, and wandering the streets of Carcosa in search of prey...

I peered into the heart of the very evil that humans fear most, and came away refreshed...

Then, once more, I returned to this wretched felid form to exert my will upon the homosapien vermin that infest my lair.

I Have Returned!
In the time of my absence, much has transpired. The slaves that maintain me have gone and done it again, creating another child. I should have known better than to leave them alone, unsterilized. In the meantime, the first child that was spawned by virtue of their mortal lusts has grown ever larger, ever more mobile, ever more vocal. It not only cries, but it speaks, as well!

As young as their offspring is, he does not yet comprehend my vast and terrible power. He follows me, grabbing for my tail, spewing forth a litany of lunacy. The slaves laugh and smile at his babble. Were they to understand that he is actually speaking the forgotten language of R'lyeh, I doubt that they would be as enthusiastic.