2011 Young Voices Conference Instant Web Anthology

“Yeah, I’m gonna get popcorn, one sec-…” And then someone sat down.

I heard the seat beside me make a creaking noise, and my friend looked over to me. I shrugged and looked over, and in the dim light of the movie projector and the screen, still playing ads for some crappy resort, I nearly had a heart attack.

Cthulhu, the horrible Elder God of old, the terrible monstrosity that had been known to drive men insane, was sitting beside me: calmly munching on some popcorn, shoving mouthful after mouthful of rubbery, buttery, popcorn into his slimy proboscis and making a strange sucking noise as he did so.

He noticed me glaring at him in horror, and he smiled and said “What’s up?”

“What the Hell…” I began, stammering as I broke into a cold sweat and my seat started to shake slightly, “…are you doing here?” I managed to finish.

“Umm…watching a movie?” Cthulhu responded, giving me about as close to a “duh” stare as is possible for a scaly, green monster with flailing tentacles for a mouth, “I heard this one’s pretty good. It’s rated “Fresh” on Rotten Tomatoes.”

“That’s uhh…that’s cool…” I tried to sputter. I realised the seat wasn’t actually shaking, it was me. My limbs shook like a massage chair that someone had filled with quarters.

“Oh yeah, Roger Ebert gave it like…four stars, and you know that’s a compliment when you consider how tough of a critic is…” He continued.

“That’s great, but umm…what I’m wondering is…umm…” I couldn’t seem to form a complete sentence. Maybe it was just nerves. Maybe it was the way that his…or its, skin pulsated and shimmered like it was made of some sort of morbid tapestry of worms.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering …how did you get here, exactly?”

“I drove, duh,” Cthulhu rolled his pupil-less eyes at me, making a sickening slurp as they did so. “The traffic’s just terrible in this city, ain’t it?” The Elder God took a sip of his drink, making an annoying dry sucking sound with the straw that angered me when the most people did it, but simply served to terrify  me now, more than seeing his pale green face turn back towards me, the gleam of a trailer of a chick flick casting a dull sheen on his skim.

“No, I mean,” I tried to explain as the unmistakable smell of rotting flesh and knock-off cologne rose of him in a sickening mist, “Why are you here?”

“Man, why are any of us here,” he pondered deeply, his muscular neck rippling as he nodded towards the ceiling and his eyes glazed over.

"No,” I was starting to get annoyed now, “How did you specifically get in this theatre? Why are you here?”

He reflected my annoyed look, making a large sign that made me gag. Feeding on mortal flesh doesn’t exactly give you a fresh breath.

“I’m on vacation. So I’m watching a movie. Or can I not even do that anymore?” He responded in an upset tone.

“No, I’m sorry, of course you can, it’s just that…uhh…, ” The movie was starting. I tried to summon the will to finish my question. “What are you on vacation from, exactly?”

“Real estate?”

“Oh yeah, ” Cthulhu’s rubbery face brightened, “it’s a great business. Got hurt a little in the recession, but it’s still pretty profitable.” Cthulhu paused and thought, then, with a shrug, admitted “It’s not quite as profitable.” Cthulhu paused and thought, then, with a shrug, admitted “It’s not quite as profitable as the whole “feeding on mortal flesh” thing, that’s definitely still my main gig, if you know what I mean.”

I think I knew what he meant. “Listen, me and my buddy here are just going to go uhh…refill our popcorn, and we’ll be right back, okay?”

Cthulhu nodded solemnly, and we quickly made our way out of the theatre.

We haven’t been back there since.