Lovecraft and MnM’s After Dark

I called in sick today.  The very first time I ever malingered from work.  It is exactly 15 minutes to midnight, right when my shift starts.  I am about to open a pleasantly enormous bag of delicious MnM’s (my favorite), the only comfort for what I will be delving in tonight.  The lights went  off the kitchen 10 minutes ago.  At this point in time, everybody is in thier cosmic sheltered altered dreamscapes.


In the cover of darkness, I stealthily take out the leather bounded book, laced with a golden illustration of a nameless creature I dare not, could not describe.  “NECRONOMICON”, the title says.  My heart pounds like that of a piston pump drilling the hardest rock  at the blood red mines of Sierra Leon.  The morbid footfalls of cats leering and jeering at thing only thier neon eyes could see.  I could here every sound now.  Everything.

The lamp flickers, its as if it is coaxing me to smash it up and read the book under the wicked light of the moon.  No I will not do that.  The audacity of my antedeluvian fascination for necropolitic phantasms will not permit.  I am not that insane.

Popping in two hard covered MnM’s with my left hand, I stop to analyze how ironic thier colorful imagery can pale under the deepest blackest thoughts darkening my mind in my right hand.  The book is pure evil.
I want it now. 

It is time.

Time stands still and I am sucked into the vortex of space and time unknown, where gothic and abominable horror exist, where only the blind and the deaf would be happy knowing that those capable of sight and sound can only go mad at what is at hand and where oblivion is better than being alive. 

It is time…

I read.

This, when all the legends warned me to never dare read a Lovecraft after dark.  But here I am.  I defy.