The Cabal of Thotash

by J. Zachary Pike

“No, no, I get that,” said the man. “I mean, are you Republicans or Democrats?” “The earth shall burst like a fat boil and denizens of shadow shall lick the marrow from the bones of the idle!” shouted the Hand. “Who cares for your paltry government?” “I’m a taxpayer. I care,” said the man. The Mouth intervened. “What my associate is trying to say is that we hope to end existence as we know it before the next election cycle.” “Oh. Not interested,” said the man. He deposited his pamphlet in a nearby trashcan as he walked away. It was already overflowing with identical pamphlets.

“Well, one possibility is that this was some evil society dedicated to the service of one of the Professor’s elder beings from beyond time. A being so powerful, mind you, that somewhere between four a.m. and six a.m. this morning it forced entry into our reality, tracked down a few hundred of its own worshippers for some offense, made such a mess of them that it’ll take forensics years to figure out who’s who, and wrote words on the wall in their bodily substances that’ll make weak-minded men go mad. And, if that were the case, and this is the crucial bit,” the Detective growled, leaning in close to the Lieutenant, “we’d have to investigate it.” The lieutenant gulped. Lafont straightened up and brushed the crumbs off his coat. “Or a bunch of nutjobs in some cult committed mass suicide.” “Ah,” said the lieutenant. After a thoughtful pause, he added, “Terrible thing, mass suicide. Such a shame they went that route.”