A mysterious person going by the name Red Mage sent me the following poem. If your kiddies are still awake and having trouble sleeping, you might want to read it aloud to them. Then they’ll really have trouble sleeping.
‘Twas the night before Squidmas, and all through the house
Not a cultist was stirring, not even a Dagon.
The sacrifices were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Cthulu would not pass past there.
The cultists were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of things man was not supposed to know writhed in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long eon’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny Old Gods.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Cthulu.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he burbled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now Hastur! now, Ut’ulls-Hr’her! now, Zhar and Lloigor!
On, Eihort! On, Yig! on, on Nug and Yeb!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of horrors, and Great Cthulu too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each tentacle.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Great Cthulu came with a bound.
He was undressed all in tentacles, from his head to his foot,
And they were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of monsters he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how scary!
His cheeks were like squids, his nose like a cavernous pit of evil!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the tendrils of his chin was as dark as the city of R’lyeh.
The stump of a man he held tight in his teeth,
And the screams it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a not-so-little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jellied remains!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Squid,
And I whimpered when I saw him, in spite of myself!
But a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And killed all those he came for, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his tendril aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Squidmas to all, and to all a good-night!”