Another late night, another even later clandestine meeting. The instructions were clear enough and the location not that far. What did that one guy say that time in London just before I ate him and his too curious colleague? The games afoot? Something like that. Seems like an apt statement for this evening, and things were getting much more interesting by the minute. A face-to-face meeting with the other participants was called for in an out-of-the way corner of a discreet alley under a lamp post. Bitching. The hard part would be to behave himself. The Great Cthulhu was hungry but apparently there were rules to be followed and he had already resigned himself to not eat his fellow contestants. Damned hungrry. Damn it. Not just regular damned hungry either. Nope. Damned hungrry. Damned hungry with TWO "r"'s.

The Great Cthulhu loves this city. Rough around the edges like a Tijuana hooker. Too bad it wasn't built for someone of The Great Cthulhu's size. Trying to sluggle down the narrow-assed alleys with any semblance of grace was a futile venture. Have to stumble and squeeze and ooze along instead. Scares the hell out of people to tell you the truth. People see The Great Cthulhu, well...if they don't immediately lose their fragile hold on sanity they usually only have two words to say before fleeing for their lives. The first, a guttural verb. The second word is usually you. Usually.

Twisting and turning, tucking in his stubby wings, squeezing further down the alley...the lamp post finally comes into view. A halo of moths circle the lamp, casting odd shadows upon the ground. The crisp air and the hint of danger hardened The Great Cthulhu's resolve like that magic shell stuff he likes on his ice cream. Taking a moment to study the faces of the others gathered here reminds the Great Cthulhu of the nature of this contest and it's seriousness. It also reminds him that he is double r damned hungrry damn it. If SuperStar SuperNinja Rock Lee wanted them to gather out in the open air then so be it. The Great Cthulhu will wait and behave himself.

Turning and drawing his wings in tight, The Great Cthulhu steps ou under the light.

Long was the struggle. Hard the fight. Gott damn hard. The Great Cthulhu had bruises on his bruises. Mementos of the adventure that he had just been through. Well, technically bruises from stumbling around liquored up all day if you want to know the truth. N'awlins was a sanctified southern shimboree of decadence and debauchery. His kind of town alright. The Windy City was a hustlin'-bustlin' whirlwind of a good time, full of great people and excellent snackfood (sorry Mr. Mayor). New York? Fuggedaboutit. The Big apple was jumping, Skippy. More action than you could shake a claw at. The Great Cthulhu, Lovable scamp and Star-Spawned SuperStar, had rocked them all this evening. Big time. Blazing a trail cross county and making appearances wherever he went. A couple of places he had to finagle his way in to...others he just sluggled right on in. The Great Cthulhu makes no distinction between invocation, invitation, and breaking-n-entering. Same animal different names. Semantics phooey. Evidence of his arrival in each city was plainly evident by the trail of dead and the empty bottles.

The Great Cthulhu smiled to himself, He could have stayed here the whole time and visited each location via interdimensional teleportation. Would have taken seconds. Literally. What's the fun in that though? Hell, truth be told, The Great Cthulhu had actually ridden on an airplane from Chicago to New York. Not inside of one mind you. The Great Cthulhu has standards to uphold. It was a hoot though, straddling the fuselage of that dc-7 like a cephalopodic cowboy. Yee-haw mi amigos. Yee-haw.

His time well spent and his answer to the contest question given, The Great Cthulhu nods his bulbous tentacled head at his fellow competitors in turn. The hard part was over. Drunkenly crawling that last few yards to the lamp post (of which he was certain he saw three of) took a lot out of him. Crafting your buzz so that you get to where you're going before the high wears off and the hungry sets in is a skill long known to the Great Cthulhu. Raising himself up, The Great Cthulhu leans nonchalantly against the most solid looking surface and pokes through his bag from "The Chocolate Menagerie". Mmmmmmm, chewy chewy hellishly gooey caramel cuttlefish. The great Cthulhu's favorite. You know the ones. Yeah, you get a leg that gets stuck in between the last two molars on the upper left, on the tongue side where you can't possibly reach them with a toothpick, your fingernails, or even a systematically straightened paper clip, they just sit there and make everything you eat at your next meal taste vaguely like caramel. Thems the ones.

The Great Cthulhu, time on his hands, polishes the bag off and waits.