“On the Menu Stains of Madness” • 22

 

Abdul the line cook hands you a soda and a basket of cthalamari and tells you to take a dinner break. You find a secluded booth away from the patrons and bite into the fried batter. The rubbery flesh parts between your teeth, pulsing with dark power, but it tastes of the bottom of the sea, the void between worlds, and the stuff you clean out of the dish trap.

Do you…?

Throw the food out.

Partake of the flesh of the Dormant God.