They do not understand how it is in my nature to consume. Humans, animals. Mortals! They are all alike. Passionless, uncreative being the lot of them! And yet they scream and scamper when I crawl from my watery tomb. I have been trapped for millennia, and it feels wonderful to stretch my wings and wrap my tentacles around prey. Their buildings and cars are mere playthings; a rough exoskeleton hiding the delicious morsels inside. I only wish they had more originality. Even the ones who revere me bore me to no end! Groveling, sniveling little worms, not even worth a second glance. Their only attribute is being convenient and willing food. If I allow some of them to live, they spread my message and expand my cult, bringing me more effortless food. How truly wonderful it is! Be even after hundreds of years of slumber, they have not changed an ounce. It bores me, but just as equally, I love to hear them chant…

“Hail Cthluhu. Praise Cthulhu.”