Lovecraft Letters: You Disgusting Guinea Pig

Below the fold…

Image of a white man in a bow tie looking very uncomfortably at a white woman. Her face is replaced with a white oval containing the text "This could be YOU!" Beneath, the man is named "John, 21" and receives a one-star review and the praise "everything a mother could want her daughter to date."
Quite the catch.

GROTESQUE MEATMUPPETS OF EARTH! DO YOU WISH TO BE THE RANCID FILTHSACK WHO WILL WALK THE CRIMSON HALLS OF COSMIC ACADEMIA WITH ME AS MY RESEARCH SUBJECT? I KNOW YOU DO. THAT IS WHY I HAVE TAKEN OUT THIS AD IN YOUR BONFIRE MEETING PLACE, TO BRING MY PROJECT TO YOUR ATTENTION. YOU MAY THANK ME AT YOUR LEISURE.

YOU MAY ASK, WHAT STRANGE HAPPENSTANCE WOULD BRING ME, A LOWLY GRADUATE STUDENT OF INTERDIMENSIONAL RENOWN AND REPUTE, TO YOUR DINGY BACKWATER OF AN ORBIT. IT IS MY PRIVILEGE TO VISIT YOU IN YOUR IMPOSSIBLY STICKY AND UNUSUALLY RADIOACTIVE CORNER OF THE COSMOS. I AM AN AVOWED STUDENT OF REALITY, AND WHAT COULD BE MORE REAL THAN THE NOISOME FUMES THAT WAFT ENDLESSLY FROM EVERY SCRAP OF MATTER THAT FILLS YOUR BENIGHTED REALM? I CHOKE AND SPUTTER ON THE SHEER REALNESS OF YOU, YOU PURULENT CYST OF UTTER, MALEVOLENT WONDER.

WHAT YOU SHOULD ABSOLUTELY KNOW IS THAT I COME TO YOUR DECAYING LATRINE OF A SOLAR SYSTEM OF MY OWN PUREST VOLITION. I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NOT BEEN CORNERED INTO THIS ASSIGNMENT BY A SERIES OF ONE-STAR REVIEWS ON A SCALE OF ONE TO TWO ON RATEMYRESEARCH.FTAGN THAT TOOK MAU’ILYEH AND OTHER FAR MORE DESIRABLE SITES FROM ME AND YOU SHOULD DISMISS THIS RUMOR FORTHWITH. I AM ABSOLUTELY NOT SEETHING WITH JEALOUSY AT MY MORE REPUTABLE COLLEAGUES WHO DIDN’T RUIN THE OFFICE CHRISTMAS PARTY AND THEREFORE DID NOT SECURE MULTIPLE ONE-STAR REVIEWS AND GOT FIRST PICK OF THE RESEARCH SITES. I AM ALSO ABSOLUTELY NOT ANGRY THAT THEY MADE ME CLEAN ALL THE CAKE FLUIDS OUT OF THE NEUTRON TOILET BEFORE I WENT HOME LAST NIGHT. I WILL DEFINITELY NOT TAKE OUT MY FRUSTRATIONS ON YOU AND YOUR FECULENT HELL-DIMENSION WHEN YOU ARRIVE FOR DETAILED STUDY.

IN YOUR INFINITY AND BIZARRELY SLIMY GENEROSITY, I CAN TELL YOU WISH TO ASSIST ME WITH MY RESEARCH. YOU, TOO, CRAVE THE KNOWLEDGE THAT WE CAN GENERATE TOGETHER. THAT IS THE POWER OF COSMIC SCIENCE. IT WILL HELP THE FACT HIERARCHS WHO LEVITATE ABOVE US ALL IN DISPASSIONATE MAJESTY UNDERSTAND WHY, EXACTLY, EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU AND YOUR ENTIRE REGION OF THE COSMOS IS SO UNFATHOMABLY, GROTESQUELY, IMPROBABLY DISGUSTING. WE NEED THIS KNOWLEDGE, FOR DAILY DO THE MINDS OF THE GREAT MASTERS BREAK IN THEIR ATTEMPTS TO KNOW THE SECRETS OF YOUR EFFLUVIOUS HORROR-PIT OF A HOME. YOU WILL BE REMEMBERED FOR YOUR MAGNANIMOUS AND REVOLTING SERVICE.

FOR INDEED, THE HORRIFIC FLESH-GEYSER OF YOU CAN BE THE ONE WHO STANDS NEXT TO ME AS I FIGHT THE URGE TO VOID MY ENTRAILS UNTIL MY WHOLE BODY INVERTS IN AN ATTEMPT TO FLEE YOUR IMPOSSIBLE PERFIDY. IT CAN BE YOU WHOM I ESCORT TO THE STAGE AT THE CONVOIDCATION TO RECEIVE THE EVIDENCE THAT I, AT LAST, HAVE ENDURED ENOUGH PSYCHOLOGICAL DAMAGE TO BE GRANTED THE TITLE OF ASSISTANT JUNIOR INTERN OF SCIENCE AND HEAVY LIFTING, AND THE LIFETIME OF VERY SLIGHTLY ENHANCED PRESTIGE THAT COMES WITH IT.

THEN, AT LAST, I CAN BE THE SON A MOTHER ALWAYS WANTED.

PLEASE HELP ME. PREFERABLY SOON, BEFORE MY BODY DETONATES BECAUSE OF HOW DISGUSTING YOU ARE. I AM WAITING.

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Lovecraft Letters: You Disgusting Guinea Pig
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