Happy Birthday Howard Phillips!

Happy Birthday Howard Phillips!

Happy birthday H.P. Lovecraft!

A lot of the stuff I write is inspired by Lovecraft.  Here’s the latest bit of silliness.

SEWER SQUID a short Lovecraftian Play by John Weagly

(Lights up.  A street corner with a storm drain.  ALICE and TOM stand near the drain.)

ALICE: Tell me what you saw.

TOM: I was walking out to my car and I glanced this way and saw a giant tentacle slither down into the sewer.  It was huge – ten, maybe fifteen feet.  A tentacle!

ALICE: You were right to call me.

TOM: When I moved in, everyone said you know everything that goes on in the neighborhood.

ALICE: That I do.  The sewer squid is back.

TOM: Sewer squid?

ALICE: Yes, the sewer squid.  It was on a night just like this, seven years ago…

TOM: It’s afternoon.  2:15.  The sun is out.

ALICE: The first of May.

TOM: Today is the first of May.

ALICE: It was the orgy to end all orgies…

TOM: Wait… Orgy?

ALICE: Yes, Tom!  The weekly neighborhood orgy.  Can I finish my story?

TOM: Sorry.

ALICE: It was on a night just like this, seven years ago at the orgy to end all orgies.  The neighborhood was a tangle of legs and arms and mouths and fingers.  We were taking a breather when Jasper Quintaine said “Hey!  Since we’ve got a minute, why don’t we read from this book I found at the Eldritch Delights Used Book Shop!”  The volume was old and dusty and made your skin itch just by looking at it.  Jasper read some incantations and we repeated them – chants and hexes and a disturbing recipe for calamari.  Before we fully understood what we were doing, the veil between realities ripped open and a squid the size of a Volkswagen Beetle tumbled into our world. 

TOM: My God!

ALICE: He sat there, in the living room, tentacles writhing and beak screeching among the lubricants and adult magazines and sex toys.  We were able to get him out of the house – the whole naked neighborhood chasing him down the street.  When we reached this corner, the monstrosity wriggled down this storm drain.  We didn’t see him again, until the following year on the first of May.

TOM: The realtor didn’t mention this when I bought the house. 

ALICE: Nobody know where he goes – back to his dimension, or to the deepest, darkest corners of the Mariana Trench or, maybe, over two counties to Marblehead and points beyond – nobody knows.  But he always returns on the day we invited him into our reality.

TOM: So, what do we do?  Call the police?  Animal control?  The Marine Biology Department at the Trade School?

ALICE: We don’t do anything.  Just don’t get too close to the storm drain.  And if you have pets, don’t let them out.  He’ll be gone tomorrow. 

TOM: That’s it?  That’s easy.

ALICE: We like to think of ourselves as a simple, quiet, respectable community.

TOM: That’s why I moved here.

(ALICE and TOM start to walk back to their houses.)

TOM: So, when are these orgies?

ALICE: Every Thursday at 7:00 at the Miller’s.  Be sure to hydrate.  And bring snacks!

(They exit.  Lights down.)