I like to imagine that Satan has this adorable goat pen out back where he lovingly tends to all the goats that have been sacrificed to him.
Always a bridesmaid, never the Brideslord, summoning the nation’s brides to war with a mighty blast of the brideshorn.
12yo: Can we go to a haunted house this year?
Me: What’s wrong with the one we live in?
Me: Goodnight, son.
Blood’s thicker than water, so remember to pull back on the flour a bit when you substitute it into your baking.
It’s more accurate to say “deaths were postponed” than “lives were saved”
I want to create an alternative to ‘Pokémon Go’ called ‘Cthulhu Run.’ instead of chasing down Pokémon, various Lovecraftian entities spawn continuously and pursue you.
you may not think your brain is a supervillain. but 1) its called Brain and 2) it lives in a skull fortress
I was thinking about the Grim Reaper recently. They’re not tied to any particular religion, they just personify death and collect the soul and take them…where? What if they’re like afterlife HR?
“So hey! You’re right on time! Okay, your chart says ‘Hellenic.’ Got your coin for the ferryman? No?! Alright, here’s the deal: sign here, River Styx is down the next hall on the left, but you can’t cross for another hundred years. Hey, I don’t make the rules! What do you think a last will and testament’s for, Felix?!”
“Gina! Almost had you there in ’93 with that heart attack, eh? Eh? Anyway, Catholic, right? Hang a left, St. Peter’s waiting behind the gates, he’ll give you your assignment.”
“Hey boss, this one didn’t believe in afterlife or having a soul– I’m headed to my next appointment.”
“Sanjay! Nice long life you had there, buddy. So you remember where the Great Revolving Door of Reincarnation is– oh wait! You qualify for nirvana! Look at you!”
“So Sam, you’re…agnostic. Come to my office, we’ll discuss your options.”
Here upon this dead-end query, while you googled weak and weary,
Over many a faint and spurious result of quality poor;
While you nodded, nearly drowsing, suddenly you came here browsing,
As you pressed on calmly drowsing, browsing to this webserver;
“At last, I found it,” you muttered, “surely what I’m searching for!”
Quoth the server, “404.”
— 404 message from unnamed webserver, via DeVries