"Not To Force the Rhymes"

by Benjamin Adams

originally published Singers of Strange Songs, Chaosium, 1997

Poor Davey Bremner.  He's got a crappy job working at Oakdeene Sanatorium, a snake pit full of loonies.  Plus it's 1976, and his damn neighbor keeps cranking Abba (Davey's tastes run to the Sex Pistols, Stranglers, Eater and The Damned - that makes him cool, right?).  And his boss is an asshole and he's stuck with this jerkoff buddy who calls himself (or is called?) Potato-Man, and Irish drunk and rowdy who Davey clings to in his further attempts to make himself cool.

One day, Davey's asshole boss Dr. Jones summons him.  It seems that a catatonic patient, Baker, has suddenly come to.  And he's talking.  About strange dreams and such.  Jones demands Davey's assurance that he will not speak of Baker's sudden revivification to anyone.  So naturally, Davey and Potato-Man go out and have a few pints and Davey spills his guts.  P-Man suggests that Davey, rather than quit, should figure out what it is that Jones doesn't want getting out, and use it against him.

Back at Oakdeene, Davey goes poking around in Jones' office, and discovers that, decades ago, Jones deliberately gave patient Martin Spellman an overdose of psychoactive drugs in order to render him permanently catatonic.  Blackmail material!

That night back at the pub, Potato-Man gets on the wrong side of some teddy boys and gets badly beaten up.  Now he's in big trouble.  Davey decides to help him get out of Scotland and wash his hands of him.  But first, back to Oakdeene to pick up some medical supplies.

Oops!  Caught by Dr. Jones.  Having little choice, Davey tells him what he knows.  This causes Jones to tell what he knows:  Baker is Jack the Ripper - yes, that Jack the Ripper.  It seems he's the gestalt of all human evil, a being that comes into existence every few millenia (yes, there's a gestalt of all human good, too).  Having Said Too Much, Jones attacks Davey with a scalpel, wounding him.  But Potato-Man leaps in and kills Jones.  Then some black thing leaps out of Baker's body and into Potato-Man's mouth before Davey passes out.

Twenty years later.  Davey is now the head of Oakdeene.  He's given up on punk rock (one assumes he's now an Abba fan?) He's made the place more humane.  But he wonders what that "gestalt of evil" is up to .... all those serial killers over the years.

This is a minor, pulpy tale, brought down by Adams' mistake of phoneticizing Davey and Potato-Man's accents all through the story - Davey's spoken dialog is littered with "ye" and "hae" and all such.  Bad move, Ben.  It looks amateurish.  I don't see the point in name-dropping British punk bands unless its for the author to let everyone know he has cool taste in music.

"The Reliable Vacuum Company"

by James Robert Smith

originally published Singers of Strange Songs, Chaosium, 1997

Jimmy and Maye Welk are a couple of rednecks who live in their double-wide on four acres in North Carolina.  One day they get a call from a vacuum cleaner salesman, and, since gettin' a new vacuum seems like a good idea, they asks him to come on down.  So's they gets a visit from Mr. Jeng ("from Leng") who seems like a nice enuff sort even tho he is oriental and all.  Before having him show `em his vacuum, they have a few drinks of Jim's homebrew'd likker.  Mr. Jeng passes out.  So's Jimmy opens up the box and takes out this weird machine with no plug - just a cylinder with a wheel on one end and a dick-like hose on t'other.  And some instructions they can't make hide ner hair outta `cept there's somethin' about "Ithaqua" - ain't that in New York? They turns it on and the next thing you knows, they's suckin' up the furniture and the curtains an' all.  Well, finally they manages to shet the durn thing down (meanwhile, there's a big storm brewin' outsides) an' call the company to come git there weirdass vacuum cleaner an' they don' know what happened to Mr. Jeng `cept it appears like he got sucked in, too!  So's some more orientals comes down from the company an' they take away the vacuum an' somethin' red an' frozen they find up in some power lines an' it seems they's trees all rooted up and lines all torn down an' Jimmy realizes he's standin' in some giant footprints is what he is!  So's he an' Maye decide to just stick to brooms and dustpans from nows on.

Christ, I knew when I saw the title this was gonna be a stupid story and it managed to be even dumber than I expected!

"Shudder Wyrm"

by Stephen Mark Rainey
originally published Singers of Strange Songs, Chaosium, 1997

Alec Lang is the big cheese of a high-priced architectural firm, and he's hired by Dr. Willard Vickers to design and building a student housing facility at tiny Beckham College.  Alec thinks this is a little strange, since he charges big-ass prices for such things, but so be it.  Even if he thinks Doc Vickers' designs (including a very deep moat and a lot of five-pointed stars - dah DAH!!) are weird.

But it's not long after the digging has started that Alec finds a neighbor kid poking at something he calls a "direful wirrum" - cuz, yeah, American kids talk like that all the time.  The "direful wirrum" is sorta like a Cthonian, but it has lots of legs, and mandibles.  And eyes!  It definitely has the Cthonian telepathic ability.  The neighbor kid hears the words "shudder meal" being screamed in his head.  Alec captures the worm and takes it to Beckham college.  Soon after, he catches another of the little fuckers in his office.

Meanwhile down at the college, hot prof Alicia Sykes spills her whole guts to Alec about Cthonians, the fact that her institute is dedicated to fighting the Cthulhu baddies, etc.  And she shows him the worm he captured, which is now very much bigger and all kindsa pissed off.

Eventually it tries to break free, and a free-for-all results in (a) hot Prof. Sykes being killed along with several others (b) the cthonian get watered to death, along with several other such baddies that are making their way up and (c) Alec making some upgrades to his house, including a five-pointed start terrace and a deep moat.

This is a well-written and entertaining tale but nothing special.  Like many of the stories I've come across in themed Cthulhu collections, I find myself thinking its merely a rehash of ideas that were better executed elsewhere.  On the big debit side, I've always found the concept of organizations devoted to battling the minions of Cthu a bad idea.  But what really aggravates me about this one is the author's pointless reimagining of the Cthonians.  It's obvious he's familiar with these beasties, and thus it can be assumed he's read Lumley's treatment of them or, failing that, at least the entry in the Call of Cthulhu rules, which makes his complete alteration of them even more baffling.  This isn't just nerdly demand for consistency/canon/continuity on my part (that's not to say it isn't, only that it isn't just) - the Cthonians are far and away the most interesting and best-realized alien race in the Mythosa that weren't invented by HPL, and they were quite unsettling in their appearance.  The addition of beaks, eyes and legs makes them visually silly, more than it does creepy - but presumably the author would not agree.  Anyway, he shoulda left well enough alone. PS - yes, hot Prof. Sykes does at some point make a vague statement that these are only "one variety" of Cthonian, but fails to elucidate in any meaningful way, so I'm not letting this subject off the hook on that one.

Also, no kid anywhere in the United States ever described anything as a "direful wirrum", no matter how weird or nerdy he was! Not even me!

"The Temple of Yig"

by Donald R. Burleson
originally published Singers of Strange Songs, Chaosium, 1997

Carlos and his cousin Paco are having a bored night in their little New Mexico burg, and decided to go see a carnival that's recently set up in town.  Seems there's some weird rumors about this carnival - among them that it originated in Britain but the entire troupe was forced to leave the country.  Now they're going around the US of A, leaving behind a trail of sinister rumors.

The carnival appears to be not too much different from any other, except for an attraction called The Tomb of the Old Ones and, therein, something called The Temple of Yig.  Carlos goes in to check it out. 

Inside he find statuary of the expected type.  The barker talks of the Old Ones in the usual spiel, and of Yig, the oldest of all.  He calls up a shadowy figure who glares out at the audience.  As it doe so, the figure sends telepathic information to (some?)(all?)(just Carlos?) about the whole Cthulhu mess, ancient mysteries, alien races, blah blah blah.

Carlos, a changed man, leaves and goes out alone into the desert and stares into the night.  Snakes gather around him.

This tale is evocative, though somewhat minor.  The mysterious figure in the carnival tent actually has some punch to it.

"In His Daughter's Darkling Womb"

by Tina L. Jens
originally published Singers of Strange Songs, Chaosium, 1997

Dr. Katherine Collum, head of an expedition financed by Arkham Industries, has captured a gigantic (50+ feet) ocotpoid critter.  Held in a tank on an enormous tanker, she and her team study the beastie, which they humorously name Cthylla.

Dr. Collum isn't particularly well-liked, mainly cause she's a humorless, workaholic, unfriendly bitch (to be fair, she's a widow and has had a bunch of miscarriages).  But she is friendly with fellow researcher Helen.  And tolerates David Gaughan, representative of a marine animal rights organization, authorized by Arkham Industries to ensure no one mistreats Cthylla.  He's also prone to reading the Cthaat Aquadingen (dah-dah-dah-DAH!!).  

Cthylla turns out to have some surprising abilities - she's seemingly very intelligent, has variable number of tentacles at any given time, and is voraciously hungry - 100 pounds of fish and crustaceans a day - but the bitch still up and eats the ship's cat!  She also tends to shriek during the night.

The teams concocts a bizarre way to impregnate her, involving a giant squid-monster robot, and soon, she's makin' eggs.  Meanwhile, Katherine is getting weirder and more depressed.  She even ends up banging David.  And soon, she's got a bun in the oven, too!  For bad news, Cthylla up and eats Helen!

Kat isn't too worked up about this, being as she's never been able to carry a child to term before.  Cthylla hatches one surviving egg.  They name the offspring Cthyni.  It too seems way too intelligent.  Kat starts having weird dreams about giving birth to a half-squid-half-human infant. 

Something weird happens to Cthyni and something weird happens to Katherine.  She's taken off the ship and confined to bedrest.  She gives birth.  During the process she hallucinates giving birth to a squid-thing.  But later, she is presented with a normal, healthy child.

This is a well-written and professional tale, but ... hang on ... what exactly is going on here?  It's clear that Cthylla is no ordinary cephalopod, and that there's some link to Cthulhu-ism, that David may, in fact, be some kind of cultist, and that there's some parallel between Cthylla's pregnancy and Katherine's - but what?  Did she, in fact, give birth to a squid-thing?  And if so, to what end?  Was it then squirelled away and a normal kid substituted?  From where? And again, why?  Maybe I'm dumb but I don't get it!

"Spaghetti"

by Brian Lumley

originally published Weirdbook, 21 Autumn, 1985

Our narrator has struck up a friendship, of sorts, with one Andrew Carter.  He doesn't entirely trust Carter (seems shady), and Carter seems to be scared of an old house that he's in the process of inheriting.

It seems that seven years ago, Andrew came to visit his old Uncle Arthur, a "queer old stick" who lived in a musty house full of old books and oddities.  It seems, too, he was alleged to have a fortune in gold stashed away in his place somewhere.  Oh, and he ate spaghetti all the time.

Anyway, Uncle up and disappeared seven years ago.  But Carter's been searching the house for the gold ever since.  He also has some obstacles, cause the house doesn't legally become his for two more weeks.  AND it's going to be demolished to make room for new construction.  He wants our narrator to help him tear the place up in search of gold, in exchange for which, he'll give him a cut.

Oh, and he still keeps finding strands of spaghetti around the place.  

So they go about tearing up the place, without a lot of luck.  The narrator does find a medallion with an octopoid figure on it, and a copy of the Dohl Chants, and tries figuring some of it out.  Particularly the part that appears to be a spell he thinks will help him locate the gold (which he intends to cheat Carter out of, natch). 

PS he too keeps finding strands of spaghetti around the house.

Long story short - narrator tries the spell with interesting results.  Unc's body turns up in a cisten in the attic, where Carter presumably dumped him. The strands of spaghetti were strips of his undead flesh (gross!!)  Unc comes back to life, EC-style. Narrator runs for it.

Ah, the Lum is at it again.  This little bon-bon is nothing special, but Lum's at his best when he's going for the gross and his tongue is planted in his cheek.  There's plenty of atmosphere and, while the "spaghetti" bit makes zero sense, there's a nice M.R. James-meets-EC comics feel to the conclusion.  It's light years beyond his early Mythos embarassments.

"A Forty Share in Innsmouth"

by C.J. Henderson

originally published Singers of Strange Songs, Chaosium, 1997

Marvin Richards is the host of a reality type show that investigates paranormal phenomena.  Tonight he's broadcasting from Fenway Park, a 40,000 seat baseball park in Boston, in a show about the sudden disappearance of three men in London in the 1960's, all three of whom were up to some nefarious occult doings - specifically summoning the entity Bugg-Shash.  Now they will try to re-create the dark ritual, right here on live television, and see what happens.

What happens is the ritual comes off all too well, and soon Bugg-Sassh is floating above Fenway, a big dark cloud of cosmic gloopiness.  People freak out.

Unfortunately for poor Bugg, the combined consciousness not only of the folks in Fenway but also millions upon millions of viewers worldwide (this is an uncommonly popular paranormal show!) is too much for him, and he freaks out and flees.  But, as any player of Call of Cthulhu knows, the effects of Bugg linger long after he has bugged out.

An entertaining little trifle with some good characterization.  Still, the idea that a paranormal reality show could be one of the most popular shows on TV stretches credulity almost as much as the idea of conjuring a giant cosmic glooperoo in the skies over Fenway Park. Almost.

"The Nullity of Choice"

by John Tynes

originally published Singers of Strange Songs, Chaosium, 1997

A serial-killer thinks he's Yibb-Tstll.  Or aspires to be.  Or is under the influence of.  Anyway, he kills a bunch of people quite horribly while being pursued by a CID detective who's very smart and sardonic but has dumb assistants.

I'm always wary when a character in a story refers to his gun not as his "gun" or "rifle" or "pistol" but by it's make and model.  This inevitably leads to a painstaking description of what a wound from this weapon will make in you i.e. a hole bigger than he Mariana Trench or some such.  And Tynes commits this sin right in the third paragraph!

Fortunately, this tale turns out not to be a bit of right-wing gun nuttery (whew!) but instead a sort of Thomas Harris-like serial killer short with some humor injected via the police inspector.  But it's little more than vignette and not that memorable unless you enjoy the gore-wallowing.

"Bad Soil"

by Don D'Ammassa
originally published Singers of Strange Songs, Chaosium, 1997

Bob, our narrator (stop the presses!  The narrator has a name!) is an author and retired civil engineer, with a fairly typical teenage niece he apparently dotes upon - or at least pays more attention to than her parents do.  

Things start to get strange in their little town.  Balls don't bounce on a particular spot on the tennis court.  A dog dies in its backyard house and decomposes in a single night.  Plants and orchards are suddenly sick and ruined.  A kid disappears in a tiny patch of woods.  

Bob's niece Rianne thinks there's something going on.  Bob dismisses it all as coincidence (maybe I've read too many of these things, but since Rianne has rattled off something like a haf-dozen incidents plus he's witnessed a couple himself, Bob seems a little dense).  But, he does see eerie parallels with incidents that happened in Dunwich and Managansett (cue ominous music).

Bob learns that Rianne has enterprisingly researched the incidents and even pinpointed their epicenter on a map in her bedroom.  When he learns that she and a friend have gone to said epicenter to investigate - said epicenter being a local dam - he rushes off the find them.  There he finds the bodies of two missing kids, and Rianne's friend in the process of being sucked of life by a mass of tentacles springing from the ground.  He and Rianne flee as he floods the dam.  Due to his political connections, Bob is never charged.  

This certainly isn't a bad story, and it sets itself up nicely, but it doesn't really go anywhere.  And I find the image of Rianne, whom Bob describes as a typical 14 year-old girl, becoming an intrepid investigator of Cthulhoid activity way too much of a stretch.  This probably could have worked in D'ammassa had fleshed her out as a girl of exception intellect or maturity, but he doesn't.  She's just a typical young teenage girl who suddenly starts acting like Dana Sculley.  

Well-written, and entertaining enough read, but nothing special.