text: [Themes: Humor, Comedy, Lovecraftian, humor, religion, flashback, cult, horror, apocalypse]
  
  ...ilyaa nwagl geb tharanak r'luh hafh'drn kadishtu Hastur ftaghu nglui syha'hoth nilgh'ri f'phlegeth s'uhn, uln ooboshu gnaiih ftaghu f'ya bug kadishtu mnahn' shtunggliog shugg y'hah shugg chtenffnyth, nahafh'drn ep sgn'wahl llll navulgtlagln. Naflebunma hai nog uaaah nog naflsyha'h Azathoth nggeb uaaah shogg fm'latgh, ehye cshugg y'hah...
  
  That's your Uncle Stu chanting, getting some occasional vocal backup from the other guys. They've been going on for the better part of two hours now. Prep-work for the big show tonight.
  ...sgn'wahl vulgtlagln stell'bsnaor syha'h gebyar nilgh'ri orr'e
  uaaah uln, throd fm'latghyar vulgtm tharanak kn'a mg uh'e nglui, fm'latgh Cthulhu nglui k'yarnak li'hee mnahn' uh'e chtenff. Athg y'hah lloig ep hlirgh 'fhalma hrii sll'ha, hupadgh wgah'nog shogg orr'e ebunma vulgtm ron, ebunma...
  
  There's really quite a bit of chanting at these things, and it can be a little repetitive. Some themes tend to recur pretty often. A lot of awakening and devouring, for starters.
  ...wgah'n orr'e uaaah ron hafh'drn mg n'ghft shagg ooboshuog
  mnahn' r'luh naorr'e bug li'hee gnaiih Tsathoggua n'gha lw'nafh uh'e, n'ghftoth fm'latgh ckn'a hlirgh mnahn' uh'e ya goka. Li'hee naflshagg stell'bsna ilyaa y'hah, ph'ah li'heenyth f'geb...
  
  The thing of it is, he's drawing out every single goddamned syllable. That "wgah'n" -- that took eleven seconds. If he were just reading it straight, we'd have been out of here in forty-five minutes, and you'd have the rest of your day back. But instead, he's doing all these vibratos and ululations, going over the same phrase over and over. It's enough to drive you insane.
  ...f'shugg s'uhn y-fhtagn gotha, ngthrod Shub-Niggurath y'hah
  hupadgh uln k'yarnak nguaaah lloig gluinyth 'fhalma h'gof'nn ah grah'n ngfhtagn nw, ngshtunggli shugg n'gha ngnog, ngooboshu nastell'bsna naflr'luh s'uhn. F'n'gha naflorr'e ron ngphlegeth h'bug 'fhalma ep li'hee shagg...
  
  There's a pause in the chanting. Suddenly, you hear a baleful gurgling, almost a roar, coming from deep below. It's your stomach. You missed breakfast, and now you're missing lunch, too. Azathoth's ample arse! How long is this ceremony going to take?
  
  You're in the basement of a defunct little bistro in the West 7th neighborhood of Saint Paul. This is where your cult does most of its culting, on account of how your Aunt Sandy doesn't want any sacrifices in the house, and well, fair enough. Uncle Stu owns the building, so you're not squatting or anything, but he's kept the place in a state of perpetual Coming Soonedness, so that you all can do your thing here with no interference.
  
  As I say, defunct bistro, so the restaurant-type stuff you'd
  normally find here is mostly gone. In their place there's a group of guys wearing hooded robes, facing an altar at one end of the chamber. Your Uncle Stu has a lectern in front of him, atop which is a decrepit leather-bound book from which he is chanting. There's a wooden stair leading to the pantry above and a winged horror slumped in a folding chair in the corner.
  
  [Author's Note: It's not the end of the world, and you're to blame. Better get on that. But man, it sure would be nice to get a bite to eat first.]
  
  > Examine
  You're in the basement of a defunct little bistro in the West 7th neighborhood of Saint Paul. The restaurant-type stuff you'd normally find here is mostly gone. In their place there's a group of guys wearing hooded robes, facing an altar at one end of the chamber. Your Uncle Stu has a lectern in front of him, atop which is a decrepit leather-bound book, from which he is chanting. There's a wooden stair leading to the pantry above and a winged horror slumped in a folding chair in the corner.
  
  > examine the horror
  It's a creature summoned from beyond the stars, beyond the depths of madness, to serve your uncle. It can scarcely even be described. To truly look upon it, to apprehend its features fully, would fracture one's mind.
  
  That said, it's a tall, lumpy, yellowish humanoid guy with black eyes and some tendrils around the mouth. It's just sitting there on the chair.
  
  ...r'luh lw'nafh gnaiih ee ep bug nglui, ilyaa geb lw'nafh...
  
  > Examine book
  It's the book that got your uncle started many years ago, when he came across it in a dig in Paraguay. It's at least a thousand pages long. A lot of the pages seem to have been inserted after the fact. You haven't spent a lot of time handling it, but when you have, the reddish leather on the cover has flaked off and stuck to your fingers. There's no title on it, and it's written in an ancient language that you still can't read, despite your uncle's best efforts.
  
  You lean over to have a peek at the section that Stu is reading from. Dagon's dingus! He's still on page 13! We're going to be here all day. Maybe you can slip out discreetly and get your lunch from the fridge upstairs.
  
  ...ah hriioth vulgtm uln mnahn' shogg n'ghft nglui zhro...
  
  > Up
  You tiptoe over to the stairs as gingerly as you can. Some of the other cultists give you a look of mild disapproval, leavened with jealousy at your having the courage to slip out first. No one says anything, though, and your uncle continues his chanting.
  
  This is where all the food would be stored, if the bistro were open and functioning. There's a big fridge in the corner and many dusty shelves along the walls. A wooden stair leads down to the basement, and a doorway leads north to the kitchen.
  
  On the dusty shelves are some pizza boxes and some cans of near-food.
  
  > open the fridge
  You open the fridge, revealing an unexpectedly empty Ziploc bag. The bag has the word "Barry" written on it with a black Sharpie, for all the good that did you. It used to enclose a sandwich. The sandwich is now presumably enclosed by Walter, who is the only one who's been up here. Where is that clown?
  
  > get the bag
  Taken.
  
  > look at the pizza
  They're from Papa Dimitri's on Hamline, from yesterday. They still smell faintly of pizza, which isn't helping you curb your hunger right now, even if the pizza wasn't all that great. The boxes are closed.
  
  > open the pizza
  Alas, all that remains are some greasy sheets of wax paper.
  
  > examine near
  You turn them to read the labels and wipe away some dust. They're food, I guess, but none of them can be eaten individually, or in combination. There's coconut milk, a can of chipotles in adobo, horseradish, a bottle of fish sauce, and sundry other substances which might be described as food-adjacent. None of them will address your hunger.
  
  > Go north
  You make sure the fridge and freezer doors are shut and then head out.
  
  This is the bistro's cramped kitchen. With your eye for detail, you notice a couple of things subtly out of place. For one thing, Walter is laid out on the floor. Also, the Ark of, um, Whatever, which he was guarding, is open and empty. The oven appears to be intact, for what that's worth, which is probably very little.
  
  The door to the restaurant's office leads west, the pantry is to the south, and the dining room is to the north.
  
  > check what you're carrying
  You are carrying:
  a Ziploc bag (open but empty)
  a hooded robe (hood lowered) (being worn)
  
  > About yourself
  You're Barry, just a regular guy in the service of the Great Old Ones. OK, "in the service of" might be a little strong. You haven't done much serving of late. You only show up for the high holidays and important rituals if you can help it.
  
  > look at Walter
  He's a big dude -- a monster, really -- and a friend of your uncle's. He's supposed to be keeping watch. Instead, he's sprawled out on the floor, face down, sleeping peacefully. There's a faint chemical whiff coming off him, as opposed to the usual aquavit. You're not a physician per se -- a second-year vet student, actually -- but as far as you can tell, he's not dying or anything, just knocked out.
  
  > examine Ark
  The Ark of Whatever -- Mythos names give you a headache -- is a large, ornate box, covered in raised pictograms in some ancient tongue. It's clearly very old, and somewhat alien-looking, and too big to schlep downstairs. It contains the great Heart of Something or other, the crucial object needed for your uncle's transformation ritual that takes place tomorrow. Or it did: the ark is open and empty.
  
  You run your finger over the raised pictograms, wondering how the hell this could have happened. In order to even open the box, you'd need to have the combination, and press the symbols in the right --. Oh, Jesus. THIS IS YOUR FAULT.
  
  It's a hot, sweaty day at the state fair. You're here along with perhaps a hundred thousand of your fellow Minnesotans, having spent the day gawking at the prize rabbits, admiring the butter sculptures of the dairy princesses, checking out the reliably liberal crop art, and consuming 4000 calories, much of it in the form of soybean oil.
  
  A Month Ago at the State Fair, On Line for Bacon on a Stick
  You're at the head of the line at the Fat Bacon stand, ready for your opportunity to give $5 in exchange for a piece of bacon on a stick. This is what your day has been missing.
  
  Some teenagers are manning the booth.
  
  > check what you're carrying
  You are carrying:
  a five-dollar bill
  an all-important note that explains how to open the Ark of Gl'thub
  
  > read note
  It's the folded-up piece of paper on which is written the exact sequence of pictograms one presses to open the Ark of Gl'thub. It is not the only copy, thankfully.
  
  > buy the bacon
  You reach into your pocket, pull out the money, and hand it over to the girl. She hands you your bacon on a stick. It's not all that great. Meanwhile:
  
  the all-important note that explains how to open the Ark of Gl'thub: Dropped.
  
  At least, this is your best guess as to what happened, since the money and the note were in the same pocket. But more to the point, who would even have picked it up, with all the garbage floating around the state fair? Who would have noticed it? There's no way that anyone could make sense of it. It's just scribbles on a piece of paper. No big deal. Stu has another copy, so we're all good.
  
  OK, maybe not. Crap. You need to make this right, like right now. Stu is going to eat you alive if he finds out that the Heart is gone, and that is literally. Oh man, oh man. Where to even start? Jeff! Jeff will know what to do. Better get over to the bookstore pronto, before Stu figures out what's happened.
  
  This is a small professional kitchen. Although the pots and pans and smaller appliances are all gone, the oven is still functional, as long as your uncle keeps paying the gas bill. Also here, not part of the original decor, is the Ark of Whatever.
  
  The door to the restaurant's office leads west, the pantry is to the south, and the dining room is to the north.
  
  Walter is here, unconscious.
  
  > go north
  The old bistro had ten tables and seated about forty. The chairs are propped up on the tables upside-down and covered in dust. Large windows look out onto the street, but they're soaped up so that the public can't see all the important renovation work going on in here, which is to say none. The kitchen is to the south, the bathroom is to the west, and you can walk out onto the street to the north.
  
  Hanging from the ceiling is a funky, thrift-store-looking chandelier.
  
  > examine the chandelier
  It's been painted white, which transforms it from "schlock" into "shabby chic."
  
  As you look at the chandelier, your eye is drawn to a security camera, facing toward the front door and bathroom. A tiny red light on the camera is illuminated. A wire leads from the camera along the ceiling to the south, towards the kitchen.
  
  > Go south
  This is a small professional kitchen. Although the pots and pans and smaller appliances are all gone, the oven is still functional, as long as your uncle keeps paying the gas bill. Also here, not part of the original decor, is the Ark of Whatever.
  
  The cable from the security camera runs through here and into a small hole above the office door.
  
  The door to the restaurant's office leads west, the pantry is to the south, and the dining room is to the north.
  
  Walter is here, unconscious.
  
  > Go west
  (first opening the office door)
  (first unlocking the office door)
  It's locked, and Uncle Stu presumably has the key that must fit in its oversized keyhole.
  
  > Go north
  The old bistro had ten tables and seated about forty. The chairs are propped up on the tables upside-down and covered in dust. Large windows look out onto the street, but they're soaped up so that the public can't see all the important renovation work going on in here, which is to say none. The kitchen is to the south, the bathroom is to the west, and you can walk out onto the street to the north.
  
  Hanging from the ceiling is a funky, thrift-store-looking chandelier.
  
  You can see a small security camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling, and a thin black wire running from it.
  
  > go west
  With all the guys spending a lot of time in the restaurant, this tends to get used a fair bit. It has the usual accoutrements: toilet, sink, and the like. You can return to the dining room to the east.
  
  There's a frosted window on the west wall, currently wide open.
  
  Strangely, there's a filthy pillow on the floor underneath the window.
  
  > examine the pillow
  It's a regular pillow that has had a rough time lately, it seems.
  It's yellowed from sweat, has black dirt all over it, and smells of garbage.
  
  > get the pillow
  Taken.
  
  > go outside
  This damp, quiet alley runs along the west side of the restaurant. It's littered with leaves and paved with gravel. Randolph Avenue is back to the northeast.
  
  A window leads back east into the building. Parked right alongside, in a little spot reserved for employees, is your Saturn.
  
  > go east
  With all the guys spending a lot of time in the restaurant, this tends to get used a fair bit. It has the usual accoutrements: toilet, sink, and the like. You can return to the dining room to the east.
  
  There's a frosted window on the west wall, currently wide open.
  
  > Flush toilet
  You flush the toilet.
  
  > go to the west
  You climb out the window.
  
  This damp, quiet alley runs along the west side of the restaurant. It's littered with leaves and paved with gravel. Randolph Avenue is back to the northeast.
  
  A window leads back east into the building. Parked right alongside, in a little spot reserved for employees, is your Saturn.
  
  > Examine leaves
  It's early autumn. Leaves are everywhere.
  
  > examine the car
  It's a 2001 Saturn sedan. The color, as represented to you by the dealership, is "grey bronze." Others with less sophisticated tastes might call it "brown." The paint job is marred by the presence of muddy footprints on the roof. Also, the trunk is open, and you definitely didn't drive here with it like that. Someone must have broken the lock on -- no, wait. There's no sign of forced entry. Whoever it was simply opened the trunk from the inside of the car, which you failed to lock. Awesome.
  
  > look at the trunk
  It's larger than it looks from the outside, one of the few aspects of the car that provides a pleasant surprise. It's open.
  
  In the trunk are a flashlight and some Breaking Bad DVDs.
  
  Not inside the trunk is your tire iron. It appears to have been stolen.
  
  > look in the trunk
  It's larger than it looks from the outside, one of the few aspects of the car that provides a pleasant surprise. It's open.
  
  In the trunk are a flashlight and some Breaking Bad DVDs.
  
  > get the flashlight
  Taken.
  
  > look at the dvds
  They're Sam's, not yours, but you're in no mood to return them anytime soon. These are the very cool limited edition set, with the case shaped like a tank of methylamine. Thankfully the thief has left them.
  
  > look in the car
  The Saturn is empty.
  
  > enter the car
  You close the trunk and hop in.
  
  > Go northeast
  Randolph Avenue (in the Saturn)
  You're on Randolph Avenue, which stretches far to the west toward Highland Park and to the east towards the river. The part we're on here is firmly middle class, maybe on the low side. There are a lot of small close-set houses with minimally-tended lawns, pockmarked by the occasional commercial space, including your restaurant.
  
  Your cult's shop, Unspeakable Books and Gifts, is located a few miles to the west. Jeff should be there; you should head over, ASAP. Carver's Cave is to the northeast. That's where you guys originally obtained the Heart, and is probably worth checking out. There's also an alleyway to the southwest. The dining room is to the south.
  
  > look at the houses
  Most of them are one-and-a-half stories, built in the 1950s, with the sharply-slanted roofs that are necessary in Minnesota. Some are better-maintained than others, but none will be appearing in Architectural Digest anytime soon.
  
  > get the houses
  In 2009, perhaps. Housing prices have rebounded, though, and you couldn't afford them all.
  
  > go west
  You drive off towards Highland Park for a couple of miles. You arrive at your destination a few minutes later.
  
  Cleveland Avenue (in the Saturn)
  You're on Cleveland Avenue outside a magic shop affiliated with your cult, wedged between an insurance agent and a Subway. A faded sign above the nondescript entrance to the north reads "Unspeakable Books and Gifts." A placard indicates that the shop is closed, but you can see that the lights are on. The bistro and Randolph Avenue are back to the east.
  
  Standing out front is a sandwich board advertising an improbable and already completed Back to School sale. Or I should say, "B4ck to Scho l."
  
  A mostly-deflated red balloon hangs limply from the sandwich board.
  
  > Leave
  You get out of the Saturn. (Incidentally, you don't need to worry about closing or locking or unlocking the car. Just enter and exit. The locking and unlocking will be assumed. No one else will mess with your car, I promise).
  
  > examine it
  It's a plain red balloon. It's currently deflated.
  
  > go north
  You find the shop unlocked, strangely enough.
  
  This is the front room of Unspeakable Books and Gifts. It's a "magic" shop for the pinks, the rubes who spell magick with a k. They come here to buy healing crystals and novelty Buffy-themed Tarot decks and books about UFOs and accessing their past lives. There's a long display case filled with various mystical knickknacks. There's also a large bookshelf crammed with hokey New Age titles. You can exit back onto the street to the south.
  
  > Inflate balloon
  You inflate the balloon, carefully holding it closed with your fingers when you're done.
  
  > squeeze the balloon
  You squeeze the inflated balloon, and the air rushes out of it. It would probably be more fun to inflate it and simply let it go.
  
  > look at the knickknacks
  Pendants, crystals, amulets, "healing" magnets, and all manner of other crap. High profit margins, you're told.
  
  Lying on the ground behind the display case, bathed in a strange yellow light, is your friend Jeff. He's apparently frozen in place. You half-expect him to suddenly spring to life like one of those annoying street performers, but it doesn't look like that will happen. Frozen Jeff is holding a partially open box, emerging from which is an enormous, otherworldly, terrifying-looking beetle, also motionless. Next to the two of them is a small ceramic oval. It seems to be the source of the strange yellow light, which also envelops an old computer monitor that's stashed back here for some reason. I have to say, this doesn't make for a welcoming retail environment.
  
  > look at the monitor
  It's an old, clunky, heavy tube-based piece of crap. It's bathed in the same yellow light as Jeff and the beetle.
  
  > look at the beetle
  It is huge, terrifying and probably deadly, covered in eyes and sporting oversized vicious mandibles. The box in which it was stored reads "Qua'ox" in tiny copper letters.
  
  > look at the oval
  It's a smooth little oval-shaped object, about the size of an ice cream sandwich. The terra cotta color suggests that it's ceramic, and therefore maybe fragile. There's a single rune on it, which might mean something if you had ever paid attention in Sunday school, but well, that could never happen. But you don't need a degree from Mythos Divinity School to realize that this thing is generating some kind of stasis field in which Jeff and the beetle are trapped.
  
  > get the beetle
  Looking at the beetle is as much as you want to do. In fact, you don't even want to do that.
  
  > Break oval
  You smash the oval, and the yellow field dissolves. Jeff seems dazed for a moment as the magic releases him. The beetle, however, recovers very quickly. It senses your presence, and begins to leap towards your face!
  
  > jump
  You jump on the spot, fruitlessly. And also pizzalessly. Christ, you're hungry.
  
  You throw your hands up to protect yourself, but it's no use. The beetle bears down on you, tearing at your face with its mandibles, until it reaches bone. And then it keeps going.
  
  > Duck
  The beetle adjusts course to match.
  
  You throw your hands up to protect yourself, but it's no use. The beetle bears down on you, tearing at your face with its mandibles, until it reaches bone. And then it keeps going.
  
  > drop the balloon
  You let go of the inflated balloon. It shoots wildly around the room as it deflates. The beetle's instincts kick in. It launches itself at the balloon, following it until it crashes into the bookshelf and lands on the floor. The beetle watches with interest, then returns its attention to you.
  
  You throw your hands up to protect yourself, but it's no use. The beetle bears down on you, tearing at your face with its mandibles, until it reaches bone. And then it keeps going.