Nyarlathotep is Staying in My Guest Room

There were portents in the years before he arose that brought fear to those who could read them. A man in Austria fathered seven children, a lucky number, on his daughter. Monstrous waves killed thousands in Thailand and New Orleans. That summer National Grid lost power in many sections of the country and people died in the heat and humidity.

He arose from the forgotten necropolis of Khemi south of Egypt and walked to Cairo airport. The ancient peoples bowed before him calling him Pharaoh and God. At the airport he purchased a one way ticket to the U.S.A. with a credit card and signed up for the frequent flier program. At U.S. customs, he was admitted into the country after displaying a Haitian passport. He listed tourism as his reason for entering the country. Then he took a taxi to the Museum.

New York sweltered under a summer brownout. Blackened subways seemed like entrances to the land of the undead. Was it madness or the call of the Elder Gods that caused me to wander past the museum late at night? The doors were wide open, the security system turned off, and the guards dead and shriveled like mummies within the silent corridors. From the hall of dinosaurs an unholy green glow beckoned me….

So, what is a Great Old One from the Cthulhu mythos doing sleeping in my spare room and raiding my refrigerator? To be fair, he (it?) often brings back pizza and beer when he (it?) goes out for a walk. He could have returned to the alien galaxy from whence the Old Gods came. He could have walked the Earth spreading plague and terror. Instead, he came to take a bite out of the Big Apple and expose himself to pop culture. In the meantime, of course, It was spreading a little death and despair just to keep in practice and let Cthulhu, Yog-Sothoth and Azathoth know he was still on their side.

Nyarlathotep (“Call me Yarlo”) and I first met at the Museum of Natural History, where he was raising up the dinosaurs and encouraging them to roam about the city snacking upon late night revelers. The whole scene reminded me of the movie “Night in the Museum”, except of course no people were really eaten in the movie. I couldn't help but laugh, and asked him if he had seen “Night in the Museum”. He had never even heard of it. Actually, the last movie he had seen was “The Mummy” when it first came out in the previous millennium. We both had a crush on Patricia Velasquez, who plays the Pharaoh's cheating girl friend in the movie.

When he told me that he had no place to stay in town and was leaving for Las Vegas in a few days, I invited him to stay at my place and watch a video of “The Mummy Returns”. He flew us both to Las Vegas then came back to my place. I gathered he was killing time until the stars were right for the Great Old Ones to rise again and end the world. He had been waiting two billion years, give or take a decade. Imagine renting a condo at city prices for two billion years. Go back to Khemi and lurk in a tomb -- its cheaper.

The great thing about pop culture is that it changes constantly. An evil elder god can pick up a magazine and learn something new every month. Believe you me it is hard finding something new every month for two billion years. Even channel surfing on the television get old fast. Pop culture though is just what an immortal needs. One year, you are right up there with Paris Hilton and America's Next Top Model. The next year you are in the dumpster with Funniest Home Videos and Spiro Agnew watches.

Nyarlathotep had recently been made the star of his own movie. Big Deal! The picture was made by some outlaw production company and most of us never even heard of it. There is only one true test of when a monster has finally arrived I told him. No super hero or super villain can say he or she has mainstreamed unless he or she has its own action figure.

My guest finally departed as mysteriously as he arrived. He seems to have walked off with my VCR and some of my videos: “Dodge Ball,” “The Spice Girls Movie,” and my favorite, “Electra”. “Abbott and Costello meet the Mummy” is also missing, but I think the maid taped over it by mistake. Time to move on to DVD or Blu-ray in any case.

I have hired a clipping service to save me stories of premature aging and deaths from all over the world. Someone or something walked into a bank in California, mummified the staff and customers and took almost $25,000. Then there was the horror at the Rockefeller Center Christmas show. The figures at the wax museum in London came alive and devoured some patrons. When the police finally broke in, the wax effigy of Hannah Montana was missing! I blame myself for that tragedy. I was the one who introduced Yarlo to music videos.

Nyarlathotep will return when the stars align, if for no other reason than to pick up his mail and the shredder he ordered.

The End.

Author's note: I highly recommend “Nyarlathotep” by H. P. Lovecraft.! It is much better and a hell of a lot scarier than my little story.