Toad rental -- cheap! By Pnarp in Pnarp's Diary Mon Mar 19, 2012 at 08:58:53 PM EST Tags: toads, Richard Uptown Pluckman, shuggoths, ducks, rubber duckies, mubbleducks, Lillian Gish, Vilma Banky, feet (all tags)
	In 1922, Richard Uptown Pluckman rented some toads... and met his end at the hands of a rubber mubbleducky. Richard Uptown Pluckman hurried down a Boston sidewalk, a bag of recently-rented toads under his arm and a fearful expression on his face that verged on mindless panic. Every few steps he looked back over his shoulder (the left one) as if fleeing from some unseen pursuer. He had barely made it out of there alive. The sun was low in the sky, nearly at the horizon, and blood red. Pluckman shuddered as the thought of blood flashed across his sodium-ion channels. After the attack, there had been so much blood. Everywhere. It had taken him hours to clean up, even using that new Kirby he had bought from a door-to-door quailsman. Days later the smell had still permeated his entire fourth-floor study. And now the unnamed Things that had attacked him had found him again, and Pluckman knew that there would be another assault soon. He didn't know when, or where, or how, or why, or anything else that might be useful to stop the blasphemous Things. Come to think of it, Pluckman thought, he didn't know much at all. The near-death and 2¼ days of polymyocatatonia that he had suffered when the Things had first escaped had so affected his poor, addlepated mind that he had even forgotten his seven times table

But the blood had been green, he remembered discordantly. Iridescent green. So why did the blood-red sun remind him of the blood of the Things? He didn't know. Maybe the Things were affecting his mind: Reaching out to taunt him, reaching out from their gorgothine realms beyond the ordered, organized reality in which Pluckman dwelt. As a professor of exozöoontology at the state university, he knew that the Things were capable of such feats of blasphemous rubberduckery, but he prayed to all the gods, goddesses, and gourds that he believed in that he was out of reach of their tentacly grasp. More... And yes, that's right, kiddies and biddies... your crazy ol' uncle Pnårp is back!

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Where was Pnårp, really? Dead 0% Not really dead 0% Not quite dead 100% Mostly dead 0% Lost in an unlit room 100% Stuck in a rolled-up carpet 0% Trapped under a duck's butt 0% In jail 0% In an insane asylum 100% In a sane asylum 0% Anywhere but the Brundlesphere 0% Hiding from Langoliers 0% Hiding from Harooloos 0% Cleaning endless viruses, trojans, and worms off of his website 100% In France 100% Votes: 1 Results | Other Polls

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In 1922, Richard Uptown Pluckman rented some toads... and met his end at the hands of a rubber mubbleducky. More... Pnarp's Diary