Call No. 1
SOLICITOR: Hello, Mr. Cthulhu?
SOLICITOR: Do you have good car insurance?
CTHULHU: I am an Elder God of the Damned. I don’t need that simplistic mode of transportation.
SOLICITOR: Well, I understand that you, as an elderly person, must pay a high premium.
CTHULHU: Cthulhu does not pay for anything.
SOLICITOR: I am sure that living on a fixed income can make affording good car insurance a difficulty. What if I told you that I could save you a minimum of 25 percent on your yearly premium?
CTHULHU: I hate human scum like you. You know, I could transport myself through this phone line and reveal myself in all of my horrible grandeur—causing you to live in a world of constant nightmares. You would pray for a swift death at my hands.
SOLICITOR: OK, OK. What about life insurance?
CTHULHU: … No thanks. (Hangs up.) Arrgh!
Call No. 2
PIZZA DELIVERY SERVICE: Hello, Salvatore’s Pizza Palace. How can I help you?
CTHULHU: I would like a Meat Lover’s Pizza, delivered to 235 Main St., Arkham.
PIZZA DELIVERY SERVICE: I’m sorry. We don’t deliver to Arkham.
CTHULHU: R’lyeh! I am one of the Great Old Ones. I am from the ancient primordial depths, and the sheer sight of me would strike such fear that you would find yourself in a nightmarish psychotic stupor for the rest of your life.
PIZZA DELIVERY SERVICE: Oh, yeah, buddy? How about my brother Vic going over there and breaking each of your fingers one by one while your family watches? See if that doesn’t strike fear in you.
CTHULHU: Arrgh! … Do I get a discount if I pick it up?
Call No. 3
YOUNG MALE VOICE: Hello, is Spaghetti Face there? (Laughter in background.)
CTHULHU: How dare you disparage the mighty visage of Cthulhu! I have lived ages beyond the time of men. My horrible beauty is one to be worshipped … Besides, they’re feelers, not spaghetti—
YOUNG MALE VOICE: Hey, would you like an omelet to go with your pasta?
CTHULHU: Grrr! You stupid Callahan kids—you’re the ones who egged my house last Halloween, aren’t you? I ought to kill you—
YOUNG MALE VOICE: You and what army?
CTHULHU: I don’t need an army. One look at me and—
YOUNG MALE VOICE: And everyone runs away, you’re so ugly, Spaghetti Face …
(CTHULHU hangs up. CTHULHU sighs deeply.)
Call No. 4
PHONE COMPANY: Hello, you have reached the Arkham Phone Company. Our goal is to make your phone service the best. If you have a question about your service, press 1. If you wish to change or cancel your service, press 2.
(CTHULHU presses 2.)
PHONE COMPANY: If you wish to change your service, press 1. If you wish to cancel your service, press 2.
(CTHULHU presses 2.)
PHONE COMPANY: Please stay on the line while we connect you to an operator.
PHONE COMPANY: Hello, you have reached the Arkham Phone Company. Our goal is to make your phone service the best …
(CTHULHU hangs up. CTHULHU quietly weeps.)
Call No. 136 (One Month Later)
SOLICITOR: Do you currently have a subscription to TV Guide?
CTHULHU: I’ll take it!
SOLICITOR: Uh, all right. But don’t you even want to hear about our subscription rates?
CTHULHU: I am ready to do your bidding. I will pay whatever you request. Whatever the Phone-Master wants … just don’t hurt me.
SOLICITOR: OK. Well, our current rate is $50 a year. Do I have your permission to bill you and start your subscription?
CTHULHU: Yes, sir.
SOLICITOR: Thank you.
(CTHULHU hangs up. CTHULHU sits and stares at the small black phone, awaiting its next instructions.)