Think the unthinkable


What horror emerged, dear reader, I cannot even begin to describe. Its eyes were unspeakably dark, blacker than the very apogee of blackness, a depth of darkness beyond human imagination. Its teeth were unknowably sharp and indescribably huge, at least as large as giant machetes and twice as sharp. The roar that came from its unimaginably cavernous mouth was loud beyond comprehension, possessing a quality of sheer volume that cannot be adequately expressed in mere words, like the roar of ten jet engines at close proximity. My fear – O, all-consuming fear! – was beyond anything I have ever experienced, beyond anything I could possibly describe, beyond the limits of language and thought, inexpressible in its magnitude and effect, too powerful to even conceive of or begin to document using the paltry tools of language; that is to say, I pooped my pants.

7 comments:

  1. Did you have some strong cheese before going to bed last night, Joel?

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  2. Lovecraft somehow managed to get away with that.

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  3. Ha. Poop in pants. Classic.

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  4. Yeah. Not my most highbrow punchline – it's been a busy weekend.

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  5. it looks like this time they did send a poet.
    genius.

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