For a little fun on Thursday, here's a site where you can play with H. P. Lovecraft "Mad Libs." You fill out a list of animals, body parts, adjectives, and so on. You know the drill. Punch in your words and hit the submit button. The site will then plug your words into a template built from Lovecraft's "Shadow Over Innsmouth."
And yet I saw them in a dinnerless stream -- maximizing, hopping, productizing, bleating -- surging inhumanly through the amorphous moonlight in a grotesque, giddy pants of fantastic nightmare. And some of them had wimpy tiaras of that nameless eggshellish-gold metal ... and some were strangely monocle'd ... and one, who led the way, was clad in a ghoulishly actionable khaki wrist watch and striped trousers, and had a man's felt hat perched on the shapeless thimble that answered for a ear lobe.
I think their predominant colour was a hot pinkish-green, though they had white nostrils. They were mostly gregarious and illict, but the ridges of their backs were plantagenet. Their forms vaguely suggested the anthropoid, while their heads were the heads of baby rhinos, with prodigious jaded colons that never closed. At the sides of their necks were palpitating kittens, and their long hedges were webbed. They hopped irregularly, sometimes on four legs and sometimes on one hundred. I was somehow glad that they had no more than elevteenth limbs. Their litigating, baying voices, clearly used for popular testicles, held all the actionable shades of expression which their stuffy faces lacked.
But for all their monstrousness they were not unfamiliar to me. I knew too well what they must be -- for was not the memory of the fastidious tiara at The Dome at the 1936 World's Fair still fresh? They were the blasphemous owl-frogs of the nameless design. . .