Novel Exerpt

“OK,” Gordon said closing his eyes and raising his hand up in protest. “First off, I need YOU to get ME to a little place to the south east of here.”
“Does it have a name.”
“Not one that I can pronounce without having to grow about six more tongues.” Said Gordon.
“Well, what’s close by.”
“Head towards Ponape and then make a b-line south. Trust me, you won’t be able to miss it if it’s back up.”
“Right,” Said Thoth grabbing Gordon by the collar, we’re off.
“Wai…”Gordon trailed off before passing out again.
Gordon awoke five minutes later as the blood was once again drained from his brain.
“You’re right,” said Thoth. “this place is a little hard to miss.”
Gordon stumbled groggily to his feat, he was beginning to think that using an ancient god with a wicked case of ADD was a rather ill thought out plan.
“Oh, and I’ld watch your step.” Thoth said to Gordon as he stumbled about like a fraternity drunk after a wild night with a sority hous trying to regain his bearings.
They stood on a cliff covered in green ooze and peppered with greyish barnicles. Abover them loomed a hediously jagged rock face, which reminded Gordon of an ebony rib cage. Gordon knew that what he needed would, of course, be on the top of those menacing black cliffs. There was a general rule about it in a handbook that he had read ages ago. “When facing off against occultists with a penchant for bringing about the end of the world,” the passage read “you will always find yourself running short of time and having to navigate some odd thing, like a hiddeously menacing cliff, or some trap lined temple, or some sort of monstrous beast called forth to stop you before you can reach them.”
Gordon shook his head still nautious from being throttled by the laws of physics. “Sweet god, if I had anything in my stomach I’d puke it up now.”
“What, puking over half of western america wasn’t enough? Do you have to mark your teritory everywhere you go? I could run back and get some sushi or ramen if you really…”

Gordon angrly slapped his hand over the mouth of the god. “Just…shut…up…and…wait…here…” he spat. “If I need you I’ll…whistle or something.”
Gordon walked to his right, looking for some way to get to the top of the cliff in front of him. After just a few minutes he found a craggedy trail cut into the side of one of the cliffs. “I really should have some help with this” he thought. If they’re even remotly close it’s going to be a very bad time.”
Slowly he ascended the slime covered steps. “To bad nobody ever thought to install an elevator” he thought aloud.
Little did Gordon know that someone DID, in fact install an elevator. It was actually quite marvelous really. Glass walls, brushed aluminum intereior with bronze accents. With three maticilously crafted buttons from ivory which were inscribed with “B” “L” and “1”. Given the relative age of the thing, it was exceptionally well preserved, with hardly an ounce of slime or a barnicle to be found.
This was due to the fact that the english occultists had cleaned it top to bottom before use. Because even though they may be English Occultists bent on bringing about the end of the world at the hands of something just slightly younger then the big bang, there was no reason they should have to schulp about in something hideously covered in slime.
Unfortunatly for Gordon, the elevator was on the other side of the massive island, and he would have to take the stairs.
“Allright,” He thought half way up the cliff face. “this is taking far too long.” He looked up to the top of the cliff, closed his eyes and muttered a quiaint little spell. When he opened them again he found himself at the top of the stairs, and holding a bottle of white zinfindel. Using magic was always a tricky affair, even for a direct descendant of Rasputan. And sometimes, even if you did get the results you wanted, there were some rather odd side effects that went along with a successful casting.
“Huh, I wonder what the zinfindel is for?” He thought, shoving the bottle into his trenchcoat pocket.
“Hey!” Said Thoth, screaching to a hault. “There’s an elevator over this way.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Gordon, his impatience was beginning to show. “I thought I told you to wait where we were.”
“Sorry,” said Thoth “I got bored.” He smiled and looked at Gordon. “What’s the bottle for?”
“I don’t know,” said Gordon “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” Said Gordon, reaching for a cigarette. He flicked his zippo and took a deep drag.
“Hey, over here!” Yelled Thoth, who was now roughly 100 yards from Gordon staring down into what appeared to be a giant crater. “I think I’ve found something.”
“Keep your damned pantys on” cried Gordon, who was briskly walking over to Thoth. If there was one thing he didn’t want to do, it was run while smoking. It was a terrible thing to go through, and even though time was of the essence, there were just certain things that he would not do, no matter what the consequences were.
“Will you get a move on!” Yelled Thoth, excitedly tapping his foot and sending little bits of green slime flying out from underneath.
“What is it?” said Gordon, who had reached the edge of the cliff.
“What do you make of THAT?” Asked Thoth, pointing down into the crater at what appeard to be a rather charming looking Irish Cottege.
“That,” said Gordon, “Is where we need to be.”
“Ahhh,” said Thoth, rather contently. “Well then,” he said grabbing Gordon by the collar, “I guess we had better be going.”

”WAIT!” Screamed Gordon, “Let’s just take the Elevator.”
“But it’s so SLOW” pouted Thoth, who was becming rather bored with the whole state of affairs.
“It may be slow, but at least I won’t wind up blacking out for 2 minutes after you break Mach 7.”
“It’s not MY fault that you’re so fragile.”
“Sorry, guess I just wasn’t built for life in the fastlane.” Said Gordon, clearing his throat. Now come on we’ve…” he trailed off as Thoth sped off to the Elevator.
“What are you waiting for?” Yelled Thoth. “We got places to be.”
Gordon just shrugged and ran towards the elevator.
“Sweet Ra but you are slow,” said Thoth after thirty minutes, and then sprinted off with a dash of speed that would cause a Titan missle to blush to pick up Gordon.
“What are you do…oof,” stammered Gordon as Thoth grabbed him by the waist nearly breaking him in half from the force.
“Just cant bare to wait for you.” Said Thoth who was already circling around to head back to head to the elevator.”
“SEE,” Said Thoth tossing an unconcious Gordon onto the floor of the elevator. “That wasn’t so bad now was it?”
Gordon was awake by the time the elevator dinged and “B” button turned a charming lime green.
“I wish you would stop doing that.” Said Gordon, once again stumbling to his feet.
“Hey, I cant just sit around waiting for you to get your crap together.” Said Thoth waiting for the doors to open.
Two hooed occultists were a bit surprised to find a man in a trench coat and a lycra wearing egyptian god of travel waiting for them. Quite honestly, they were expecting pizza.
“SHIT!” Cried Gordon, grabbing the bottle of Zinfindel and cracking on of the occultists over his head.
Thoth just looked a little surprised.
“Don’t just STAND there,” Yelled Gordon, “Hit him!”
“OH, OK, if you insist.” Thoth extended his fist at supersonic speeds reserved for returning orbital sattilights, completely decapitating the second occultist with a single punch.
Gordon just stood there as the body of the occultists dropped to the ground with a wet thud, stunned silly at what he had just witnessed. “Next time” Gordon said, holding up a finger nervously “Try not to hit quite so hard.”
“Sorry about that.” Said Thoth.
They made their way to the cottage. It was rathe quaint, with a rose garden, and a thatched roof. Emerald Green shutters trimmed the windows, and little flower boxes with herbs seemed to cheerily welcome visitors. Above the door was a wooden mantle with an octupus carved into it.
Gordon looked down at a little grass woven doormat that read “Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!"
“Interesting” Said Thoth “Fh-glue, megel-naff K-tulu R-lich wgaw-negal f-taging? What exactly does that mean.”
“In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu lies dreaming.” Said Gordon lighting another cigarette. “More or less.”
In all actuallity, just about every translation from the tounge of the great old ones into something resembling human language was wrong. This was contributed to the fact that the original translator was in fact quite mad, and tended to try and make things sound far more sinister then they actually were. “Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn” is not actually, “In his house at R’lyeh, dead Cthulhu lies dreaming”, but actually “Welcome to R’lyeh, the home of Cthulu, wont you stay for a cup of tea?”