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With combined forces the Cthulhus together dictates their story to the slightly confused gentleman.
and with some clever use of copy and paste they soon had a book finished, a guaranteed best seller
Working on a more scary outfit for Mr Cthulhus comeback the choice fell on leotards, the most scary clothes known to civilization.
With an generous advance on book sales, Mrs Cthulhu finally could afford a completely new way of living more in line of her deepest wishes.
Mr Cthulhu repositioned in his company again was the hottest name in the scaring industry, safe in the knowledge that if he were to be pestered by a competing scare company ..
he only had to sit down besides Mrs Cthulhu with some ill placed questions on soap plots to erase any upcoming firms from the scare sector. Mrs Cthulhu is very particular with her Television habits.
THE END

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Arriving in town, Mrs Cthulhu gives a card to her son with an address, she tells him to fetch a man living there.
At "Scary Clown" the CEO is enjoying the fiscal report on the year so far, the times sure are great for "Scary Clown"
Suddenly Mrs Cthulhu enters the room with a bang, stating she'll go Paleozoic on their asses if they do not return Cthulhu inc immediately. Instead of obeying Mrs Cthulhu the angry clown CEO pressed the alarm horn. Calling for help throwing the crazy woman out of the building.
Strange sounds could be heard all over town, what fiendish deed did the scary clowns do to Mrs Cthulhu?
In her softest voice Mrs Cthulhu restated her demands. Now that the clowns had a better understanding of the Paleozoic era, they were more than willing to comply with her every wish.
Back at the car Mrs Cthulhus son were waiting with a rather confused looking man dressed in a thawb.
To be concluded tomorrow...

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With his company in hands of scary clowns and not daring to venture outdoors due to hordes of rabid poodles mr Cthulhu is forced to stay indoors.
Mr Cthulhu tries to interest himself in his sons dance, but mr Cthulhus has lived a sheltered life, the intricacies of modern ballet passes him right by.
Mr Cthulhu joins his wife in front of the television. Mr Cthulhus utter lack of any rudimentary knowledge of celebrity culture and his persistent questions about the the plot lines of the soap operas soon puts Mrs Cthulhu in a borderline state.
The fact that Mr Cthulhu copes badly with alcohol, a mere martini puts him safely to sleep. Mr Cthulhus mammoth snoaring finally puts Mrs Cthulhu into action.
Mrs Cthulu removes her curlers puts on her battle face, fetches her son and
..head into town, no clown is to destroy her sanctuary..
to be continued .....

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I love to be scared. It’s why I love Halloween and walking late at night. When other people want to unwind with a good book, they choose something light and funny. I go for straight-up horror—the creepier, the better—which is why I recently looked up what are broadly considered the scariest books of all time. There are tons of lists, but here is a pretty accurate accumulation of books that were mentioned repeatedly:

The Shining by Stephen King (and several other books of his. The movie is one of my all-time favorites, and his short story collection, Everything’s Eventual, is still the best collection of all time.)
Hannibal Lecter by Thomas Harris (Silence of the Lambs made the cut, as well. Also a great flick.)
The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty (Also a great flick.)
American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis (ALSO a great flick.)
The Road to Madness by H.P. Lovecraft (anything by him, generally)
Ghost Story by Peter Straub (I remember this one scared the crap out of me in college. Movie was so-so.)
The Works of Edgar Allan Poe (Duh. Goes without saying.)
Turn of the Screw by Henry James (The Others with Nicole Kidman was an adaptation of this story.)

I could go on for a while here, but you get the idea.

I went to the library and picked up The Exorcist, a book of Poe stuff, Turn of the Screw, and The Road to Madness. I felt it important that I read some of the “great horror authors” in order to become a better horror author myself. The Exorcist, as expected, was creepy. I adore Poe—always have, always will. Turn of the Screw was terribly boring and not scary in any way. Lovecraft may be over my head a little, but I haven’t passed judgment on him … yet.

The point of all this? I think something’s wrong with me. Because I wasn’t scared at all.

The same goes for movies. I adore horror movies. I watch them all the time. I think I remember that they used to scare me, but they don’t anymore. Now, I watch them for the cinematic value and because I just, well, like ‘em. But I’m not necessarily scared of horror films, especially when you consider I have to walk our dog at 3 AM, by myself, and all I do is yawn. After watching Halloween or The Shining, any normal person would probably look over her shoulder at least a little bit and wonder if someone’s there.

Our country as a whole has a similar problem, I think, and it has never been more apparent to me than right now. Yesterday, the White House announced they would not be releasing photos of Bin Laden’s shattered, bloody forehead, and everyone started to complain. What the hell is the matter with us? Have we watched too many episodes of CSI? Why on earth do we want to see a picture of some dead guy, even if he was a terrorist? It’s because we’re not afraid anymore of what we should humanely be afraid of. We’re not scared of gore, which is why we watch terrible, grotesque torture films like Saw, Saw II, Saw III … you get the

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