So, there's this rabbit hole.....

Son of a fucking bitch.

They say that you're never supposed to fix things that aren't broken. Problem is, people pay me to fix things, no matter what state they're in to begin with. In my line of work, things tend to stay fixed.

So let me just tell you how much it CHAFES MY FUCKING NARDS when the client doesn't tell me that the problem he wants me to fix involves some Eldritch motherfucker from the abyss. Haven't seen it yet. Wouldn't be here if I had. I don't care if you enjoy slowjacking to Event Horizon with the lights off, you ain't coming out the other side of meeting a forty-foot-tall mound of oatmeal with teeth without losing whatever tenuous hold you had on reality in the first place.

The cute little path of entrails behind the Stop And Shop was the first clue. Hopefully I'm just dealing with a cultist who let his science project get out of hand. At least there's a way to make that problem go away... I think I might use a silver platter to deliver the poor schmuck's head. It'll make me feel better.

Either that, or something did come up from the depths, and all I've got is a big fucking gun.
I'll be rich, dead, or too insane to notice the difference.

Eh. It's a living.