The Very Hungry Cthulupillar
Bathed in moonlight, an Eldritch egg lays upon the dross.

On the Sabbath, the unrelenting beating of the sun does cause a Cthulhupillar to arise from that horrid egg. It slithers forth, seeking, scrabbling, slithering in hunger.

On Monday, he devours a supplicant, but yet his hunger rages.

On Tuesday, he consumes two unspeakable horrors. The hunger remains, nigh unquenchable.

On Wednesday, three unlucky souls find their way into his gaping maw. The hellish emptiness persists.

On Thursday, four sanities are rent asunder. Will the Cthulhupillar ever be sated?

On Friday, he absorbs the life force of five unsuspecting victims. The Cthulhupillar slithers forth, vacuous and unceasing.

On Saturday, he attempted to slake his thirst with the soul of one Old One and of a martyr, the fear of the masses, the energy of the yellow sign, a parish of the righteous, the essence of the damned, the darkness of the deep, the hope of humanity and the dieties sworn to protect them, and the very fabric of reality itself.

That night, the inescapable rumblings of untold agony began.

Twas the Sabbath once more. The Cthulhupillar browsed the dross and slumbered once more, now neither hungry nor little. He is an unspeakably large Cthulhupillar.

A cocoon is secreted to shield him from the world's harshness. He remains sequestered within a fortnight.

Then, the stirring resumes... and... he emerges once more...

PH'NGLUI MGLW'NAFH CTHULHU R'LYEH WGAH'NAGL FHTAGN

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hah tiddies