[ Randall M. Ceah, interdimensional traveler, journal entry for 11/27/2024 ]

I took some time off from exploring after my previous encounter with Dagon. I took a leisurely stroll through domains I knew were mundane and peaceful. The serenity was welcoming, especially in those places outside of time and space. But soon my urge to explore the unknown got the better of me.

While starting up at the Indigo Skies and God Stars of the Keeper’s Domain, I hit the randomizer and a new dimensional door appeared. I then walked through it without a second thought. And my foot hit solid ground and I almost walked into a tree.

The tree was moving and walked on three hooved legs. It had many mouths with jagged teeth and its branches were tentacles all whipping frantically. I then stepped away from the tree and found that my dimensional door had vanished. And upon looking around my surroundings, I found countless more monstrous trees all standing a good twelve feet or more tall.

These were not trees but Dark Young.

I then concluded that I was in the domain of the Black Goat of the Wood, Shub-Niggurath.

Sure enough, Shub-Niggurath appeared and her young parted like the sea. She approached me as a semi-humanoid avatar. I say semi-humanoid because, though she had two arms and two legs and only one head, she was still far from human.

Her body was voluptuous with a generous bosom and wide hips. Her arms and legs were thick and shook as she walked. Her face had two goatlike eyes, a snout with three nostrils, and a fang filled mouth. Upon her head were two massive piano-black ram horns and matted black hair that moved like tens of thousands of tentacles. She walked on two hooved legs that moved like that of a bovine.

She was in a red dress with black lacing. The dress hugged her body like a second skin and showed off a generous amount of cleavage. On her head was a fancy black hat with a wide brim. She wore crescent moon earrings and on her chest was a necklace with a black pentagram.

I could not help but blush.

Women of a humanoid and unique variety were a great weakness of mine. Visiting dimensions where mythological women of a monster persuasion were plentiful was a frequent pastime of mine. And even though I know what stood before me was an avatar to a nightmarish goddess, I was still drawn to her.

Perhaps this is how one falls prey to becoming a cultist?

“Well hello there,” Shub-Niggurath greeted me. Her voice was more smooth and sweet then her appearance would let on. “Are you a tourist?”

“No, madame, I am an explorer,” I said with a bow. “And I was just passing through. So, if you would excuse me, I will be taking my leave—”

Shub-Niggurath then bent down and hovered over me. Her massive bosom was mere inches from crushing me. I tried to resist her feminine wiles but sadly, I was at her mercy. Damn my weakness for monster women!

“Oh do stay for a bit longer,” said Shub-Niggurath. “It’s poker night at R’lyeh and Nyarlathotep is dealing.”

“I was at R’lyeh recently,” I said casually. “It is . . . an interesting place.”

“Oh yes and I was invited to play. However, my babysitter for the young has gone and gotten herself eaten. Could you watch my young ones for me?”

I swallowed before asking, “And if I humbly decline?”

The cleavage of her breasts then grew fangs and became a gaping maw. A bead of drool dripped onto my shoulder. I humbly agreed to watch her young ones. Before she left, Shub-Niggurath led me to a large pile of wood.

They were all wooden tiles belonging to the game known as Scrabble.

There must have been a million or more of the tiny lettered tiles. Shub-Niggurath explained that some prankster made it rain Scrabble pieces in her domain. She had her young ones pile the pieces into one place by making it a game. The game kept her thousands of young ones busy for a while.

She showed me three tiles that were stuck together. They were originally blank titles that were painted over with the initials “T.T.T.” The Terrible Time-Trasher struck again! It seemed destiny and fate were bringing us together.

“My dark young are quite smart,” said Shub-Niggurath. “Have them play with these titles and the time will fly by. Be back before you know it.”

The Black Goat then took her leave.

And her thousands of dark young gawked at me without eyes. They patiently waved their tentacles and shuffled their feet. I then looked at the massive pile of tiles and pondered over the letters. I then turned to the children and waved my hands.

“Right! How about a game of words! Clump up into groups of a hundred and whichever team can spell the longest word wins! And each group can make as many words as they like until the pile is gone. Oh, as an added challenge, the words must have been used in American English cera 21st century. No Deep Speak or Forbidden Tongues, otherwise the whole team is disqualified. Ready! Set! Spell!”

I quickly moved away from the pile as the dark young descended upon it. I was shocked how enthusiastic they were to participate in this spontaneous play. I was just relieved that none seemed interested in eating me.

I walked between the groups that had formed and observed their attempts at creating elaborate words. Some only spelled words as long as “CATS” and “DOGS” but some were being creative with words like “UNCHARACTERISTICALLY” and “DEINSTITUTIONALIZATION.” I had to admit, there were some very intelligent ones amongst these monster children.

In a matter of hours, all of the Scrabble tiles were used and it was time for me to judge the winner. I automatically dismissed any word that was under twenty-three letters in order to make my analysis move more swiftly. Otherwise I could have been at it for aeons going over every single last word.

The onboard multiverse search engine (OMSE) on my interdimensional door device allowed me to look up each word. I was no expert in spelling or lexicology. But the dark young did not know that. So I looked up each long word to see if it was real and read its definition.

I found and ranked the top five longest words.

The first word I found worthy of ranking was:

“ANTIDISESTABLISHMENTARIANISM, definition, opposition to the disestablishment of the Church of England. Twenty-eight characters long! I rank this word in fifth place!”

The group that assembled the word seemed pleased. Fifth place was not bad when there were thousands of words made. But even at twenty-eight letters, they had stiff competition. I moved on to fourth place.

“FLOCCINAUCINIHILIPILIFICATION, which is twenty-nine letters long, is the action or habit of estimating something as worthless. Sounds like my love life! Ha. Ha. Ha!”

The dark young, being children, were aloof to such humor. They all gyrated their tentacles at me like a comedian being heckled off stage. I moved on to the next word.

“SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS, at thirty-four words, is in third place!”

One of the groups waved their tentacles irritably at me.

“Now, now, the group with PSEUDOPSEUDOHYPOPARATHYROIDISM agreed to play rock-paper-scissors for third place against this group because of two factors. Factor one, the third placing word is not technically a word but one that was made-up and made popular by a famous movie.

“And factor two, your group's word is a rare genetic disorder that mimics the symptoms of pseudohypoparathyroidism but without the underlying resistance to parathyroid hormone. Now everyone can see my dilemma as a judge. A popular made up word verses a disorder that mimics another disorder.

“Which, to me, feels a bit like cheating when one word is made-up but has popular culture behind it and the other puts the suffix of ‘pseudo’ in front of a long medical term that already has ‘pseudo’ in the name. But I am a fair judge and agreed to let one of you take third place. And such discourse could only be settled by the honorable and long standing tradition of rock-paper-scissors! Am I right?!”

Eight hundred of the thousand dark young also agreed with me that the two groups should play rock-paper-scissors. I will not go into detail on how two hundred creatures with tentacles went about a fair game of rock-paper-scissors. I will say that determining third place took longer than the actual word game itself.

After third was decided, I moved on to second place.

“HIPPOPOTOMONSTROSESQUIPPEDALIOPHOBIA, at thirty-six words, is in second place! The definition is the fear of long words! My congratulations to this group because I am a lover of irony.”

Upon further study, I discovered during the game of rock-paper-scissors for third place that the second place winner also was technically a made-up word. But I am a lover of irony, as I stated, and handwaved this one.

“And at first place, at a whopping forty-five words long, is . . .”

I paused for dramatic effect.

“PNEUMONOULTRAMICROSCOPICSILICOVOLCANOCONIOSIS, which is a medical term for a lung disease caused by inhaling silica or quartz dust! Congratulations to the winning group! Give them a round of applause!”

This word too was made-up. In fact, it was invented to mock other medical terms with long words. But I wanted the madness to end so I gave the win to another made-up word. We would have been better off with using Forbidden Tongues. The game would not have taken as long.

Funny enough, the forth place word, floccinaucinihilipilification, was the longest yet least problematic word in the whole game. I grew to appreciate such a word. And I will try to make use of it in the near future.

This word game with the dark young was an exercise in floccinaucinihilipilification. Ha!

Shub-Niggurath soon returned to her domain after the game concluded. Apparently she lost in poker very early on but stayed for the drink. I asked the dark young to return the tiles to their piles. The winning team left their forty-five letter word where it sat.

I suppose the dark young saw the word staying where it was as a substantial reward.

And what was my reward for watching after her thousands of dark young?

Shug-Niggurath paid me with Scrabble tiles. About one hundred of them. I planned to send the tiles to Mister Buck Bloom since he could use them for his blog. After leaving the Black Goat’s domain, I read a long winded text from Mister Bloom.

Apparently, Mister Bloom stood too close to a heater and set his pants on fire. He sustained burns that would prevent him from sitting for weeks. I decided to send the Scrabble tiles to him once he was further into his recuperation.

I then compared our unfortunate events. Which was worse? To have one’s buttocks be set on fire? Or to play word games with the offspring of a monstrous goddess?

Hmm? That is one competition I am glad I am not the victor. Because, well, at least during the game, I could sit and relax. Poor Mister Bloom, I do hope he has a speedy recovery.

Please note, this was a work of fiction. Any names, places, products, or Sexy Monster Goddesses featured in this work are purely fictitious. Any resemblance of actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. The actual date of this work being written is 12/23/24. And remember, always be Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!