Call of Cthulhu, 12/21

“It’s a cry for help.”
“I know, but he’s not getting it from me!”

“Isn’t he supposed to, like, be populating his own planet?”

“Say what you will about the religion…”
“Oh, I do.”

“Yes, I could use the dice of shame.”
“I think they’re the dice of regret.”

“This is how schisms happen, right here.”

“Great, now we’re connecting Mormonism to 40K.”

“No, he doesn’t follow the hat; the hat follows him.”
“I think the hat goes both ways.”

“That’s the thing about my leadership style. It’s so subtle, you don’t notice it’s there. Also, people do better without it.”

“I actually learned to read upside down. Then I was told that that was wrong.”

“I am not a Pathfinder module, sir. I tell you about the monsters as you find them.”

“Uh… why did you start that sentence with ia?”

“These are loopy-dottys, and I don’t know loopy-dotty.”
“No, you know loopy Alice.”

“So not only does a hand touch your leg, but something warm and wet is running down mine.”

“A corpse and an opal are very different things!”

“Well, the next time we have moving unmoving dead, we’ll make sure to get a bucket to throw water on them to find out if they’re super-absorbent.”

“I am not dumping out my canteen on the corpse to see how absorbent he is.”

“I need two minutes and a flashlight.”
“…No, no, I don’t need to know.”

“So how absorbent is the corpse?”
“Not absorbent enough.”
“Somewhere between Pampers and Luvs.”
“It depends.”

“What are you doing?”
“I’m removing both its legs with my monkey hatchet and throwing them down the hole.”

“Oh, now you don’t want them to move.”
“Not when I’m looking down a 30 foot hole.”

“Ah, I’ve figured it out. They need a harmonica.”
“No, we’ve already done that one.”
“Hey, it worked once.”

“Can you dig it?”
“Don’t have to. It’s already been dug.”

“I’m beginning to suspect that you can’t do anything in a controlled manner.”

“They were specifically described as not bright. Like us.”

“I don’t think I have ‘Push on Wall.'”

“Strange encounters: humans, corpses, upside-down passages, London.”

“Tom Collins? Tom Collins? Tom Collins?”
“Um. Stanley Allambee.”