I must inform you, with watery regrets:
Aboleth make terrible pets.
And they’re sure to treat you awfully
Unless you’re Lovecraft (“H. P.”)
They are a trifle Dagonatic
If not outright doggone dramatic
And like the twisting wand next to that felled Witch,
They do come off as just a bit eldritch.
It’s not that they’re entirely Mouth;
Just that every other part goes South.
It’s hard to think of conversation
When the face is an orifice Abomination.
If you’re aware of the Aboleth,
I hope you smoke a lot of Meth
Since they’re basically teeth with a touch of mouth,
You’ll find your sanity quickly goes South.
Even Nessie, even the Meg
Might find itself taken down a peg
By this Monster of the watery deep
(Which troubles me when I try to sleep.)
Aboleths are Ancient Evils
(And nevermind if they ain’t Medievals)
They’re keepers of a darkling Lore
Which is seldom heard on landed shore.
Before the coming of the Gods,
Anyone could risk the odds
Of trawling for Aboleth undersea
And risking their psychic savagery.
You ought to fear the Aboleth
Its mind is black, its attack is death,
What they lack in morals (or body hair)
They make up for with monstrousness
and lack of air.
__
“It’s a little-known fact, but Unicorns are something like 20% paint, and their horns are stolen exclusively from endangered species.”
― There and Never, Ever Back Again
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