The door swung wide, revealing an impossible avenue of cyclopean cubes whose gleaming basalt surfaces were carved with cryptic writings of hideous significance. Faceless, misshapen creatures shambled between the onyx boxes, while farther off in the distance, leperous forms gyred and capered in savage, degraded revelry.
"Good God" Mr. Andry breathed.
"Anybody out there seen a cappuccino-maker?" Sheep piped.
And then half-creeping, half shuffling down that monumental way, atop the bleached-white bones of countless million dead from the dawn of time, there came the ultimate vision of noisesome horror, lashing tentacles still draped with the clammy seaweeds of it's sunken kingdom. Inexorably on and on it came, it's hellish minions cavorting in its wake with languages no human mouth could speak. Their blasphemous litany accompanied it's progress until, at last, it's sinister bulk overshadowed office, desk, stacks of esoteric tube-amplified components, and the trembling Tom Andry.
"Hello!" the monsterous leviathan spoke, its voice like an uncounted chorus of rabid beasts and primordial viscious tar. "I'm Dr. Amar Bose. I've tried to reach you about reviewing my new Acoustimass® surround-sound system, but I keep getting your stupid ansswering machine."
and Andry fainted.
