I need to stop entering your contests. My co-workers aren't accustom to me laughing and I think it's upsetting their notion of reality.

Ahem. May I present:

Chicken Soup for Cthulu's Soul, a tender collection of soft and slimy things, gibbering things born in the dark swamps of R'lyeh while the Old Ones dreamed, a descent into madness borne on a black plague-wind from the desolation of the human soul. Plus helpful tips on tax breaks for your cult of worshippers, who revere your most horrible form and offer their very blood.