Just An Average Day In Arkham

No, not the Asylum. This is NOT Batman, OKAY? ;)

A series of near-drabbles based on a single day in a VERY odd town. Refers to just about every one of his stories . . .

Once again, this is for Arthur Delapore–the best Lovecraft writer on the whole site! Now continue your story, A. D.!

I dun't aown anythin'–nawt even the accent ur the sawng.

9:00 AM:

"I'm bored."

Carter groaned. "Shut up, Warren. The last time yew said thet, we ended up chasing goat demawns en another dimension."

"I liked thet! Et was fun."

I rolled my eyes. "Exactly what part o' thet day caould qualify as 'fun,' Warren? Even Richard hated et, an' he's a ghaoul."

"Et was enterestin'."

I rolled my eyes. "Wal, may yew live en enterestin' times!"

"Yeah," Pickman muttered. He frowned. "Es thet Herbert West, ur am I even crazier than I thaought?"

"Yeah, thet's 'I'm."

"Thaought he was dead."

"He es."


10:30 AM:

We were en the local cawffee shaop–an', as usual, we were arguin'.

"Walter Gilman doesn't knaow what he's talkin' abaout," Warren said. "Thar aren't any 'other spaces' aout thar!"

"How waould yew knaow?" I replied heatedly. "A few years as a ghaost gave yew thet ensight? I've seen thaose lands, Warren. What right have yew ter say such thin's?"

We glared daggers at each other.

Carter grinned. "I heard that superstring theory requires . . . hmm . . . was et ten dimensions, ur 16?"


"Another cup of cawffee, please?"

"Yew've already had ten, Richard."

"Sew? I like cawffee!"

"Yew like et tew much!"

He frowned."Yew've had nine cups, Wilbur."

I shook my head. "I'm larger than yew are."

Jest then, the door opened.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ward," said the woman who aowns the shaop–she knaows everybaody en towen, ur sew they say.

"Kin we git gewin'?" Warren asked. "I'm getting bored."

"Yer allus bored, Warren," I said. "Yew've gawttun jaded."

1:30 PM

"Have yew met Zadok yet?" I asked.

Warren frowned. "Who?"

"Zadok Allen. He's the towen drunk–last o' the full-blooded humawns tew walk en Innsmaouth. Fled thet towen after thet idiot, Robert Olmstead, came araound askin' questions thet et waould o' been hard awn him tew fully larn the answers tew. He larned enaough, thaough . . ."

Warren grinned.

Carter and Pickman were arguin'.

"Yeah, wal–as I was tellin' Alfred Delapores, the rats en the walls are the least o' et," Carter said.

"Who?" I interrupted.

"Mr. Delapores' son. Remember the fellaow who turned aout tew be 'un o' the Beane clan reborn?"

"The Exham Priory incident?" I grinned and licked my lips. "Yeah, I remember thet." I frowned. "Pickman, stawp drinkin' sew much cawffee!"

"Et kin't hurt me. I'm a ghaoul, remember?"

"Sew what ef yew are? Yew kin still git a caffeine overdose."

"Okay, okay."

We left the cawffee shawp.

3:00 PM

Daniel Upton and Edward Derby were the only other people en the Orne Library when we came in.

"Hello," Daniel said, smilin'.

Edward, es usual, jest grunted.

"I heard thet they gawt The King en Yellaow here," I said.

"Yeah, they dew," Daniel said. "Nawt thet I've read et, mind yew!"

I grinned. "I read et 'un time. A bit . . . awd, but thet's okay."

Warren frowned. "Yew knaow as well as I dew thet no one kin read thet wit'aout gewin' insane."

I shook my head. "Thar be more thin's en Heaven an' Earth then es dreamt o' en yer philosophy. Ur dew yew really think thet I'm jest a humawn? I kin think the way thet they kin think, Warren. Yew knaow suthin' o' what my father was. Es et sew hard tew believe thet I kin read The King en Yellaow safely?"

4:30 PM

"Ever meet Dr. Munoz?" Warren asked us. We were nawt, thankfully back et the cawffee shawp, but et Pickman's haouse.

"Yeah, I met Dr. Munoz," I replied. "A bit o' an awd fellaow, but . . ."

"But smart." He grinned. "I felt the same way when I met 'I'm."

"Nawt the 'un as lives en a frozen room sew thet he wun't rawt?" Carter asked.

"Yeah, thet 'un," Pickman said. "I met 'I'm 'un time myself. He lives en Bawston et the moment, es fawr es I'm aware."

"Why did yew ask, anyway?" I wanted tew knaow.

"I saw 'I'm en towen yesterday, es awl."

6:00 PM

Warren thaought a moment. "Kingston-Brown, Nevel."


"I'm writin' a list o' the awd people en the world," he explained, in his usual non-explainin' saort o' way.

I grinned, rememberin'. "Born 2467, dies 2518. Right?"

"According tew poor ol' Nathaniel Peaslee, anyway. But then, those o' us who have been in the time o' the Great Race waould knaow better than the rest o' us."

"His sawn, Wingate, lives here, yew knaow."

"Yes, I dew." And Warren grinned.

Warren's face es nawt built fer grinnin'–his smile looks awlmost es bad as mine, an' thet's naw smawl feat.

7:30 PM

"Peaslee? Professor Wingate Peaslee, Miskatonic University?"


I laughed. "Dun't be sew scared, we aren't here ter hurt yew."

"Really?" He still looked plenty scared. "Than what do you want?"

"We have some thin's ter shew yew."

He let us en.

"Yer fawther es a lucky man," Warren said. "Most humawns die the first time they encounter thin's es bad as thet which he faound."

The yaoung man looked nervous, but he relented an' introduced us tew his fawther.

9:00 PM

"According to Theodotides, the Graeco-Bactrian society was older than historians think." The elder Peaslee was en a heated argument wit Pickman. O' caourse, baoth were havin' a great time-an' baoth waould've denied the very thaought, had any'un said et.

"But Yiang-Li of Tsan-Chan–" Carter said, only tew be interrupted by Warren, who was quite angry indeed about Titus Sempronius Blaesus: he disapproved of Sulla entirely.

"James Woodville waouldn't have knaown anyway," Pickman announced suddenly. "He was, after all, little more than a peasant. An' thet by his aown admission! And he always argued with Pierre-Louis Montagny, who wasn't thet much more modern than he . . ."

"Yes, but never over anything vital–mostly opinions," Nathaniel returned.

I rolled my eyes an' read a book, instead.

10:30 PM

"The Great Race left their home planet some four hundred seventy five million years ago," I was saying. We had left the Peaslee house saome time ago, an' were naow, as usual, arguin' over suthin' pointless. (We dew thet a lawt, have yew noticed?) . . .

The radio was playing a rock&roll sawng. ". . . why don't you take a walk with me, baby, tell me who do you love! . . ."

Naturally, we started arguin' abaout thet, tew.

"He said 'hide'!" Warren complained.

"Naw, he said 'tie'!" Pickman returned.

I sighed. "He rhymed the 'un wit the other."



I fraowned. "But he said thet suthin' o' his was 'made aout o' humawn skulls', an' yew kin't dew thet. Skulls are raound."

"Ciminted, then," Carter said.

"Glewd!" Warren replied heatedly.

I graoaned. "Will yew jest shut up? The sawng is over, anyway."


Warren frowned. "Accordin' tew the–"

"Can we gew haome naow?" Pickman interrupted. "I have tew git up early tewmorrow, yew knaow."

"Oh, very wal."

I laughed. "Yes, I need tew leave as wal. Yew knaow haow my braother kin git."

An' we left.

"What are yew dewin' tewmorrow, anyway?" Carter asked Pickman.

"Hopefully, nawt talkin'. My thraoat es gittin' saore!"

We laughed.

"You dun't really need a haouse thet large, yew knaow," Warren told me. He likes arguin' even more than the rest o' us.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes I dew. Ur have yew never met my braother?"

Pickman sighed. "Look, kin I jest gew haome? Naw arguin', naw debate over thin's we kin't unnerstand anyway?"

"I'd like thet, tew," I replied, "but Warren likes tew talk."

1:30 AM

"Gawds, I'm tired."

Sew I went tew bed.