Chapter 3
Frank's Fools.
Pray, allow me to make a remark that may prove somewhat delicate for the readers within my cerebral realm.
I must confess, I harbor an abhorrence for the mythos of Cthulhu. And I daresay, perchance, many a soul among those who indulge in the multifarious artistic expressions of the 21st century might share my sentiment.
Indeed, I perused the tomes of Lovecraft in my former life. ‘Tis not as though I consumed every work of the Cthulhu persuasion, but I did peruse the majority of the renowned pieces, and some ere they were translated into the Korean vernacular, the tongue of the land wherein I dwelt in a bygone era.
I even paid my respects to the classics, the fount from which sprung innumerable creations.
However, a quandary arose when the commentaries of the creators accrued and reached an explosive zenith.
The otherworldly beings, which held their own in their own right, suddenly materialized as mere pawns in games of strategy or characters in video games.
Nay, there were even works of art unrelated to the mythos of Cthulhu that materialized without rhyme or reason!
As though their creators spoke it into existence! The figments of divinity, once dreaded and revered, became mere yardsticks of combat prowess in fantastical skirmishes. Such is why I hold disdain for the Cthulhu mythos.