Nyarlhotep, or President Northrup to the world of men, watched with barely concealed glee as the ocean boiled. How long he had waited. How long he had played these games.

Now, a few more prods, a few more chants, and everyone would be here. Not Hastur, of course. Not after that mess at the ice rink. But that was no great loss. And it meant Squigoloth would come. That guy was a hoot! Well, not "guy" so much as bubbling mass of flesh and organs. Still, the funniest of the elder gods.

As a green arm rose from the sea, making him think of a zombie movie, an aide gave a small cough for his attention.

"Can't you see I am busy? It better be ftaghn important."

"It is, sir. We are getting a request for gelato, and the current... conditions are making it impossible to provide."

"Ah tell me it isn't Yog-Sothoth."

The aide handed him a cell phone.

"Yoggy, old pal, why are you asking for gelato? You know the boys can't swing that right now... Listen, let me get Cathy set here first, then we... No I'm not saying old C-dog is more impor-... NO, WE CAN'T GET GELATO RIGHT NOW!" He hung up and handed the phone back to the aide. "Family, right?"