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The Cat’s Asshole

Mention cosmic horror to most people, and their thoughts go straight to legendary brown sauce maker and all-round bigot, HP Lovercraft. Despite the man being a racist fucktard, his work is still idolised by a great many bufoons, who suffer the delusion he was the father of all things surreal in the horror realm. They might not want to invite the nasty cunt to dinner, but still suck up his work as if he was some sort of genius.

Well, here’s the thing: Lovecraft’s cosmic horror was shit. Yes, that’s right, Lovecraft offered little to the world of cosmic horror, other than some overused mythos involving cephalopods.

His work is put well and truly in its place by true masterpieces of cosmic horror, such as The Cat’s Asshole by Henry Wankstain.

The premise of this story is simple. When the narrator’s cat, Larry, lures him on a macabre journey, we discover the hellish landscapes and insane entities which reside inside the feline’s arsehole. Larry’s anal tract is, indeed, the gateway to a surreal and diabolic universe inhabited by creatures and entities so perverse, Lovecraft would have shit his breeches if he saw them.

If you don’t know Henry Wankstain, then you don’t know cosmic horror.

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