My name is Daphne Pickman. Perhaps you’ve seen some of the fictionalized versions of our adventures. Don’t believe them. The truth is far more horrible. Yes, we have exposed a fair number of frauds, but there were cases we covered up. We had to. The feeble minds of the masses, laden in sitcom tripe, could not bear the lonely burdens we have borne. Perhaps some day, I’ll write down how we battled the band ‘God’s Lost Children’ or how we proved that Rush Limbaugh was a Deep One, his show an elaborate rite for unleashing Cthulhu upon the world. I laughed for relief when we successfully turned a shoggoth loose during one of his broadcasts and it ate him, then choked to death in the process. But that is a story for another time, and assumes your sanity survives reading this tale intact. Indeed, when I look back on the horrors we have faced, it is hard for me to understand how I have kept my sanity. Perhaps it is not so surprising that the dark knowledge which alone suffices to defeat the forces of the Mythos finally consumed the hearts and souls of my companions, thus forcing me to kill them and eat their brains.
The Doom that came to the Mystery Machine
[via FARK]