Details
- Last Login
- 10/21/2010 7:42 pm
- Total Posts
- 2845
- Posts Per Day
- 0.41
- Member Since
- 12/14/2006
- Location
- The Flying Dutchman
- Gender
- Male
About
Beneath the thunders of the upper deep, as Aziraphale and Tennyson both knew, Far, far beneath in the abyssal sea/The kraken sleepeth.
And now it is waking up.
Millions of tons of deep ocean ooze cascade off its flanks as it rises.
"See," said the navigator. "Three thousand meters already."
The kraken doesn't have eyes. There has never been anything for it to look at. But as it billows up through icy waters, it picks up the microwave noise of the sea, the sorrowing beeps and whistles of the whalesong.
"Er," said the navigator, "one thousand meters?"
The kraken is not amused.
"Five hundred meters?"
The factory ship rocks on the sudden swell.
"A hundred meters?"
There is a tiny metal thing above it. The kraken stirs.
And ten billion sushi dinners cry out for vengeance.
-"Good Omens" (Pg235)
Friends
Journal
Davy's Diary and Doodles
Doodles from mah sketch pad, and general ventin' of mah angs-tah.
Multimedia
Signature
[img:7acb873ed5]http://i42.tinypic.com/1zodc7p.png[/img:7acb873ed5]
Comments
Viewing 10 of 20 comments.