That’s just what the Deep Ones want you to think. They lull your fragile sanity with images of bucolic towns, gambrel roofs, and windswept beaches; then you get here and it’s all batrachian visages, exophthalmic eyes and livid gill slits. Before you know it you’re locked inside a bungalow behind a chainlink fence, dreading the coming of the gibbous moon that with it brings the soft, squelching of webbed feet on your porch.
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