Lovecraft was eating a cheese sandwich with lettuce and tomato. “I’m sure you’re skeptical,” he said, as mayonnaise dripped from his sandwich onto his plate, “so let me assure you that, of course, I make no claims to be the real H. P. Lovecraft – he passed away many years ago, tragically before his time – but a proxy H. P. Lovecraft. Every few years the Lovecraft Underground adjudicates a proxy Lovecraft, whose knowledge of the Great Old Ones qualifies him to act as an investigator – an advance scout, if you will – into the terrestrial conspiracies of the so-called ancient gods and their agents on this planet.”
“Wow,” I said. “How did you get all this knowledge?”
“So you believe in all this?” asked Meghan.
“My real name,” continued Lovecraft, “is Timothy Kerwin, and believe me, I am onl
