I, Cthulhu, or, What’s a Tentacle-Faced Thing Like Me Doing in a Sunken City Like This (Latitude 47° 9′ S, Longitude 126° 43′ W)?

In Gaimans (very) short story, Cthulhu dictates her memoirs to his human servant Whatley, who is taking them down.

I never knew my parents.

My father was consumed by my mother as soon as he had fertilized her and she, in her turn, was eaten by myself at my birth. That is my first memory, as it happens. Squirming my way out of my mother, the gamy taste of her still in my tentacles.

Don't look so shocked, Whateley. I find you humans just as revolting.

Then I discovered the fun one can get in conquering these odd worlds, subjugating the inhabitants, getting them to fear and worship you. It's a real laugh.

A typically Gaiman style story that makes you chuckle until the hairs start to rise on the back of your neck.

A wonderful little Christmas read.