[planning meals and making a shopping list for x]
jodi: Oh, we'll go to the market and get chicken breast with no things in it.
x: You are, like if, Joss Whedon wrote a Chthulhu mythos.
jodi: I mean, not injected with antibiotics.
x: 'A tentacled thing rises out of the depths.'
jodi: Ah, I get it. Like this? 'A tentacled thing rises from the depths of a space of wetness and into a place that is not wet where there are creatures with sticks coming out of their core and they transport in a vertical way.'
x: That's extreme, but yes. This also reminds me of if Lovecraft wrote the Twilight series. 'The wretched beast stepped out into the meadow, where it began its eldrich scintillation.'