“Preposterous!” Remarked the acclaimed professor. “I’ve done this research tenfold, and I have evaluated my conclusions in an intellectually honest manner. A singular variable is not sufficient to challenge my research. That is anecdotal evidence!

This is entirely fallacious!” The grad student, with a haunted expression that resonated with fear, implying to the professor what his flawed research may have done to world. “Dr. Hatfield. I understand that a singular incident is anecdotal evidence, but we are not dealing with logic, reason, or general academic principle. We are dealing with the fate of the entire human race.

I must assert, however, that this is not a singular incident. There are dozens of reports of the effect of this…creature, on every single American who has interacted with it just within the past hour. This is not an isolated incident. This is a worldwide phenomenon, and there is no evidence that the spread is retreating. Cthulhu is a disaster.”

Dr. Hatfield leaned back in his chair and assumed a face of solemnness. “My career is over,” remarked the professor. “This is the end for me. I’ve unleashed this upon the world.” The grad student quickly remarked. “No. You can fix this. There is still time. This isn’t the end. The fate of humanity depends on you.” The grad student handed Dr. Hatfield’s cellphone to him and asserted. “You know who you have to call.”

That was January 17^th, 2036. The day that Cthulhu unleashed his second coming, full of wrath and fury, on the entirety of the human race. This time, in a manner much more despicable than any previous event…in the form of 13-inch licensed action figures that caused skin breakouts on children.

“You have to call Hasbro. We have to recall Cthulhu.”

Across the nation, American parents were rushing their children to the doctor’s office in the weeks following Christmas. Because of Dr. Hatfield’s error in collecting DNA from the recently fallen Cthulhu, Cthulhu action figures were causing massive skin breakouts in children and parents who also touched the action figure.

The rashes were itchy, scratchy, and everything in between. Dr. Hatfield, who held two Ph.D.’s in Genetics and Ancient History, harbored a historian within who knew that Cthulhu would become one of the most important events in world history for centuries to come.

The geneticist knew that somehow, possibly, Cthulhu’s DNA could be manipulated and possibly reproduced in contemporary reproductive technologies to analyze the creature, the closest encounter with a God that Earth had ever experienced, from a biologist’s perspective. The businessman knew that action figures that emulated Cthulhu’s powers would sell widely.

The phone was ringing. Eventually, the chief executive officer of Hasbro was on the other line. Dr. Hatfield began to speak with him. “Yes? Hello? Yes. I know you guys are swamped…Yes, of course…You gave me this number yourself. This is Dr. Hatfield.” Immediately, Hasbro’s chief executive officer hung up the phone. “You have to call him back. You have to narrow in on how to stop this.” Dr. Hatfield redialed and waited patiently. “Listen. You have to listen to me...I’m truly very sorry...Yes, you should have invested in the new line of Transformers toys…Yeah, I know. Listen, we can still reverse this…You have every right to distrust me. This is my doing. I’ll come forward when this is over and announce that it was my miscalculations…What? Who? No one understands the complexity of this creature’s biology more than me…What? You have to at least let me assist him. I have to have some involvement in the resolution of this issue…The hell with it, then!” Dr. Hatfield aggressively hung up the phone. Matthew, the grad student, inquired, “What did he say?” Dr. Hatfield narrowed his eyes, “They have someone working on a solution that claims to know Cthulhu’s DNA better than I do! That’s impossible. The only being that knows more of Cthulhu is the demon that created him, wherever his evil soul resides.” The grad student was somber, realizing that his professor, whom he had long looked up to as a mentor and a source of guidance, was more concerned for his career than the fate of the human race…or, at least, Cthulhu’s customers. “What was his name? Did you get a name? Perhaps, you could contact him directly?” Dr. Hatfield shook his head. “There’s no point. They wouldn’t let me touch whatever they’re working on now. His name was something weird. Dr…Heartskill?” Matthew bent his head. “Let’s turn on the television. They’re probably blaming Hasbro more than you, anyway, for whatever is going to happen to humanity.” Dr. Hatfield grabbed the remote aggressively. “You’re going to get your Ph.D., alright? You can stop being melodramatic. It’s a skin rash. You’re right, though. They’ll probably blame Hasbro. Who knows. Maybe there was a mistake in their production and distribution.” Dr. Hatfield turned on the television.

A reproducible face entered the screen sitting behind a large desk. “After the news of the massive breakout was finally correlated with Hasbro’s new line of controversial toys based on the massive creature that led our assault on a planet, Dr. Robert Hatfield is being widely blamed for this incident.” Dr. Hatfield assumed defeat. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” The newscaster continued, “Many parents are expressing outrage over the incident.” The screen suddenly shifted to an interview with a parent standing next to a broken-out child. “My question is…why was the toy made with DNA from the monster? Like, what was the point, exactly? Was there a point?” Dr. Hatfield yelled at the television, “It was the relationship between artistry and genetics!” He changed the channel to another news station. “In the wake of the outbreak of skin rashes due to Hasbro’s newest toy, there is a small town in Colorado who have discovered a new idol for their cult devoted to the creature.” An odd-looking, broken out college student entered the screen standing in front of a large group of young adults worshipping the Cthulhu toy. “Yeah. Well. We’ve been holding worships for a while, now, but we’ve finally got an actual Cthulhu to use in our worships. We’ve all” The interviewer inquired, “And what inspired you to develop a religion centered around the monster?” The college student quickly replied, “I don’t know. Saw it on South Park.”

Dr. Hatfield turned the television off. He sunk back in his chair having now given up any hope that his once proud career had been instantly turned to ashes. “I will go down in history with Cthulhu. Cthulhu will be the creature who brought destruction upon planet Earth, and I will be the idiot who made him into a toy.” Matthew nodded his head, “So, can I write a paper on it, then?”

Although Dr. Hatfield’s once promising career had come to an almost complete termination, Matthew finally attained his Ph.D. after successfully defending an acclaimed dissertation on the events that he was closely associated with, and it was published with a title that still haunts readers to this day.

“The Recall of Cthulhu: Who Would Buy That, Anyway?”