This morning I found these guys climbing up my leg:

The big one looks a bit surprised, doesn’t he? Not as surprised as I was, especially when I remembered that I’d actually seen something almost identical in a book once. I checked the monster archives, and there it was: FANTASTIC ILLUSTRATIONS OF GRANDVILLE, as published and sold by the wonderful Dover Bookshop. Yep, another book full of amazing, mad things that I’d always assumed were products of the artist’s fevered imagination, but that now, ladies and gentlemen, I have found to be stark, horrifying fact.

Meanwhile, in the outside world, a new species was discovered today. Sorry if this sounds like moaning, but I’ve got to ask: if we authors in here /have/ to have crepuscular creatures creeping up our extremities, why can’t they be charming characters like the Psychedelica Frogfish, eh?

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