Blood Sugar Cauldron: Lovecraftian Flash Fiction Inspired by an Existential Candy Meme


by Tom Scanlan

I remember when War Heads sprang into existence because it’s when my problem started.

As a kid, I used to consume the hard sour candies until my tongue split and bled. The sugar (C6H12O6) became inseparable from my blood.

I changed.

I yearn for Sour Patch Kids and the lesser sour candies still. I eat them until the roof of my mouth turns into dry whale ribs that I can run my tongue over, a xylophone that produces not sound but pain. I gorge myself on them at the expense of my body, which turns the sugar into fat that stuffs my skin like an overfilled sand bag.

I’m in the 24-hour Seven Eleven. I come here while the world sleeps. I’m studying the candy section for my next selection, when I hear the universe chant unintelligible words. I see a vast cauldron nested in a corner of the cosmos. Dark amber glucose tar churns inside, popping, sizzling, letting off a sweet hot candy reek. The presence from whose mouth the chemical song comes ignores the spitting liquid scalding its space-time flesh.

Does the presence notice me notice it? I think it does.

I think it wants me to know.

Its ululations increase in volume. I need to blot out the noise. It sounds like something is being willed into existence…

Is the time now?

The bag of sour Now & Laters my glassy eyes have been looking beyond shakes. One by one, bags of Sour Worms, Sour Skittles, Air Head Xtreme Sours, Sour Jolly Ranchers, Sour Trollis, and the War Heads that started this journey, tremble. The plastic containers crinkle. The loose grains of sugar inside them shake like sand in maracas.


A pale employee with a neck beard looks at me intently.


“I’ve been asking if you can hear me. Lay off the weed, dude. For fuck’s sake.”

“I’m not high,” I say. “I–” I can’t tell another person that I’ve been communicating with a deity I call (C6H12O6) about the progenation of its offspring.

I keep my mouth shut.

The cashier shrugs. “Fine. Whatever then. Stare at the candy until you get your heart’s fill.”

“Wait,” I say, before he walks away.


I cough. My throat’s felt tight, but now I can breathe. “Bags. Please get me bags to carry my selection up. I’m going to need a lot of candy tonight.”


gummy bear horror

I started this post as a means of sharing this hilarious meme about gummy bears becoming a singular consciousness because they melted in a car. I thought I’d leave a funny line about how my die hard consumption of War Heads, as a 90s kid drawn to their “extreme sour” allure, contributed to candy somehow acquiring consciousness.

Then this flash piece took on a life of its own, and then a half-decent form, and then after a couple hours with it, I realized it’s kind of a cool story.

You know… “what if…

  • you took a sweet (sour) tooth to its illogical extreme?”
  • gave that creeper in the late-night convenient store setting a cosmic backstory?”
  • considered that environmental forces and nutrition are already changing our bodies in ways no one could’ve foreseen in the 1950s, and gave that horror a dollop of glucose?”

Anyway, I don’t try flash fiction often. Let me know if this makes you think/feel anything!

Hellraiser / Boss Baby Crossover in the Works

Sources tell me that Doug Bradley and Alec Baldwin are going to provide a simultaneous voice-over for the Infant Hell-Priest Secret Agent.

The script involves baby Pinhead trapped in a playpen at a busy daycare in Liverpool, tormenting staff and mates by stealing snacks, hitting with toys, and incessantly soiling his diapees. All the while, he must solve an Illuminati conspiracy to get out of his infant form.

Paramount’s release date set for Summer Solstice, 2666.

baby hellraiser

This is fake news.

Giorgio Tsoukalos Gets A Visit From The Gray’s Goon Squad


This meme is pretty damn funny. But it’s also of epic (true meaning of the word) importance if, like me, you used to be an Ancient Aliens nerd. Or you’re at least open to the Ancient Astronaut Theory proposed by Zecharia Sitchin and Eric Von Doniken, and elaborated on in the show.

The first basic tenet of the Ancient Astronaut Theory is that in the past extra-terrestrials created alien-human hybrids and bestowed advanced knowledge upon them, hence the quantum leap between neanderthal man and the brilliance of Sumerians, Egyptians, Mayans, etc.

The second tenet is that ancient cultures misunderstood the extra-terrestrial’s advanced technology. That the created mythologies, renderings in holy books, and artwork, were literal representations of what they saw and experienced, filtered through the frail lens of their limited capacities.

E.g., the Hopi Native Americans called airplanes/spaceships thunderbirds; the Chinese called rocket-powered spaceships fire-breathing dragons; Noah’s Ark was really a warehouse with DNA samples used to re-populate the post-Great Flood world. Watch the show for a hundred hours of different evidence.

It’s 2018. So it feels like anything be true in the Post-Truth world, doesn’t it?

The veil between reality and imagination is thin right now.

That’s why I find it hilarious to picture mafioso alien thugs busting Giorgio Tsoukalos’s kneecaps. Telling him to quit flapping his trap. He’s the face of Ancient Aliens, known for his enormous hair, weird accent, and OG meme status.

meme tsouk

“Shut up, ya pomaded freak. We worked hard to keep these simians in the dark!”

There’s more to human history than we know. I’m a believer in mainstream science to a certain extent, but I’ve always been naturally skeptical of people who are science hardos based solely on faith. What they’re told are facts. For instance, less than one percent of humankind has ever seen space–yet one-hundred percent believe it exists.

I’m not saying space is an illusion! But I believe in this principle: ninety-nine percent of the people who say “I’ll believe it when I see it” in response to the unknown (or knowable), only believe they know most of what they know based on a child-like faith.

I’d untie him. At least guys like Giorgio look at things from a different angle. In the pursuit of Truth.

Remember the quaint days when people sought Truth?