If I were to title the above concoction of cocks and balls and other things mixed in I would call it Testiculor. While there will be no shortage of Lovecraftian themes in the New Las Vegas, at least one playground of adult fun will be the Necronomicon Hotel where Lovecraft and HR Giger unite in a wedding long awaited and anticipated. This will not be a relaxing venue for most people, one has to already be in league or at least contact with the outre realms that surround all sentient populations, be they on this planet or on others, or be they not on planets at all but instead those places devoid of atoms and electrons, where only measurement occurs and where the rules bend and warp and lose shape altogether while still yet existing. Those who book into the Necronomicon are never refused when at some point they proclaim at the desk that they just cannot stay for their full reserved time. Money is always refunded with a smile, or at worst a quiet stare of disgust, or perhaps a look of relief that yet another of the Unworthy has learned that some places are not suited for the idiotic and the bland and the vapid, and that the Necronomicon Hotel is one of those places, and please inform your idiot friends that this is not a good place for them either. That is what will happen when you ask for a cancellation of your remaining stay. You will be accommodated; and given a roadmap to Reno or Laughlin or Primm or Stateline at absolutely no charge. Goodbye O Dull One. And take your fat wife and grandmother with you.
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