It happened shortly after a copy of an infamous play, The King In Yellow - the second act of which is a doozy - appeared one day on the desk at headquarters.

It wasn't that devastating. Even though one of us (not naming who) immediately started gnawing at their wrists and had to have their face covered with a mouthless mask to keep from chewing.

The rest of us, nearly sixty in all, began raving about yellow kings and weird places like Carcosa where someone named Cassilda or Camilla threw a ball by a lake.

In their masks Carcosans cavort beneath the two suns which shine a ghastly hue, and they want you to know...well, soon enough.

Let's go see the awaiting King. He wears no mask.

He asks the same of you.