September 3rd, 1936 ...
The lonely steam-tramp strained as it chugged along the glass-like ocean surface illuminated only by a gibbous moon.
"Faster, damn you!" cried the professor of mystical arts, his face a sallow caricature of the proud, swaggering academic he had been just two days prior. "We must get the steam up! The beast cannot be far behind!"
The professor fidgeted with the talisman in his pocket. The stone bas-relief of a strange, eldritch language and loathsome figures felt unnaturally cold under his fingertips.
There was a massive swelling in the wine-dark sea to the aft of the ship. With the deafening sound of an enormous bulk bursting from the water, it emerged; a hideous tentacled and squamous head with cruel, effulgent eyes erupting from the waves. It was the Great Cthulhu, that loathsome sorcerer-god of the Great Old Ones, printed in breathtaking detail on 100% combed ringspun cotton.
"Heaven save us!" cried one of the deckhands. "It's a size XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXL!"
The tenebrous figure rose into the night sky, inking out the light of the ancient stars, before crashing down on the doomed vessel.