Scientology Elves

Meinwen pulled a few grubby paperbacks from the sideboard and looked at them. "Pulp science fiction?" she said. "That would explain the old man's descent into murder and madness"

"Ah, Lovecraft," I said. "Your pages were always my favourite reading."

"Yeah?" Winston shrugged. "I could never understand the fascination, myself. They were supposed to be horror stories, right? But Cthuluh, the main scary dude, was always asleep. It's hard to be scared of a monster that's always asleep and even if you manage to wake him up he's so slow you can drive a boat through his head which sends him back to sleep. Better to be scared of the things that are awake, that's what I say."

"But Ada wouldn't have his books in the house," I pointed out. "That's why we kept them in the outside loo." I frowned. "Which was fine until Frederick ran out of toilet paper. I never did find out what happened to the Priest of Dagon when he went to Florida."

"They're not by Lovecraft anyway," said Meinwen. "They're L Ron Hubbard."

"Elron Hubbard?" Winston laughed. "I remember him. Wasn't he the guy who liked Lord of the Rings so much he made up a religion based on going to Middle Earth when you die?"

"Something like that." I smiled. " Lafayette Ronald Hubbard. I liked him. He openly admitted in 1948 that the fastest way to make money was to invent a new psychiatric doctrine or a new religion. He chose the latter, of course. I wish he'd been in my region when he died. I'd have collected his soul and shook his hand."

"You really liked him?" said Meinwen. "What happened to all the 'Thou shalt worship no other god stuff?"

"Nothing," I said. "That's the point, isn't it? There's nothing quite like a screwy religion based on money and sex to drag its fans to Hell."



Image: Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health