Exceedingly bad writing.

A couple of dear friends gave the Charming Man the (dubious) gift of six issues of a magazine titled, "Cthulu Sex: Blood, Sex, and Tentacles."

Fascinated beyond belief, I simply had to page through the unimaginable horrors (no names are given here to protect the guilty). And horrors there were, with such titles as:

The Pecker at the Passageway (this poem was actually pretty funny)
Decomposition: An Ode
Nerf Sex Doll
Any Ditch Will Do

And such deathless literary lines such as:
"He trudged through the dessert, his mind focused on his final destination."

or

"It's not easy to fuck a tree."
(ok, I'll admit it. This is actually a hell of an opening line.)

or
"I can almost feel him sniffing at me in the dark some misshapen nose ferally twitching, wrinkling skin beneath glowing red eyes."

or
"He wreaks of alcohol, dulling his halo to a highlight in my eyes."
(I have no idea what the author was trying to say)

.