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Do you want to know the truth about Ichabod Knock?

I of course speak of that writer (nick-named “Icky”), gonzo occultist, bass-playing exorcist, & buggerer of sisters. Maybe you even remember one of his old bands: Vestigial Limb, Necro-Ophelia, Rambunctious Homunculus, Azathoth’s Taint, or Banana Hammock. If you’ve read Strangeness in the Proportion, then you have encountered him (perhaps in more places than you realize). His exploits have built up quite a mythos. Some know these little apocryphal nuggets as THE ICKY FACTS.

A few days ago, I recieved this Tweet from @Suitov:

“Am stupidly happy that @IckyKnock actually exists. Is it true he challenged Satan for a gold banjo and Satan crapped himself?”

Like any folklore, it’s hard to know which Icky Facts have a kernel of truth, but the story @Suitov mentioned is part of the urban legend—though there is some controversy as to whether it was a banjo or a ukulele, if it was gold or silver, and whether or not it was a music contest or a two-man circle jerk.

I myself recently stumbled upon an apocryphal tale involving Icky Knock, a bottle of tequila, and eldritch fertility rites in a dark woods. There are those who say a full third of Shub-Niggurath’s thousand young bare a suspicious resemblance to Icky Knock, but the bastard pays no child support.

@Suitov shared some Icky Facts that I had not uncovered in my research. Including:

*The Loch Ness Monster used to live in Lake Michigan until Icky Knock wanted to have a swim.

*IckyKnock once told a Hound of Tindalos to “go sit in the corner” and look what happened.

*When asked about the old adage about shoe size and penis size, Bigfoot said “If it were true, Icky Knock would wear canoes.”

What Icky Knock stories have you folks heard? Please share.

Do you really want to know the truth about Ichabod Knock?

Icky was very helpful in researching my book—particularly the bits of paranormal lore of Chicago. But…things have gotten weird. Icky jokes that he invented me as a character, as part of some experiment. He says he kept a child in a ritual circle in the basement, constantly clapping, just to maintain me during the novel writing process. That’s silly. He says if I turn away from the computer, there will be nothing there. Ridiculous. I haven’t turned away yet. I’m scared. I’m not turning away. I’m real. I’m fucking real!