WEBVTT - Dr. Anton Jessup's Halloween Spectacular

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<v Speaker 1>Welcome to Stuff to Blow your mind, a production of

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<v Speaker 1>iHeartRadio Good Evening.

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<v Speaker 2>My name is doctor Anton Jesson, professor of Monster Studies

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<v Speaker 2>here at the University. My assistant Maxwell and I are

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<v Speaker 2>still working out this whole pod casting thing, using the

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<v Speaker 2>antiquated technology at our disposal to record, edit, and co

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<v Speaker 2>opt a science podcast feed in order to attend to

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<v Speaker 2>the various monstrous correspondences we have to reply it. Given

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<v Speaker 2>all of this work and the demands of my own

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<v Speaker 2>other research projects, I hope you understand we can't possibly

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<v Speaker 2>do this more than once or maybe twice a year.

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<v Speaker 2>So let's go ahead and fire up the pneumatic tube,

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<v Speaker 2>remove the canister, and see what we have here. First,

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<v Speaker 2>spectacles please Maxwell. This one is written in small script.

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<v Speaker 2>It reads, dearest doctor Jessop, I confess that my husband

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<v Speaker 2>and I are writing to you at our wits end.

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<v Speaker 2>Our issue, you see, is our young son Bob. We've

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<v Speaker 2>tried everything we can think of to give him a

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<v Speaker 2>proper environment to nurture his inner darkness, but nothing seems

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<v Speaker 2>to take. When Bob was a toddler, we lived in

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<v Speaker 2>a house that we'd been garanteed had been built on

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<v Speaker 2>a former burial ground in which the headstones had been moved,

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<v Speaker 2>but the rotting bodies had not. We tried in vain

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<v Speaker 2>to interest Bob in the eerie voices that would manifest

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<v Speaker 2>in the post broadcast television static or the mysterious portal

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<v Speaker 2>to another dimension that had so obligingly manifested in his

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<v Speaker 2>bed room closet. Decaying corpses routinely burst from the swimming

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<v Speaker 2>pool and the beast rampage several times through our living room,

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<v Speaker 2>but Bob remained blissfully oblivious, playing with his blocks, or

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<v Speaker 2>horror of horrors, watching the loathsome sesame street. Thinking that

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<v Speaker 2>we understood the problem, we moved to a house that

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<v Speaker 2>was next to a proper cemetery, complete with tombstones, both

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<v Speaker 2>in the yard and even one inside the living room.

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<v Speaker 2>We set up playdates for Bob with a ghostly young

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<v Speaker 2>lady from the neighborhood, and hired the most unsettling babysitter

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<v Speaker 2>we could find, hoping that their bad influence would help

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<v Speaker 2>Bob achieve his potential alas even with witnessing multiple random

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<v Speaker 2>bat attacks by a curiously persistent member of the species

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<v Speaker 2>and mutilated corpses mysteriously piling up in the cellar. Bob

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<v Speaker 2>has persisted in his love of wholesome children's tes television,

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<v Speaker 2>and I shudder to say his model drain set. Doctor jessup,

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<v Speaker 2>Are we trying too hard with Bob? Would malign neglect

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<v Speaker 2>perhaps be a better strategy with our son? In our

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<v Speaker 2>loftiest dreams, we see him summoning forth Luke Thou or

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<v Speaker 2>Nikra Korraf. But perhaps we'd settle for him writing a

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<v Speaker 2>series of best selling hard novels that culminate in a

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<v Speaker 2>tone that drives the entire world insane. Whatever are we

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<v Speaker 2>to do? Yours, respectively be deviled near Boston, Ah, A

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<v Speaker 2>parent in question. Let's see well. First of all, I

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<v Speaker 2>share your suspicion of Sesame Street, though the count is

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<v Speaker 2>a good friend of mine. It really sounds as if

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<v Speaker 2>you've tried all the right things, providing your spawn with

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<v Speaker 2>the right environment and the right media, the right social

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<v Speaker 2>environment as well. I wish I could employ the expertise

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<v Speaker 2>of my colleague doctor Freudstein, but alas he no longer

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<v Speaker 2>answers my letters, my advice is to maybe lean into

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<v Speaker 2>the whole train set obsession. There are many wonderfully haunted

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<v Speaker 2>trains out there, and various monsters are drawn to their

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<v Speaker 2>strange energies. The late Professor Sir Alexander Saxton wrote some

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<v Speaker 2>rather excellent works on the Trans Siberian Railway and ancient

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<v Speaker 2>beings that wouldn't quite stay dead. Yes, Yes, encouraged the

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<v Speaker 2>training obsession. This next one comes to us from a

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<v Speaker 2>Rackney lacayas.

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<v Speaker 3>Told Dear Doctor Jessup, longtime listener, first time writer. Though

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<v Speaker 3>I think you might actually remember me. I took one

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<v Speaker 3>of your classes back in the summer of eighty seven,

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<v Speaker 3>major heat wave, a series of unsolved murders just off campus.

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<v Speaker 3>Monster science is one oh one. You had us dissecting

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<v Speaker 3>a Class three plasma fiend and the thing rose up

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<v Speaker 3>just five minutes into the necropsy, raging bubbling over. It

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<v Speaker 3>dissolved a TA before we knew what was happening. Everyone

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<v Speaker 3>else froze, but I knew what to do. I broke

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<v Speaker 3>the glass panel on the emergency box, whipped out the

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<v Speaker 3>revolver inside, and dropped the fiend with three rounds. You

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<v Speaker 3>still gave me a C on the necropsy that semester

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<v Speaker 3>total bs, But I like to think I found my

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<v Speaker 3>life's purpose that day, or at least that's how I

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<v Speaker 3>used to look at it. Monster slaying sounds sexier than

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<v Speaker 3>it is. It's not the desperate villagers who come calling,

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<v Speaker 3>it's the monster makers. I have a few regular clients

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<v Speaker 3>in the fringe sciences Zorka Calligar Courtner. You know, the type,

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<v Speaker 3>always pushing the boundaries, but never around to clean up

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<v Speaker 3>the mess, so they call me. It's hard to keep

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<v Speaker 3>good clients. The monsters generally catch up with them in

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<v Speaker 3>the end. But a special subset of my clientele don't

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<v Speaker 3>have to worry about that at all. They're the ones

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<v Speaker 3>who always get away with it. They have deep pockets,

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<v Speaker 3>deep powers, and an intense desire to stay out of

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<v Speaker 3>the limelight. I work a lot on behalf of her Grace.

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<v Speaker 3>We're not supposed to use her given name. Her cleaner

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<v Speaker 3>Walter rings me up every couple of months, a slippery

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<v Speaker 3>guy with serpent eyes behind tiny shades. We always meet

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<v Speaker 3>up at Noctua, this little bar downtown near the library.

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<v Speaker 3>He always tries to order me a Martinez.

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<v Speaker 2>It's a classic cocktail. You probably just haven't had a

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<v Speaker 2>good one. They make a good one here.

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<v Speaker 3>I don't do olive us.

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<v Speaker 2>Who doesn't do all of us?

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<v Speaker 3>I know I'm impossible. So what does her Grace need

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<v Speaker 3>me to handle? This time?

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<v Speaker 2>Another abarition?

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<v Speaker 3>Let me guess one of father's or did she lose

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<v Speaker 3>her temper again?

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<v Speaker 2>Miss Leia, and your name alone is an insult here,

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<v Speaker 2>but the Twelve tolerate you for your talents. Do not

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<v Speaker 2>mistake her Grace's silence for mercy.

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<v Speaker 3>I wouldn't dream of it.

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<v Speaker 2>Fantastic. Everything you need is in this file, along with

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<v Speaker 2>half your payment up front and pick up information for

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<v Speaker 2>the equipment. Now are you sure I can't tempt you

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<v Speaker 2>with a martini? We can start with a lemon twist.

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<v Speaker 2>I'm good.

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<v Speaker 3>You already know my ancestors. On one side of the family,

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<v Speaker 3>the former Kings of Arcadia, who served human flesh to

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<v Speaker 3>Zeus and were cursed as the first were wolves. And

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<v Speaker 3>on the other side, the master weaver, a Rakney, who

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<v Speaker 3>dared challenged her grace to a weaving contest, provoked the

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<v Speaker 3>gods with a tapestry that detailed the crimes of Mount Olympus.

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<v Speaker 3>The gray eyed goddess twisted her into a web spinning araknet.

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<v Speaker 3>I'm the convergence of two monstrous lineages, the Wolf and

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<v Speaker 3>the Spider, and I wouldn't exist at all if not

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<v Speaker 3>from modern science. The resurrection of ancient DNA. The biotech

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<v Speaker 3>company responsible Biogamouth didn't last long. When the Twelve discovered

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<v Speaker 3>the operation, they sent in their most horrifying enforcers, the Hecatonquarees,

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<v Speaker 3>the hundred Handed Warriors, though calling those horrendous appendages hands

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<v Speaker 3>is generous there the god's monstrous bioweapons meant to wage

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<v Speaker 3>war against immortal foes, so they made short work of

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<v Speaker 3>the scientists in their labs. But they spared the engineered

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<v Speaker 3>children of Biogamuth. Why threw away a useful tool? The

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<v Speaker 3>Twelve let us grow up in the world. They found

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<v Speaker 3>parents to raise us. My mom didn't know my true nature.

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<v Speaker 3>I looked like everyone else, really, and I just looked

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<v Speaker 3>like another infant in need of love. When she saw

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<v Speaker 3>the words Arachney Lacayan scribbled on my documents, she kept

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<v Speaker 3>it as my first and middle name. I took the

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<v Speaker 3>folder and left, better not to hang around too long

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<v Speaker 3>in her graces house anyway. I took the folder to

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<v Speaker 3>Butler's Coffee just off seventy Second, the one where they

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<v Speaker 3>hammer your laptop if you try to set one up.

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<v Speaker 3>No computers, no headphones, just books and below average coffee.

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<v Speaker 3>I spread the file's contents out in front of me.

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<v Speaker 3>Despite Walter's insistence, I'd still half expected the same old

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<v Speaker 3>god drama. Due to some code of theirs, the Twelve

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<v Speaker 3>never killed directly and saved their own monstrous avengers for

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<v Speaker 3>more serious threats. Instead, they spitefully twisted the mortals who

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<v Speaker 3>spurned or insulted them, as they've done for millennia. It

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<v Speaker 3>then fell to me and people like me to slay

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<v Speaker 3>their creations. If they proved an inconvenience, that's the Twelve

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<v Speaker 3>for you. Far be it from me to understand the Gods.

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<v Speaker 3>The file, however, detailed something unexpected. My Quarry was another

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<v Speaker 3>child of the Biogamath project, engineered and cloned out of

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<v Speaker 3>resurrected lineages of ancient god touched DNA. The document listed

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<v Speaker 3>her classification and tight black script Arachne Lacayan. That was

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<v Speaker 3>my classification as well, the very words that became my

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<v Speaker 3>mortal name. The monster they tasked me with slaying was

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<v Speaker 3>at the very least my mad science sibling, if not

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<v Speaker 3>my double. The document gave her an individual name Ekrew.

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<v Speaker 3>That was it. No other form of identification under the

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<v Speaker 3>dangerous or objectionable behavior section. The profile mentioned interference with

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<v Speaker 3>Olympian operations, which was thoroughly vague and almost as an afterthought.

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<v Speaker 3>Mortal murders. The documents recommended beheading as the preferred mode

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<v Speaker 3>of slaying, which I suppose would be the preferred way

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<v Speaker 3>of killing me as well, and listed an address and

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<v Speaker 3>time for ideal interception of quarry. The gods are precise.

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<v Speaker 3>They know where you are, and with a margin of

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<v Speaker 3>something like a city block where exactly you'll be. All

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<v Speaker 3>they have to do is point you in the right direction.

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<v Speaker 3>An appointment card in the folder included the name of

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<v Speaker 3>a nearby flower shop and an order number. An hour later,

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<v Speaker 3>I pulled a double edged short sword from a box

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<v Speaker 3>of carnations. To say it was exceptional craftsmanship would be

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<v Speaker 3>an understatement. Hephestus himself had forged it in another world.

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<v Speaker 3>I brought a fingertip within an inn of the cutting

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<v Speaker 3>edge to test it, and the flesh began to smoke

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<v Speaker 3>ever so slightly. It would do the trick. The documents

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<v Speaker 3>told me where to go and when to do it.

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<v Speaker 3>Such is the exactitude of the gods, and such as

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<v Speaker 3>their view of mortal tools like me in their minds.

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<v Speaker 3>I'd merely been placed on a track, little more than

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<v Speaker 3>a machine, but I followed the instructions all the same.

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<v Speaker 3>The old warehouse towered over the surrounding neighborhood. None of

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<v Speaker 3>the children and old people looked in its direction, though

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<v Speaker 3>they stared at me with increasing suspicion as I walked

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<v Speaker 3>past them. And then the living neighborhood simply ended. The

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<v Speaker 3>buildings most adjacent to the warehouse were abandoned and boarded up,

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<v Speaker 3>as if some event horizon were crossed. And venturing so

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<v Speaker 3>deeply into the warehouse's shadow, I went to the predetermined

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<v Speaker 3>doors and found them chained and enough steel to shackle

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<v Speaker 3>an elephant. But even this was no match for my

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<v Speaker 3>favorite trick. My lineage is strange, you see. I pulled

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<v Speaker 3>off my left glove and moved my awareness to my

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<v Speaker 3>uncovered hand. I focused on my index finger and thumb.

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<v Speaker 3>I watched them elongate an arch into a pair of

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<v Speaker 3>lupine claws. I winced at the sudden pane of lengthening bone.

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<v Speaker 3>My nails sharpened into wicked claws. I pinched the claw

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<v Speaker 3>tips together, then pulled them apart to spend a single

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<v Speaker 3>thread of webbing that gleamed like silver even in the

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<v Speaker 3>deepest shadow. I looped the thread around the massive padlock,

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<v Speaker 3>and with a quick turn of my wrist, closed the

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<v Speaker 3>loop and severed the steel my strange legacy of wolf

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<v Speaker 3>and spider. I ventured into the darkness of the warehouse,

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<v Speaker 3>at first, encountering only the detritus of abandoned industry, dilapidated

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<v Speaker 3>machines of unknown purpose, and hints of the human work

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<v Speaker 3>force that once animated it all. But as I ventured deeper

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<v Speaker 3>into the space, other signs presented themselves. I passed fresh

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<v Speaker 3>wooden crates newly opened, and around them cast off plastic

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<v Speaker 3>and styrofoam padding some new industry, it would seem, pulsated

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<v Speaker 3>in the decaying husk of the old, And soon enough

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<v Speaker 3>I encountered signs of my quarry as well. I descended

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<v Speaker 3>a long hallway crisscross with lines of silver webbing much

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<v Speaker 3>like my own, and scattered beneath them the remains of

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<v Speaker 3>the dismembered bodies. My lap grown cousin could use her

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<v Speaker 3>threads as weapons. It seemed monofilament lines that, when pulled taut,

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<v Speaker 3>sliced through any one in their path. I knelt beside

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<v Speaker 3>one of the bodies. It was naked, humanoid and basic shape,

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<v Speaker 3>but more arthroopod in every other respect. Rows of tiny,

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<v Speaker 3>useless appendages lined its chest. I knew them well. These

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<v Speaker 3>were human louse hybrids, the accidental offspring of biogammus. Ancient

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<v Speaker 3>DNA experiments see Ectoparasitic lights sheese on the hair of

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<v Speaker 3>otherwise mummified bodies can preserve host DNA, making retrieval at

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<v Speaker 3>least seem possible. The science wasn't there yet, though, and

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<v Speaker 3>the cross contamination of human and lys's genetics birth monsters.

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<v Speaker 3>They often infested abandoned biogamath facilities. But I know what

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<v Speaker 3>you're wondering. Didn't the Hecatonkrees destroy all the biogammuth labs?

0:16:52.560 --> 0:16:57.280
<v Speaker 3>I wondered the same. I jumped at the sound and

0:16:57.320 --> 0:17:00.720
<v Speaker 3>glimpsed her a crew shoot across the inn of the hallway,

0:17:00.800 --> 0:17:07.000
<v Speaker 3>a figure wrapped in a tattered trench coat. I drew

0:17:07.040 --> 0:17:10.480
<v Speaker 3>the Divine sword. The threads of razor sharp webbing burned

0:17:10.520 --> 0:17:13.280
<v Speaker 3>away as I brought the blade near. I easily sheared

0:17:13.280 --> 0:17:16.200
<v Speaker 3>away the strands she'd used to slay the hybrids, as

0:17:16.240 --> 0:17:19.000
<v Speaker 3>well as the more subtle ankle level lines that she'd

0:17:19.000 --> 0:17:24.480
<v Speaker 3>loved to stop me, and so I followed her unobstructed,

0:17:24.560 --> 0:17:32.479
<v Speaker 3>into another vast factory space. Why you hunt me, cousin,

0:17:33.800 --> 0:17:38.560
<v Speaker 3>that's above my pay grade. We should talk, then, come out.

0:17:39.240 --> 0:17:47.840
<v Speaker 3>Let's talk. Not here. Something rushed me, and I ran

0:17:47.880 --> 0:17:50.200
<v Speaker 3>it through with my blade, but it was only her

0:17:50.200 --> 0:18:00.000
<v Speaker 3>empty trench coat. I saw her vanish behind a whole

0:18:00.280 --> 0:18:03.520
<v Speaker 3>industrial press, and so I dashed after her sword. At ready,

0:18:03.880 --> 0:18:06.919
<v Speaker 3>I narrowly managed to dodge and sever the threads of

0:18:07.040 --> 0:18:16.560
<v Speaker 3>razor webbing she'd left in her wake. I chased her

0:18:16.560 --> 0:18:20.040
<v Speaker 3>down another hallway, through another chamber with signs of recent habitation.

0:18:20.760 --> 0:18:23.679
<v Speaker 3>Here I passed not only fresh crates, but various tanks

0:18:23.720 --> 0:18:27.280
<v Speaker 3>and machines that unmistakably bore the logo of the Biogamuth Corporation,

0:18:28.119 --> 0:18:32.600
<v Speaker 3>the hand extending from a fiery double helix. It was

0:18:32.720 --> 0:18:38.600
<v Speaker 3>exactly the distraction she'd counted on. She'd flanked me amid

0:18:38.640 --> 0:18:41.359
<v Speaker 3>the lab equipment, and I felt loose webbing spin around me.

0:18:41.760 --> 0:18:43.760
<v Speaker 3>I pulled the sword up just in time to sever

0:18:43.840 --> 0:18:45.800
<v Speaker 3>it and keep her from pulling it taut around me

0:18:46.240 --> 0:18:50.359
<v Speaker 3>and threw me. As I brought the sword back with

0:18:50.400 --> 0:18:53.720
<v Speaker 3>the decapitation swing, but she was too fast. She recoiled

0:18:53.720 --> 0:18:56.399
<v Speaker 3>from the sword's lethal arc with maybe an inch to spare.

0:18:57.200 --> 0:19:00.560
<v Speaker 3>I saw her in full for the first time, illuminated

0:19:00.600 --> 0:19:05.280
<v Speaker 3>in the green glow of assortied biogamuth equipment. While I

0:19:05.400 --> 0:19:07.560
<v Speaker 3>could call on wolf and spider and do my one

0:19:07.560 --> 0:19:12.359
<v Speaker 3>little trick, she had embraced our lineage completely. She was

0:19:12.520 --> 0:19:18.080
<v Speaker 3>unclothed of human garments, but were splendent in her full monstrosity.

0:19:18.800 --> 0:19:21.760
<v Speaker 3>The animals we call spiders are just a shadow cast

0:19:21.760 --> 0:19:25.280
<v Speaker 3>by the form of God cursed a Rackney. So too

0:19:25.440 --> 0:19:28.679
<v Speaker 3>the twisted airs of Arcadia and the comparison of the wolf.

0:19:29.560 --> 0:19:34.400
<v Speaker 3>Human language fails in the face of a perfect monster.

0:19:37.040 --> 0:19:40.200
<v Speaker 3>There was a lupine wildness to her hair, which cascaded

0:19:40.200 --> 0:19:43.440
<v Speaker 3>in a flowing mane, down her spine and tail. Her

0:19:43.480 --> 0:19:47.399
<v Speaker 3>hands tapered into claws as long as my forearms, and

0:19:47.480 --> 0:19:51.120
<v Speaker 3>I saw the gleam of silver threads suspended between the tips.

0:19:51.880 --> 0:19:56.560
<v Speaker 3>Her eyes were deep dark pools, the eyes of a

0:19:56.640 --> 0:20:01.000
<v Speaker 3>hunting spider like mine, beneath the spe lenses I wear,

0:20:02.200 --> 0:20:06.520
<v Speaker 3>And in that moment, Ekru was my reflection, not of

0:20:06.560 --> 0:20:09.840
<v Speaker 3>who I was, but of what I could be if

0:20:09.880 --> 0:20:14.760
<v Speaker 3>I only gave in to the power. She smiled her

0:20:14.800 --> 0:20:18.600
<v Speaker 3>sharp teeth at me. You should stand with us in

0:20:18.600 --> 0:20:21.919
<v Speaker 3>this light? What if I stand with them? Mortals you killed?

0:20:23.080 --> 0:20:27.280
<v Speaker 3>They choose to serve the tyrants of you when you

0:20:27.520 --> 0:20:32.600
<v Speaker 3>see what we've grown here. Though, I don't care about

0:20:32.600 --> 0:20:36.200
<v Speaker 3>Biogamuth or whatever titan they think they've resurrected this time,

0:20:38.600 --> 0:20:44.800
<v Speaker 3>not the tightening cuss. I think we sprang at the

0:20:44.880 --> 0:20:48.200
<v Speaker 3>same time. If deep down we were the same, then

0:20:48.200 --> 0:20:51.800
<v Speaker 3>I suppose our instincts and impulses were identical, though not

0:20:51.880 --> 0:20:56.800
<v Speaker 3>our weapons. I slashed my sword and felt one of

0:20:56.800 --> 0:20:59.560
<v Speaker 3>her razor webs spun so deftly in the air, sliced

0:20:59.600 --> 0:21:04.720
<v Speaker 3>clean through my shoulders. My left arm fell to the

0:21:04.720 --> 0:21:07.159
<v Speaker 3>floor in a cascade of blood, though not all of

0:21:07.200 --> 0:21:12.480
<v Speaker 3>it was mine. My monstrous double, my more perfect twin,

0:21:13.680 --> 0:21:16.479
<v Speaker 3>laid at either side of me, cleaved neatly into by

0:21:16.480 --> 0:21:22.359
<v Speaker 3>the fifestian sword. I let the weapon fall from my

0:21:22.400 --> 0:21:26.680
<v Speaker 3>remaining hands. Our collective blood hissed and smoked against its

0:21:26.720 --> 0:21:34.080
<v Speaker 3>otherworldly steel. I struggled to stay on one knee to

0:21:34.160 --> 0:21:42.800
<v Speaker 3>avoid collapsing from the sudden catastrophic blood loss, but I

0:21:42.880 --> 0:21:49.159
<v Speaker 3>am not quite human. I have never been, And so

0:21:49.280 --> 0:21:52.600
<v Speaker 3>I felt the wound rapidly clotting, the severed veins and

0:21:52.720 --> 0:21:56.720
<v Speaker 3>arteries stitching themselves closed. I used my teeth to pull

0:21:56.760 --> 0:21:59.159
<v Speaker 3>the glove off my remaining hand and let my claws

0:21:59.200 --> 0:22:09.800
<v Speaker 3>grow out, felt my fangs grow sharp. I'd completed my assignment,

0:22:10.800 --> 0:22:16.400
<v Speaker 3>but she was right. I needed to know how had

0:22:16.400 --> 0:22:20.439
<v Speaker 3>biogamas survived. What were they attempting to resurrect from ancient

0:22:20.520 --> 0:22:23.640
<v Speaker 3>artifacts and desiccated flesh. If not one of the Titans

0:22:23.680 --> 0:22:26.639
<v Speaker 3>of old, the parents and forerunners of the current long

0:22:26.720 --> 0:22:37.240
<v Speaker 3>declined dynasty of gods. Still faint, still barely able to

0:22:37.240 --> 0:22:40.879
<v Speaker 3>push ahead, I shambled deeper into that temple of abandoned industry,

0:22:41.280 --> 0:22:46.280
<v Speaker 3>into the otherworldly fusia glow of multiple grow tanks. I

0:22:46.280 --> 0:22:49.760
<v Speaker 3>saw the suspended flesh inside. If flesh it truly was.

0:22:50.800 --> 0:22:55.000
<v Speaker 3>This was no Titan or God, no genetic mixture of

0:22:55.040 --> 0:23:01.200
<v Speaker 3>their offspring. It was something infinitely more horrifying, more perfect. Still,

0:23:05.040 --> 0:23:09.560
<v Speaker 3>curtains of shredded silk obscured the great central vat. As

0:23:09.560 --> 0:23:13.480
<v Speaker 3>I stumbled toward it, I glimpsed wild shapes moving within

0:23:13.560 --> 0:23:19.840
<v Speaker 3>the glowing fluid. I fell to my knees. I raised

0:23:19.880 --> 0:23:26.159
<v Speaker 3>my clawed hand to draw back the veil. Anyway, just

0:23:26.200 --> 0:23:28.680
<v Speaker 3>thought you'd be interested to hear about all that love

0:23:28.720 --> 0:23:33.120
<v Speaker 3>the show. Say hi to Maxwell for me, iraqne la canne.

0:23:37.359 --> 0:23:43.680
<v Speaker 2>Ah very nice. I always crave the discovery of new monsters,

0:23:43.760 --> 0:23:48.959
<v Speaker 2>though alas I don't remember you specifically, too many future

0:23:49.000 --> 0:23:53.720
<v Speaker 2>monster hunters to keep track of, honestly. Finally, here's one more.

0:23:54.480 --> 0:23:57.919
<v Speaker 2>It reads, Dear doctor Jessip, who would win in a

0:23:57.960 --> 0:24:03.040
<v Speaker 2>battle between the Blob and my friend Reginald? Full disclosure

0:24:03.359 --> 0:24:06.879
<v Speaker 2>Reginald is a vampire. Hmmm, I have to go with

0:24:06.880 --> 0:24:10.680
<v Speaker 2>a blob on this one. Sorry, Reginald. Well, that's all

0:24:10.720 --> 0:24:15.080
<v Speaker 2>the time we have for today, Maxwell, if you would

0:24:15.880 --> 0:24:17.680
<v Speaker 2>in transmission.

0:24:20.800 --> 0:24:24.399
<v Speaker 4>Hey, everybody, regular listener Mail will return next week, but

0:24:24.520 --> 0:24:27.520
<v Speaker 4>thanks as always to doctor Anton Jessop for filling in

0:24:27.560 --> 0:24:31.160
<v Speaker 4>for Joe and me this week. This episode was produced

0:24:31.320 --> 0:24:35.639
<v Speaker 4>entirely by the excellent JJ Possway, Annie Reese's co host

0:24:35.640 --> 0:24:38.359
<v Speaker 4>of Savor and Stuff, Mom Never Told You, contributed her

0:24:38.440 --> 0:24:41.320
<v Speaker 4>voice acting talents to portray all a Rackney like Hans

0:24:42.000 --> 0:24:45.320
<v Speaker 4>And if you or someone you know happens to have

0:24:45.359 --> 0:24:48.080
<v Speaker 4>a question or two or some comments to share with

0:24:48.160 --> 0:24:52.040
<v Speaker 4>doctor Anton Jessop concerning monsters. You can email them to

0:24:52.119 --> 0:24:55.920
<v Speaker 4>us and we will forward them to him and his cohort.

0:24:56.520 --> 0:24:59.720
<v Speaker 4>He'll probably be back for a holiday episode before he

0:24:59.760 --> 0:25:02.840
<v Speaker 4>reached treats into his studies for yet another year, So

0:25:03.000 --> 0:25:06.840
<v Speaker 4>just send those emails to contact at stuffd blow your

0:25:06.920 --> 0:25:15.200
<v Speaker 4>Mind dot com.

0:25:15.280 --> 0:25:18.240
<v Speaker 1>Stuff to Blow Your Mind is production of iHeartRadio. For

0:25:18.320 --> 0:25:21.119
<v Speaker 1>more podcasts from my Heart Radio, visit the iHeartRadio app,

0:25:21.240 --> 0:25:24.000
<v Speaker 1>Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to your favorite shows