Speaker 1: Welcome to you stuff you should know from house stuff
Speaker 1: works dot com. Welcome to the Halloween Podcast. I'm Josh
Speaker 1: the Ghoul Clark. That's right, there's Chuck the Phantom Bryant
Speaker 1: and Jerry the ghoulish Phantom. Great. I think, uh, Darry
Speaker 1: didn't like being called a wraith. No. I think that's
Speaker 1: she didn't know what it means. No, you know, I
Speaker 1: think this tradition is so great and fun. Now. I
Speaker 1: think so too, that we are beginning to live alongside
Speaker 1: the Simpsons Street House of Horror. Oh, it's that venerated Huh.
Speaker 1: I think so? I think. I think. I think you're
Speaker 1: I think listeners really look forward to this, well, not
Speaker 1: on that level of like fame, but I think fans
Speaker 1: of the Simpsons look forward to that each You're just
Speaker 1: as our fans look forward to That's what I'm saying. Um,
Speaker 1: it's one of my favorites obviously both of us. Christmas
Speaker 1: and Halloween are probably two phaves of the year. Am
Speaker 1: I speaking for you? Yeah? But you're speaking correctly, all right.
Speaker 1: I can live with that, you know. I mean, like,
Speaker 1: those are the two that we know we're going to
Speaker 1: be good. All the rest of it's like hit or miss. Yeah,
Speaker 1: for the unknown, unadorned, unadorned, uninitiated, unindoctrinated, unindoctrinated, unexposed, unexposed.
Speaker 1: What we do is we we read a scary story
Speaker 1: for Halloween, and last with and Jerry Gussie's at all
Speaker 1: up with special effects. It's like this, that was amazing?
Speaker 1: How about that? That's creepy, Like I'm scared right now. Um.
Speaker 1: And last year we started a tradition where we are
Speaker 1: reading two shorter stories and that's what we're doing again
Speaker 1: this year because I think what happened is, well, remember
Speaker 1: we had a Halloween horror fiction contest. Well, yeah, that
Speaker 1: was great, that's pretty cool. Yeah. Uh and then but
Speaker 1: we started the whole thing out with was it the
Speaker 1: Tomb I think was the first one, and then we
Speaker 1: did bear nice yeah, then the horror fiction contest I think,
Speaker 1: and then I don't know how many of this is.
Speaker 1: Oh yeah, we'll have to figure it out, yeah, because
Speaker 1: we'll have to title it whatever annual Halloween Spectacular. Yes,
Speaker 1: which is a different thing that we did once on
Speaker 1: our very short lived web web video series what was
Speaker 1: that called webcast? Webcast? It's so ancient already that we
Speaker 1: can't even remote a live webcast. So you picked out
Speaker 1: this first one, um, and I picked out the second one. Well, first, first,
Speaker 1: hold on, I want to I want to give a
Speaker 1: plug to our buddy, to Grabster, because he hooked us
Speaker 1: up all right. So I don't know if you know
Speaker 1: this or not, but the Grabster knows what he's talking
Speaker 1: about when it comes to horror movies, and um I
Speaker 1: we tweeted to him and said, hey, man, can you
Speaker 1: give us a list of your favorite horror movies of
Speaker 1: all time? And the Grabster said, oh, are you gonna
Speaker 1: read them? But he said yes, let me give me
Speaker 1: a night and I will put it together. And by
Speaker 1: goodness if he didn't put it on his um personal
Speaker 1: site robot viking dot com. The post is some of
Speaker 1: my favorite horror movies and he just went to town.
Speaker 1: What's his number one? It's not listed to Spiria no,
Speaker 1: like he doesn't have them in order, but raw had
Speaker 1: Rex is on their Pontypool Triangle Return of Living Dead
Speaker 1: three and he justifies these. You know, I need to
Speaker 1: see ponty Pool because our buddy Joe Garden is long
Speaker 1: raved about the merits of the people. I've never seen it.
Speaker 1: Either and it's one of those ones. It's like, I
Speaker 1: think it's up on Netflix too. All right, so you
Speaker 1: picked this first one? You want to just set it up? Yes?
Speaker 1: So this is the moon Bog. It's hyphenated two words
Speaker 1: by our friend Howard Phillips Lovecraft, who is still one
Speaker 1: of my favorite writers of all time. Um. Yeah, even
Speaker 1: though you can just go on and on about him
Speaker 1: personally or his writing style or some of the devices
Speaker 1: he used, like other than describing something to saying it
Speaker 1: was indescribable or unnamable, I still love the guy for
Speaker 1: some reason. Uh. And this one is one of his
Speaker 1: um more interesting imaginative ones. Has nothing to do with
Speaker 1: the Cathulu mythos or anything like that. It's just pretty cool.
Speaker 1: It's a neat, little weirdo ancient haunting story about an
Speaker 1: Irish American who who uh doesn't follow the advice of
Speaker 1: the local townspeople. Let's just say that, not right. Are
Speaker 1: you ready? Do you want me to start? Yeah? Without
Speaker 1: further ado, The Moon Bug by H. P. Lovecraft Somewhere
Speaker 1: to what remote and fearsome region I know not. Dennis
Speaker 1: Barry has gone. I was with him the last night
Speaker 1: he lived among men and heard his screams when the
Speaker 1: thing came to him. But all the peasants and police
Speaker 1: and County Meath could never find him or the others,
Speaker 1: though they searched long and far. And now I shudder
Speaker 1: when I hear the frogs piping and swamps, or see
Speaker 1: the moon in lonely places. I had known Dennis Berry
Speaker 1: well in America, where he had grown rich, and had
Speaker 1: congratulated him when he bought back the old castle by
Speaker 1: the bog at Sleepy Kildairy. It was from Kilderie that
Speaker 1: his father had come, and it was there that he
Speaker 1: wished to enjoy his wealth among ancestral scenes. Men of
Speaker 1: his blood had once ruled over Kilderie and built and
Speaker 1: dwelt in the castle. But those days were very remote,
Speaker 1: so that for generations the castle had been empty and decaying.
Speaker 1: After he went to Ireland, Barry wrote me often and
Speaker 1: told me how under his care the Gray Castle was
Speaker 1: rising tower by tower to its ancient splendor, how the
Speaker 1: ivy was climbing slowly over the restored walls as it
Speaker 1: had climbed so many centuries ago, and how the peasants
Speaker 1: blessed him for bringing back the old days with his
Speaker 1: gold from over the sea. But in time there came troubles,
Speaker 1: and the peasants ceased to bless him and fled away instead,
Speaker 1: as from a doom. And then he sent a letter
Speaker 1: and asked me to visit him, for he was lonely
Speaker 1: in the castle, with no one to speak to, save
Speaker 1: the new servants and labors he had brought from the north.
Speaker 1: The bog was the cause of all these troubles, as
Speaker 1: Barry told me the night I came to the castle.
Speaker 1: I had reached Kildery in the summer sunset, as the
Speaker 1: gold of the sky lighted the green of the hills
Speaker 1: and groves and the blue of the bog, where on
Speaker 1: a far islet a strange olden ruin glistened spectral lee.
Speaker 1: That sunset was very beautiful, but peasants at Ballylow had
Speaker 1: warned me against it and said that Kilderi had become accursed,
Speaker 1: so that I almost shuddered to see the high turrets
Speaker 1: of the castle gilded with fire. Barry's motor had met
Speaker 1: me at the Ballylow station, for Kildery is off the railway.
Speaker 1: The villagers had shunned the car and the driver from
Speaker 1: the north, but had whispered to me with pale faces
Speaker 1: when they saw I was going to Kildeery. And that night,
Speaker 1: after our reunion, Barry told me why the peasants had
Speaker 1: gone from Kildrey, because Dennis Barry was to drain the
Speaker 1: great Bog. For all his love of Ireland America had
Speaker 1: not left him untouched, and he hated the beautiful wasted
Speaker 1: space where pete might be cut and the land opened up.
Speaker 1: The legends and superstitions of Kildee did not move him,
Speaker 1: and he laughed when the peasants first refused to help,
Speaker 1: and then cursed him and went away to Ballylow with
Speaker 1: their few belongings as they saw his determination in their place.
Speaker 1: He sent for laborers from the North, and when the
Speaker 1: servants left, he replaced them likewise. But it was lonely
Speaker 1: among strangers, so Barry had asked me to come, all right,
Speaker 1: So we got this guy Dennis, who uh got his
Speaker 1: old fixer up our family castle. You made some some
Speaker 1: moolah back in the States, went over to Ireland to
Speaker 1: fix it up, brought in some I guess people from
Speaker 1: Scotland to help. Friends from the North. Maybe, oh yeah, sure,
Speaker 1: I took it to be Greenland for some reason. Interesting uh,
Speaker 1: and everyone in the village. He wants to get rid
Speaker 1: of that bog and drain it. And I put in
Speaker 1: a tennis court and he's like, we could put build
Speaker 1: train tracks there something. And everyone in the village is
Speaker 1: going a big mistake. I'm out of here, so as
Speaker 1: buddy comes to visit him, uh, and that's where we are.
Speaker 1: When I heard the fears which had driven the people
Speaker 1: from Kildary, I laughed as loudly as my friend had laughed.
Speaker 1: But these fears were the vegas wildest and most absurd character.
Speaker 1: They had to do with some preposterous legend of the
Speaker 1: bog and of a grim guardian spirit that dwelt in
Speaker 1: the strange, old and ruin on the far islet I
Speaker 1: had seen in the sunset. There were tales of dancing
Speaker 1: lights and the dark of the moon, and of chill
Speaker 1: winds when the night was warm, of wraiths in white
Speaker 1: hovering over the waters. But foremost among the weird fancies,
Speaker 1: and alone in its absolute unanimity, was that of the
Speaker 1: curse awaiting him who should dare to touch or drain
Speaker 1: the vast reddish morass. Don't drain the bog. There were secrets,
Speaker 1: said the peasants which must not be uncovered, secrets that
Speaker 1: had lain hidden since the plague came to the children
Speaker 1: of Partholon. In the fabulous years beyond history. In the
Speaker 1: Book of Invaders, it is told that the sons of
Speaker 1: the Greeks were all buried at Talach, but old men
Speaker 1: and kilder. He said, one city was overlooked save by
Speaker 1: its patron, Moon Goddess said that only the wooded hills
Speaker 1: buried it. When the men of Nimed swept down from
Speaker 1: Sathia and their thirty ships. Such were the idle tales
Speaker 1: which had made the villagers leave killdeery, And when I
Speaker 1: heard them, I did not wonder what Dennis Barry had
Speaker 1: refused to listen. He had, however, a great interest in antiquities,
Speaker 1: and proposed to explore the bog thoroughly when it was drained.
Speaker 1: The white ruins on the islet he had often visited,
Speaker 1: But though their age was plainly great, and their contour
Speaker 1: very little like that of most ruins in Ireland, there
Speaker 1: were too dilapidated to tell the days of their glory.
Speaker 1: Now the work of drainage was ready to begin, and
Speaker 1: the laborers from the north were soon to strip the
Speaker 1: forbidden bog of its green moss and red heather and kill,
Speaker 1: the tiny shelf paved streamlets, and quiet blue pools fringed
Speaker 1: with brushes. After Barry had told me these things, I
Speaker 1: was very drowsy, for the travels of the day had
Speaker 1: been wearying, and my host had talked. Late into the night,
Speaker 1: a man servant shoot me into my room, which was
Speaker 1: in a remote tower, overlooking the village and the plain
Speaker 1: at the edge of the bog and the bog itself,
Speaker 1: so that I could see from my windows in the
Speaker 1: moonlight the silent roofs from which the peasants had fled
Speaker 1: now sheltered the laborers from the north, and to the
Speaker 1: parish church with his antique spire, and far out across
Speaker 1: the brooding bog, the remote olden ruin on the islet
Speaker 1: gleaming whitened spectral. Just as I dropped asleep, I fancied
Speaker 1: I heard faint sounds from the distance, sounds that were
Speaker 1: wild and half musical, and stirred me with a weird
Speaker 1: excitement which colored my dreams. But when I awaked next morning,
Speaker 1: I felt it had all been a dream, for the
Speaker 1: visions I had seen were more wonderful than any sound
Speaker 1: of wild pipes in the night. Influenced by the legends
Speaker 1: that Barry had related, my mind had, in slumber hovered
Speaker 1: around a stately city in a green valley, where marble
Speaker 1: streets and statues, villas and temples, carvings and inscriptions all
Speaker 1: spoke in certain tones the glory that was Greece. When
Speaker 1: I told this dream to Barry, we both laughed, but
Speaker 1: I laughed the louder because he was perplexed about his
Speaker 1: laborers from the North. For the sixth time. They had
Speaker 1: all overslept, waking very slowly and dazedly, and at thing
Speaker 1: as if they had not rested, although they were known
Speaker 1: to have gone early to bed the night before. So
Speaker 1: the Scottish labors are getting drunk, they're they're oversleeping, they're
Speaker 1: slacking off, and this guy's having visions huh. Yeah. And
Speaker 1: the whole thing is this, there's this legend that under
Speaker 1: the bog there's a stone city that was covered over
Speaker 1: uh with this bog ancient Greece, and that yeah, that
Speaker 1: was an ancient Greek city in Ireland. And that um,
Speaker 1: if you dig up the bog, it's gonna be big
Speaker 1: tool because the city is supernatural, say the least man.
Speaker 1: That's getting good. You're ready again? Yes? Are you ready, listener? Yes, okay.
Speaker 1: That morning and afternoon I wandered alone through the sun
Speaker 1: gilded village and talked now and then with idle laborers,
Speaker 1: for Barry was busy with the final plans for beginning
Speaker 1: his work of drainage. The laborers were not as happy
Speaker 1: as they might have been, from most of them seemed
Speaker 1: uneasy over some dream which they had had yet, which
Speaker 1: they tried in vain to remember. I told them of
Speaker 1: my dream, but they were not interested till I spoke
Speaker 1: of the weird sounds I thought I had heard. Then
Speaker 1: they looked oddly at me and said that they seemed
Speaker 1: to remember weird sounds too. In the evening, Barry dined
Speaker 1: with me and announced that he would begin the drainage
Speaker 1: in two days. I was glad, for although I disliked
Speaker 1: to see the moss and the heather, and the little
Speaker 1: streams and lakes depart, I had a growing wish to
Speaker 1: discern the ancient secrets the deep matted pete might hide.
Speaker 1: And that night my dreams of piping flutes and marble
Speaker 1: parastyles came to a sudden and disquieting end. For upon
Speaker 1: the city in the valley I saw a pestilence descend,
Speaker 1: and then a frightful avalanche of wooded slopes that covered
Speaker 1: the dead bodies in the streets, and left unburied only
Speaker 1: the temple of Artemness on the high peak, where the
Speaker 1: aged moon Priestess Cliss lay cold and silent, with a
Speaker 1: crown of ivory on her silver head. I have said
Speaker 1: that I awake suddenly and in a arm. For some
Speaker 1: time I could not tell whether I was waking or sleeping,
Speaker 1: for the sounds of flutes still rang shrilly in my ears.
Speaker 1: But when I saw on the floor the icy moonbeams
Speaker 1: and the outlines of the lattice Gothic window, I decided
Speaker 1: I must be awake, and in the castle at Kildary.
Speaker 1: Then I heard a clock from some remote landing below
Speaker 1: strike the hour of two, and I knew I was awake.
Speaker 1: It's still There came that monotonous piping from afar wild
Speaker 1: weird airs that made me think of some dance of
Speaker 1: fawns on distant manless. It would not let me sleep,
Speaker 1: and in in patience I sprang up and paced the floor.
Speaker 1: Only by chance did I go to the north window
Speaker 1: and look out upon the silent village and the plane
Speaker 1: at the edge of the ball. I had no wish
Speaker 1: to gaze abroad, for I wanted to sleep, But the
Speaker 1: flutes tormented me, and I had to see or do something.
Speaker 1: How could I have suspected the thing I was to
Speaker 1: behold there in the moonlight that flooded the spacious plane
Speaker 1: was a spectacle which no mortal, having seen it, could
Speaker 1: ever forget. To the sound of reedy pipes that echoed
Speaker 1: over the bog. They're glided silently and eerily, a mixed
Speaker 1: throng of swaying figures, reeling through such a revel as
Speaker 1: the Sicilians may have danced to Demeter in the old
Speaker 1: days under the harvest mood. Besides cy, in the wide plane,
Speaker 1: the golden moonlight, the shadowy moving forms, and above all
Speaker 1: the shrill, monotonous piping produced an effect which almost paralyzed me.
Speaker 1: Yet I noted, amidst my fear, that half of these tireless,
Speaker 1: mechanical dancers were the laborers whom I had thought asleep,
Speaker 1: whilst the other half were strange airy beings in white,
Speaker 1: half in determinate in nature, but suggesting pale, wistful naiads
Speaker 1: from the haunted fountains of the Bog. I do not
Speaker 1: know how long I gazed at the site from the
Speaker 1: lonely turret window before I dropped suddenly in a dreamless swoon,
Speaker 1: out of which the high sun of morning aroused me.
Speaker 1: Things are getting real, Phil, So he's like seeing these
Speaker 1: like weird, ghostly zombie like laborers and white creatures. And
Speaker 1: to lay off the opium. Do they have opium in Ireland? Sure?
Speaker 1: Are you? Kidne me? He needs to lay off? All right?
Speaker 1: Here we go. My first impulse on awakening was to
Speaker 1: communicate all my fears and observations to Dennis Barry. But
Speaker 1: as I saw the sunlight glowing through the latticed east window,
Speaker 1: I became sure that there was no reality in what
Speaker 1: I thought I had seen. I am given to strange phantasms,
Speaker 1: yet am never weak enough to believe in them. So
Speaker 1: on this occasion contented myself with questioning the laborers, who
Speaker 1: slept very late and recalled nothing of the previous night
Speaker 1: save misty dreams of shrill sounds. This matter of the
Speaker 1: spectral piping harassed me greatly, and I wondered if the
Speaker 1: crickets of autumn had come before their time to vex
Speaker 1: the night and haunt the visions of men. Later in
Speaker 1: the day, I watched Barry in the window, pouring over
Speaker 1: his plans for the great work which was to begin
Speaker 1: on the morrow, and for the first time felt a
Speaker 1: touch of the same kind of fear that had driven
Speaker 1: the peasants away. For some unknown reason, I dreaded the
Speaker 1: thought of disturbing the ancient bog and its sunless secrets,
Speaker 1: and pictured terrible sights lying black under the unmeasured depth
Speaker 1: of age. Old Pete. That these secrets should be brought
Speaker 1: to light seems injudicious, and I began to wish for
Speaker 1: an excuse to leave the castle in the village. I
Speaker 1: went so far as to talk casually to Bury on
Speaker 1: the subject, but did not dare continue after he gave
Speaker 1: his resounding laugh. So I was silent when the sun
Speaker 1: set fulgently over the far hills, and killed reblazed alread
Speaker 1: and gold in a flame. That seemed a portent. So
Speaker 1: he brought it up to his buddy, and he kind
Speaker 1: of got made fun of. I think right whether the
Speaker 1: events of that night were of reality or illusion, I
Speaker 1: shall never ascertain. Certainly they transcend anything we dream of
Speaker 1: in nature and the universe. Yet in no formal fashion
Speaker 1: can I explain those disappearances which were known to all men.
Speaker 1: After it was over, I retired, erie and full of dread,
Speaker 1: and for a long time could not sleep, and the
Speaker 1: uncanny silence of the tower. It was very dark, for
Speaker 1: although the sky was clear, the moon was now well
Speaker 1: in the wane, would not rise till the small hours.
Speaker 1: I thought as I lay there, of Dennis Berry, and
Speaker 1: of what would befall that bog when the day came,
Speaker 1: and found myself almost frantic with an impulse to rush
Speaker 1: out into the night, take Berry Scar and drive madly
Speaker 1: to Ballyloch, out of the menaced lands. But before my
Speaker 1: fears could crystallize in action, I'd fallen asleep and gazed
Speaker 1: in dreams upon the city in the valley, cold and dead,
Speaker 1: under a shroud of hideous shadow. Probably it was the
Speaker 1: shrill piping that awaked me. Yet that piping was not
Speaker 1: what I noticed first. When I opened my eyes. I
Speaker 1: was lying with my back to the east window, overlooking
Speaker 1: the bog where the waning moon would rise, and therefore
Speaker 1: expected to see light cast on the opposite wall before me,
Speaker 1: but I had not looked for such a sight as
Speaker 1: now appeared. Light indeed glowed on the panels ahead, but
Speaker 1: it was not any light that the moon gives. Terrible
Speaker 1: and piercing was the shad a to ruddy refulgence that
Speaker 1: streamed through the gothic window, and the whole chamber was
Speaker 1: brilliant with a splendor, intense and unearthly. My immediate actions
Speaker 1: were peculiar for such a situation, but it is only
Speaker 1: entails that a man does the dramatic and foreseen thing.
Speaker 1: Instead of looking out across the bog towards the source
Speaker 1: of the new light, I kept my eyes from the
Speaker 1: window and panic fear, and clumsily drew on my clothing
Speaker 1: with some dazed idea of escape. I remember seizing my
Speaker 1: revolver and hat, but before it was over, I had
Speaker 1: lost them both, without firing the one or donning the other.
Speaker 1: After a time, the fascination of the red radiance overcame
Speaker 1: my fright, and I crept to the east window and
Speaker 1: looked out, whilst the maddening, incessant piping wine and reverberated
Speaker 1: through the castle and over all of the village. Over
Speaker 1: the bog was a day lousee of flaring light, scarlet
Speaker 1: and sinister, and pouring from the strange olden ruin on
Speaker 1: the far islet. The aspect of that ruin I cannot describe.
Speaker 1: I must have been mad, for it seemed to rise majestic,
Speaker 1: an undecayed, splendid and column cintured, the flame, reflecting marble
Speaker 1: of its intabulature, piercing the sky like the apex of
Speaker 1: a temple on a mountaintop. Flute shrieked, and drums began
Speaker 1: to beat, and as I watched, an awe and terror,
Speaker 1: I thought I saw a dark, salted form silhouetted grotesquely
Speaker 1: against the vision of marble and the Pilgians. The effect
Speaker 1: was titanic, altogether unthinkable, and I might have stared indefinitely
Speaker 1: had not the sound of the piping seemed to grow
Speaker 1: stronger at my left. Trembling with the care oddly mixed
Speaker 1: with ecstasy, I crossed the circular room to the north window,
Speaker 1: from which I could see the village and the plane
Speaker 1: at the edge of the bog. There my eyes dilated
Speaker 1: again with a wild wonder as great as if I
Speaker 1: had not just turned from a scene beyond the pale
Speaker 1: of nature, For on the ghastly red litten plane was
Speaker 1: moving a procession of beans in such manner as none
Speaker 1: ever saw before, save in nightmares. That is not a
Speaker 1: parade of fun happening outside this window, is it. It's
Speaker 1: not alrighty, This is scary. This is getting pretty bad.
Speaker 1: Half gliding, half floating in the air, the white clad
Speaker 1: bog Graiths were slowly retreating towards the still waters and
Speaker 1: the island, ruin and fantastic formations suggesting some ancient and
Speaker 1: solemn ceremonial dance. Their waving translucent arms, guided by the
Speaker 1: detestable piping of those unseen flutes, beckoned in uncanny rhythm
Speaker 1: to a throng of lurching laborers, who followed doglike with blind, brainless,
Speaker 1: floundering steps, as if dragged by a clumsy but resistless
Speaker 1: demon will. As the Naiads neared the bog without altering
Speaker 1: their course, a new line of stumbling stragglers zig zagged
Speaker 1: drunkenly out of the castle from some door far below
Speaker 1: my window, groped sightlessly across the courtyard and through the
Speaker 1: intervening bit of village, and joined the floundering column of
Speaker 1: laborers on the plane. Despite their distance below me, I
Speaker 1: at once knew they were the servants brought from the north,
Speaker 1: where I recognized the ugly and unwieldy form of the cook,
Speaker 1: whose very absurdness had now become unutterably tragic. The flutes
Speaker 1: piped horribly, and again I heard the beating of the
Speaker 1: drums from the direction of the island ruin. Then silently
Speaker 1: and gracefully, the Naiads reached the water and melted one
Speaker 1: by one into the ancient bog, while the line of followers,
Speaker 1: never checking their speed, splashed awkwardly after them and vanished,
Speaker 1: mixed a tiny vortex of unwholesome bubbles which I could
Speaker 1: barely see in the scarlet light, And as the last
Speaker 1: pathetic straggler, the fat cook sank heavily out of sight
Speaker 1: in that sullen pool, the flutes and the drums grew silent,
Speaker 1: the blinding red rays from the ruins snapped instantaneously out,
Speaker 1: leaving the village of Doom lone and desolate, and the
Speaker 1: wan beams of a new risen moon. So basically, this
Speaker 1: guy is looking outside and everybody is following some wraiths
Speaker 1: into the bog. That's right, And there's some mad piping
Speaker 1: and drumming going on, and this guy's basically losing it. Yeah,
Speaker 1: I get the sense that is getting louder and more intense.
Speaker 1: A you're gonna take us home and taking us home,
Speaker 1: you're ready, let's do it. My condition was now one
Speaker 1: of indescribable chaos, not knowing whether I was mad or saying,
Speaker 1: sleeping or waking. I was saved only by a merciful numbness.
Speaker 1: I believe I did ridiculous things, such as offering prayers
Speaker 1: to Artemis, Latona, Demeter, Persephone, and Pluton. All that I
Speaker 1: recalled of a classic youth came to my lips. As
Speaker 1: the horrors of the situation roused my deepest superstitions. I
Speaker 1: felt that I had witnessed the death of a whole village,
Speaker 1: and knew I was alone in the castle with Dennis Barry,
Speaker 1: whose boldness had brought down a doom. As I thought
Speaker 1: of him, new terrorists convulsed me, and I fell to
Speaker 1: the floor, not fainting, but physically helpless. Then I felt
Speaker 1: the icy blast from the east window, where the moon
Speaker 1: had risen, and beg in to hear the shrieks in
Speaker 1: the castle far below me. Soon those shrieks had attained
Speaker 1: a magnitude and quality which cannot be written it, and
Speaker 1: which makes me faint as I think of them. All
Speaker 1: I can say is that they came from something I
Speaker 1: had known as a friend at some time during the
Speaker 1: shocking period. The cold wind and the screaming must have
Speaker 1: roused me, for my next impression is of racing madly
Speaker 1: through inky rooms and corridors, and out across the courtyard
Speaker 1: into the hideous night. They found me at dawn, wandering
Speaker 1: mindless near bally Low. But what unhinged me was utterly
Speaker 1: not of any of the horrors I had seen or
Speaker 1: heard before. What I muttered about as I came slowly
Speaker 1: out of the shadows was a pair of fantastic incidents
Speaker 1: which occurred in my flight, incidents of no significance, yet
Speaker 1: which haunt me unceasingly when I am alone in certain
Speaker 1: marshy places are in the moonlight. As I fled from
Speaker 1: that cursed castle along the bog's edge, I heard a
Speaker 1: new sound, common, yet unlike any I had heard before.
Speaker 1: It killed the stagnant waters, lately quite devoid of animal life,
Speaker 1: now teemed with horde of slimy, enormous frogs which piped
Speaker 1: shrilly and incessantly, and turned strangely out of keeping with
Speaker 1: their size. They glistened bloated in green and the moonbeams,
Speaker 1: and seemed to gaze up at the font of light.
Speaker 1: I followed the gaze of one very fat and ugly frog,
Speaker 1: and saw the second of the things which drove my
Speaker 1: senses away. Stretching directly from the strange olden ruin on
Speaker 1: the far islet to the waning moon. My eyes seemed
Speaker 1: to trace a beam of faint, quivering radiance, having no
Speaker 1: reflection in the waters of the ball, and upward along
Speaker 1: that pallid path, my fevered fancy pictured a thin shadow,
Speaker 1: slowly writhing, a vague, contorted shadow, struggling as if drawn
Speaker 1: by unseen demons. Crazed as I was, I saw in
Speaker 1: that awful shadow a monstrous resemblance, a nauseous, unbelievable caricature,
Speaker 1: of blasphemous effigy of him who had been Dennis Berry,
Speaker 1: whoa the end man. He can he can paint a picture, Kenny,
Speaker 1: he knows what he's doing. Boy, that is good stuff.
Speaker 1: He used the word eldredge in this once, and he's
Speaker 1: still knocked it out of the park. Yeah, and he
Speaker 1: did a good job of describing things instead of just
Speaker 1: saying it cannot be described very creepy. Well done, sir,
Speaker 1: Well done, sir. So part one is over, so let's
Speaker 1: take a break and come back and read story number
Speaker 1: two for Halloween Spectacular. Chuck, I just want to point out,
Speaker 1: did you notice the awesome Halloween jingle made for us,
Speaker 1: specifically by our composer friends on begin Pretty awesome? Agreed,
Speaker 1: really helps set the mood. Yeah, thanks a lot, John,
Speaker 1: and Jerry didn't have to do it. She's delighted about.
Speaker 1: Way to go, Jerry. All right. The second story is
Speaker 1: actually contemporary, which is unusual for us, But um, I
Speaker 1: email the author because you can just do that these days,
Speaker 1: and he said, yeah, read it. That's great. That's pretty
Speaker 1: nice of them. So his name is Peter the Peter D. Niverville.
Speaker 1: It's a great name, and the story is called The
Speaker 1: Petting Zoo, and I liked it because it tied in
Speaker 1: with our Spiders episode and it is quite creepy. It's
Speaker 1: creep and we're gonna actually have a character voice because
Speaker 1: we have to do voices in this one. I was
Speaker 1: wondering if you're gonna want to do that. Yeah, man,
Speaker 1: you're gonna play Johnson, I'll play the old man. Yes,
Speaker 1: I got that. And uh, we're gonna have um our
Speaker 1: video Ninja for stuff. Mom never told you Annie he
Speaker 1: was an actor to do the old lady to do
Speaker 1: old man. I can't remember his name, the old man's wife.
Speaker 1: So yes, yeah, so we need to thank Annie for that.
Speaker 1: Um here we go with the petting Zoo. At first,
Speaker 1: Johnson thought it was a joke. Speeding down the country road,
Speaker 1: the crude sign was only a blur, but it was
Speaker 1: that one word, slowing down. He swung the car onto
Speaker 1: the paved shoulder. In the rear view mirror, he could
Speaker 1: see it clearly. The sign was tacked to a stick
Speaker 1: that was stuck in the ground just beyond the paved shoulder.
Speaker 1: Shifting the car into reverse, Johnson jim the accelerator down.
Speaker 1: The tires squealed, and loose gravel flew As he tore
Speaker 1: back up the road screeched into a halt. Johnson stared
Speaker 1: at the faded handwriting Ellsworth's famous spider petting Zoo five
Speaker 1: miles next right. It's spiders fascinated Johnson. One summer when
Speaker 1: he was eight, a large golden black spider had taken
Speaker 1: up residence underneath the shingles by the back door. Every morning,
Speaker 1: Johnson would gather up ants in a jar from a
Speaker 1: nest and the scrubby woods behind his house. One by one,
Speaker 1: he would drop the wriggling insects into the web with
Speaker 1: lightning speed. The spider would spring from her hiding place
Speaker 1: and race towards the victim, sinking her fangs into the ant.
Speaker 1: She would retreat, waiting for the poison to take effect.
Speaker 1: When the aunt slowly stopped struggling, she would climb back
Speaker 1: down and delicately wrap her prey in a white shroud.
Speaker 1: This continued until one day his mother caught him. What
Speaker 1: a cruel little boy you are, she scolded between clenched
Speaker 1: teeth as she pummeled his backside. He could still feel
Speaker 1: the shame of being spanked. Years later, In a rare
Speaker 1: moment of remorse, Johnson wondered what it was like for
Speaker 1: the ant, trapped helpless waiting for the spider to return.
Speaker 1: Did they know fear or horror? Or was that something
Speaker 1: only humans experienced. The insect brain was too small, he
Speaker 1: told himself, or so he hoped. Five miles, thought Johnson.
Speaker 1: This side trip might only add another half hour or
Speaker 1: so to his journey. He would still have time once
Speaker 1: he got to his motel to have a shower. The
Speaker 1: dinner meeting with a buyer from the supermarket Jane wasn't
Speaker 1: until six o'clock, and it was only four now. Coasting forward,
Speaker 1: Johnson scanned the road looking for the turn off. About
Speaker 1: one hundred yards ahead, he saw a lane that intersected
Speaker 1: with the highway. Flicking on his turn signally, shot a
Speaker 1: quick glance at his watch. If I don't find it
Speaker 1: in fifteen minutes, he promised himself, I'll turn back. Accelerating smoothly,
Speaker 1: he turned onto a well paved secondary road with deep
Speaker 1: ditches on either side. Punching the buttons on the CD player,
Speaker 1: he stretched his arms, settling back into the soft leather
Speaker 1: seat As a throbbing beat of the music filled his car.
Speaker 1: Is mood lightened an unexpected adventure in an otherwise boring day.
Speaker 1: Johnson hated his job, endless meetings with bad food and
Speaker 1: balding byres, too many drinks, and too many hangovers. He
Speaker 1: was packing on the pounds too. I have to get
Speaker 1: back to the gym, he reminded himself. The only redeeming
Speaker 1: feature of his job was that he was good at it.
Speaker 1: Top sails ripped for the last three years. I should
Speaker 1: have been an actor, he told himself. Instead, I'm selling
Speaker 1: toilet paper and tampons to these turkeys. As the needle
Speaker 1: on the spitometer crept higher and higher than neatly kept
Speaker 1: fields and freshly painted houses became a blur. Mile after
Speaker 1: miles slipped by, Johnson felt that he and the car
Speaker 1: had become one, soaring like a hawk on a summer breeze.
Speaker 1: But his mood soon soured. The condition of the road deteriorated.
Speaker 1: Asphalt gave way to chip seal, which gave way to
Speaker 1: gravel and finally ended up his dirt. Johnson jumped on
Speaker 1: the brakes when a huge pothole emerged in the center
Speaker 1: of the road, cursing the delay, checked his watch again.
Speaker 1: It was almost five. The long drive down the country
Speaker 1: road had doled his sense of time. I'd better turn around,
Speaker 1: he cautioned himself, as he studied the road ahead, looking
Speaker 1: for a safe place to make a U turn, And
Speaker 1: he saw it, an old farmhouse stepped back from the road.
Speaker 1: If it hadn't been for the pothole, he would have
Speaker 1: missed it completely. By the mailbox, a freshly painted sign
Speaker 1: read Ellsworth's famous spider petting Zoo open year round, all
Speaker 1: visitors welcomed. This must be the place, he concluded. Carefully
Speaker 1: turning up the heavily redded lane, Johnson wondered what he
Speaker 1: would find. Perhaps one of the locals playing a joke
Speaker 1: on the tourists, he mused. Tall grass slapped at the
Speaker 1: bottom of the car, and rusted barbed wire clung to
Speaker 1: rotted posts that ran alongside the lane. In the untilled fields,
Speaker 1: scrubby bushes had sprung up like mushrooms. Johnson tried to
Speaker 1: imagine what the farm looked like in better days, but
Speaker 1: it was impossible. When he reached the top of the hill,
Speaker 1: the farmhouse looked even more Decrepit blistered paint hung from
Speaker 1: the wooden shingles, and there was a disturbing sag in
Speaker 1: the middle of the roof. But once it had been
Speaker 1: the side garden was now occupied by tall thistles and
Speaker 1: a massive tangled timbers, indicating the former site of the barn.
Speaker 1: Except for the glass still being intact in the windows,
Speaker 1: the house looked abandoned. Where is everybody? Thought Johnson in
Speaker 1: response to his question, an old woman dressed in a
Speaker 1: black skirt and a woolen sweater stepped out the side door.
Speaker 1: It's never a good sign by the way she was
Speaker 1: gnarled and withered, like the lone apple tree that stood
Speaker 1: in the yard. Johnson guests, she must have been at
Speaker 1: least seventy, maybe even eighty years old. She spat, turning
Speaker 1: off the radio and rolling down the car window. He replied,
Speaker 1: is this the petting zoo? That's what the sign says,
Speaker 1: don't it. Ignoring her rudeness, Johnson continued, are you open,
Speaker 1: I'll get Jake Key out back chopping wood. He watched
Speaker 1: as she shuffled down a dirt path and disappeared around
Speaker 1: the corner of the house. Charming, thought Johnson. Opening the
Speaker 1: car door, he stepped out. Despite the poverty, the farm
Speaker 1: had a certain rustic appeal, which reminded him of the
Speaker 1: house that he grew up in in the country. But
Speaker 1: there was something odd, something missing. Where are the flies?
Speaker 1: Thought Johnson. On most farms, the low buzz of the
Speaker 1: black swarms was constant, but here there was none. Except
Speaker 1: for the moaning of the wind. It was quiet. Perhaps
Speaker 1: it was the lack of animals, he thought, or maybe
Speaker 1: it was the stiff breeze at the top of the
Speaker 1: hill that kept them at bay. Glancing at his watch,
Speaker 1: he frowned. It was after five o'clock. If he did
Speaker 1: not get back on the road soon, he would be
Speaker 1: late for his appointment. Either that or skip his shower
Speaker 1: after driving all day, Johnson did not want to skip
Speaker 1: the soothing ritual. Taking one last look around, he reached
Speaker 1: for the handle of the car door. Just then the
Speaker 1: old woman reappeared, and behind her and even more wizened
Speaker 1: up old man wearing faded blue overalls and a nicotine
Speaker 1: stained undershirt. Stopping at the corner of the house, the
Speaker 1: old man spat out a long jet of chewing tobacco
Speaker 1: onto the ground. Wiping his mouth with the back of
Speaker 1: his hand. He paused momentarily to study Johnson. Speaking to
Speaker 1: the old woman, he said in a low tone, thought,
Speaker 1: I heard a car come up. Wants to see your spatters,
Speaker 1: she said, before she turned away and went back to
Speaker 1: the farmhouse, letting the screen door slam behind her. You
Speaker 1: want to see my spiders, young fellow. Sure, if you're
Speaker 1: open how much? Looking over Johnson's luxury car, he scratched
Speaker 1: his ruddy face and said fifty, that's ridiculous. Strugging his shoulders,
Speaker 1: the old man said, take it or leave it. I
Speaker 1: got work to do, and then he spat out another
Speaker 1: long jet of chewing tobacco and turned to go So
Speaker 1: this guy, he's a sales chimp. Yeah, he's the part
Speaker 1: I was born to play. Apparently I'm nailing it. He's
Speaker 1: he's traveling in his luxury car. He's a spider dude
Speaker 1: because he's to torture ants in a spider webs. Not
Speaker 1: that he has super powers bestowed to him by a
Speaker 1: radioactive spider, No, but it's he's made the big mistake
Speaker 1: of going to see this redneck spider farm. Yeah, spinning,
Speaker 1: chewing tobacco. Are you talking to a stranger indicates the
Speaker 1: presence of a redneck? Yeah, so did the overalls. Yeah alright,
Speaker 1: so back to the petting zoo. I can't leave now
Speaker 1: after coming all this way, thought Johnson. Taking another quick
Speaker 1: glance at his watch, he said, irritably, alright, alright, but
Speaker 1: this better be good. See that sounds just like me,
Speaker 1: it does. The old man smirked and licked his lips
Speaker 1: as Johnson whipped out a crisp fifty dollar bill from
Speaker 1: his wallet. Johnson did not like the old man's greedy
Speaker 1: look and hastily shoved his wallet back in his pants pocket. Thanks,
Speaker 1: said the old man, sarcastically, snatching the bill from Johnson's hand,
Speaker 1: looking it over carefully, he folded it up neatly, stuck
Speaker 1: it in his pocket, and said, follow me. The old
Speaker 1: man led Johnson down an overgrown path to a shed
Speaker 1: at the back of the farmhouse. Inside, the dim glow
Speaker 1: of fluorescent tubes highlighted the dozen plywood shelves that ran
Speaker 1: along the walls. In contrast to the rest of the farm,
Speaker 1: the shed was neat, almost antiseptic in appearance. Sitting on
Speaker 1: each shelf was a glass terrarium filled with twigs and rocks.
Speaker 1: In the case closest to Johnson, a small garden spider
Speaker 1: was spinning a web in the corner. That's an orb spider,
Speaker 1: said the old man, said Johnson, annoyed by the interruption.
Speaker 1: You know spiders a bit, replied Johnson. I used to
Speaker 1: study them when I was a kid. I bet you're
Speaker 1: the type that like defeat him. Yeah, catch bugs, drop
Speaker 1: him in. See what happens? Fun, ain't it? Suddenly Johnson
Speaker 1: was uncomfortable. How did he guess my secret, he wondered.
Speaker 1: Johnson felt the warm rush of blood to his neck
Speaker 1: and ears as he started to blush. No need to
Speaker 1: be a shame, young fellow. All kids do it. It's natural.
Speaker 1: Trying to change the topic, Johnson asked, you you've been
Speaker 1: at this long keeping spiders. Yeah, I've been at it
Speaker 1: a while. Most folks scared of spiders. Not me. Me
Speaker 1: and spider Gilon feel good. Johnson turned back to watch
Speaker 1: a large black spider in another case sucking up the
Speaker 1: half digested slurry of its latest victim. Trying to be polite,
Speaker 1: Johnson asked, but you don't give many visitors here, being
Speaker 1: so far from the highway. Donate him, said the old man.
Speaker 1: This is just a sideline. Pausing for effect, he added,
Speaker 1: I breed him. Johnson looked puzzled for the college, explained
Speaker 1: the old man. They use him for research. Does it
Speaker 1: pay well? Good enough? Uh? They don't know squat about spiders,
Speaker 1: said the old man, spinning on the floor. Johnson looked
Speaker 1: down and saw that a streak of the sticky black
Speaker 1: tobacco had splashed on his shoes. I've been doing research
Speaker 1: on my own, said the old man proudly. Spatters are
Speaker 1: just like any other creator. Cows, horses, dogs, They're all
Speaker 1: the same breed. The best with the best, and you
Speaker 1: get the best or the The old man's voice trailed
Speaker 1: off as he started to laugh. There was something about
Speaker 1: his tone that made Johnson uneasy. You want to see
Speaker 1: him a prize winner. Johnson looked around. Oh, she ain't here.
Speaker 1: I keep her in the barn. She kind of makes
Speaker 1: he's created nervous. I can't say he's blames him. He
Speaker 1: won't see her. The way the old man said it,
Speaker 1: the question sounded more like a challenge. Johnson hesitated. He
Speaker 1: wanted to say no, but he could not let the
Speaker 1: old man see that he was afraid. Sure, answered Johnson,
Speaker 1: What could it be, he asked himself, A tarantula. With
Speaker 1: the old man in front, they went down a lesser
Speaker 1: used path to a small barn behind a stand of
Speaker 1: trees that made it invisible from the farmhouse. A shiny
Speaker 1: new lock on a rusted hask yielded to the old
Speaker 1: man's key. I don't like kids messing with the stuff.
Speaker 1: The ancient wooden door swung open. Inside it was pitch black.
Speaker 1: Johnson hesitated, what was it that made him apprehensive? His
Speaker 1: mouth felt dry and he tried to swallow. Going in
Speaker 1: to him the old man as he shoved Johnson through
Speaker 1: the door, Stumbling on a raised sill, Johnson fell to
Speaker 1: one knee, ripping his pants. Damn it, he cursed. He's
Speaker 1: a light switch ahead, are you, the old man reassured him. Jase,
Speaker 1: pull the string. The stench of moldy hay made Johnson gag.
Speaker 1: Where is it the spider, he called out. He's in
Speaker 1: the back. He can't miss her. Where is the light?
Speaker 1: Right and funny? Can't you see it? Mocked the old man.
Speaker 1: Johnson stretched out his hand. At first he could not
Speaker 1: feel anything. Then, slowly groping the air in, he caught
Speaker 1: hold of it. Johnson's heart leapt in relief. But there
Speaker 1: was something strange. The line didn't feel like a string.
Speaker 1: It was sticky. Like pulling the line, Johnson knew he
Speaker 1: had made a mistake. Something rustled in the rafters above him,
Speaker 1: and bits of straw floated down. Johnson bolted for the opening.
Speaker 1: Enjoy yourself, cackled the old man as he slammed the door.
Speaker 1: Unlocked it. Let me out, Let me out, shouted Johnson.
Speaker 1: Pounding on the door. Let me out you a buzzard,
Speaker 1: But it was no use. The dried out wooden door
Speaker 1: was like iron. Pausing to catch his breath, his fist throbbing,
Speaker 1: Johnson looked around slowly, his eyes grew accustomed to the dark,
Speaker 1: but appeared to be a black chasm, was, in fact
Speaker 1: the side entrance to the barn. There must be another
Speaker 1: way out, he thought, But where in the gloom He
Speaker 1: could see that beyond the entryway there was a large
Speaker 1: open space, and beyond that a boarded up window through
Speaker 1: which thin shafts of sunlight streamed. Great, all I have
Speaker 1: to do is cross the barn, pull off one or
Speaker 1: two of those boards, and climb out, thought Johnson. Then
Speaker 1: I'll show that old man fifty bucks. He'll wish i'd
Speaker 1: never stopped. Then he heard another rustle overhead, and straw
Speaker 1: floated down. Who is it? Who's there? He called out.
Speaker 1: I'll bet it's that old man, thought Johnson. He thinks
Speaker 1: he's gonna scare me. Sure you just keep that up,
Speaker 1: old man, Johnson called out again. Let's see how much
Speaker 1: laughing you do when I bashed your face in Again,
Speaker 1: that's just totally me. But first, I've got to get
Speaker 1: to that window. Be careful, he cautioned himself. This barn
Speaker 1: must be full of junk. I don't want to fall
Speaker 1: down and get hurt. Despite the heat and the bar
Speaker 1: and he shivered, licking the sweat off his upper lips.
Speaker 1: Johnson slowly picked his way across the wide wooden plank
Speaker 1: barn floor, being careful not to trip. Shadows of old
Speaker 1: machinery and tools loomed around him. A leather harness that
Speaker 1: hung from the wall looked like a hangman's noose. There
Speaker 1: was a peculiar smell too. It reminded him of a
Speaker 1: package of chicken that he once left in the trunk
Speaker 1: of his car in a hot summer day. It was
Speaker 1: the sickly sweet scent of rotten meat. Oh gross, muttered Johnson.
Speaker 1: There's a dead animal in here. In less than a minute,
Speaker 1: he had crossed the barn and was standing in front
Speaker 1: of the boarded up window blocking his exit, where three
Speaker 1: boards nailed haphazardly into the frame. Either the old man
Speaker 1: was too weak or too lazy to drive them all
Speaker 1: the way in, concluded Johnson. I can probably pull them
Speaker 1: off with my bare hands. He smiled triumphantly. All right,
Speaker 1: So Johnson has been locked in the barn. It smells
Speaker 1: like chicken. It smells like rotting chicken. Uh, there's a
Speaker 1: leather harness hanging from the wall. So I think I'd
Speaker 1: be glad at this point that the old man left.
Speaker 1: At least I would think there would be some sort
Speaker 1: of deliverance like thing going on here. Yeah, I mean
Speaker 1: he shoved him. The guys ripped his jeans. Sure there
Speaker 1: was like that was hostile. It was very hostile. All right,
Speaker 1: here we go. The first board was half rotted and
Speaker 1: fell apart in his hands. Light streamed in as it
Speaker 1: came away from the frame. Then he shifted his attention
Speaker 1: to the second one, the board in the middle. If
Speaker 1: he could get this one off, he could easily climb out.
Speaker 1: But this board wouldn't be so easy. It was like
Speaker 1: the old door of the barn, dried out and tough
Speaker 1: as steel. Gripping the board with both hands, he began
Speaker 1: pulling the nails, squealed in protest, and the board started
Speaker 1: to move, only a little bit. Grunted Johnson, the thought
Speaker 1: of throttling old man excited him just a bit further.
Speaker 1: Another halp, and he could almost feel his fingers closing
Speaker 1: around the old Man's scrawn the neck, the eyes bulging,
Speaker 1: the tongue sticking out another half inch. Then it stopped. Desperately,
Speaker 1: Johnson yanked at the board, but it was no use.
Speaker 1: It would not yield. I need more leverage, he said
Speaker 1: to himself and out loud. Balancing on one foot, he
Speaker 1: braced his other against the window frame and started pulling again.
Speaker 1: The muscles in his forearms and back bulged. Was restrained
Speaker 1: against the board. Sweat rolled down his forehead and into
Speaker 1: his eyes. Come on, he pleaded with the wood, Come on.
Speaker 1: In this frustration, Johnson did not hear the soft tap
Speaker 1: tap tap on the floor behind him, tap tap tap,
Speaker 1: like a blind man with his cane, tap tap tap.
Speaker 1: Then it was too late. It struck the force of
Speaker 1: the attack. Ramdom faced first against the wall, knocking the
Speaker 1: wind out of him. Warm blood trickled from his nose
Speaker 1: and ran down his cheek. What was that ring around?
Speaker 1: Slowly he could see in the light from the window
Speaker 1: his attacker was crouched inside an empty stall along the
Speaker 1: opposite wall, the legs tints ready to spring. It was
Speaker 1: a spider, no doubt, one of the old Man's experiments
Speaker 1: that this was no ordinary spider. It was huge, about
Speaker 1: the size of a pit bowl, with legs that extended
Speaker 1: out three or four feet on either side. Its eyes
Speaker 1: stared coldly at him. Johnson did a quick tally of
Speaker 1: his injuries. Except for his bloody knows, he was unharmed.
Speaker 1: Perhaps the large size of the creature made it difficult
Speaker 1: for its a mountain attack, he conjectured. Possibly it did
Speaker 1: not even recognize him as prey. I'm sure that's it.
Speaker 1: Spiders normally eat moths and insects, he reminded himself, not
Speaker 1: human beings. When he was a kid, Johnson liked to
Speaker 1: throw twigs into a web just to see the spider's reaction. Invariably,
Speaker 1: after pouncing on the object, the spider would pluck it
Speaker 1: out of the web, turn it over, and drop it
Speaker 1: on the ground. Johnson hopped, the spider would show the
Speaker 1: same lack of interest from its vantage point at the
Speaker 1: other end of the bar, and the creature seemed puzzled,
Speaker 1: unsure of itself. Spiders are cautious, he told himself. It's
Speaker 1: waiting for me to make the next move. Although every
Speaker 1: fiber in his body screamed to run, his brain told
Speaker 1: him to stay still. The spider was too big and
Speaker 1: too fast the outrun. You need a weapon, he told himself.
Speaker 1: Quickly looking about, he saw the rotten board from the
Speaker 1: window lying at his feet. It was about two ft long,
Speaker 1: with a jagged point at one end. It'll have to
Speaker 1: do slowly. He bent down to pick it up. The
Speaker 1: spider crouched low like a sprinter, ready to strike again.
Speaker 1: Johnson froze his fingers only inches from the board. Easy girl,
Speaker 1: he whispered, softly. Easy. The spider relaxed, but not completely deliberately.
Speaker 1: It began to move forward, cat tat, tat. Johnson was
Speaker 1: amazed by the creature's grace, like a ballerina tiptoeing in
Speaker 1: from the darkened wings of a theater. It was a
Speaker 1: marvel of beauty and design. The body, covered by fine
Speaker 1: gray hair, had the look of velvet, while the eight
Speaker 1: legs extended from the thorax provided speed and balance. As
Speaker 1: it approached Johnson, the spider carefully extended one four leg
Speaker 1: toward him. Johnson quickly knocked it away with his hand.
Speaker 1: The creature stopped and cocked its plate sized head to
Speaker 1: one side. The eight eyes looked like black fists. Then
Speaker 1: the leg came forward again. At the tip, Johnson could
Speaker 1: see the spikelike claw for catching prey. It touched his
Speaker 1: left shoulder through his jacket. He could feel the sharp
Speaker 1: point digging into his skin. Johnson winced and stepped backwards
Speaker 1: to the wall, but there was no place to go. Slowly,
Speaker 1: the other four leg came forward. Johnson recoil, trying to
Speaker 1: ward off the attack with his free arm, but their
Speaker 1: creature was too strong. It brushed his arm aside as
Speaker 1: if there were a piece of lint, and planted a
Speaker 1: second claw into his other shirts. Johnson cried out, help, help,
Speaker 1: Then the spider reared up on its hind legs, forcing
Speaker 1: Johnson to his knee. For a brief moment, he and
Speaker 1: the creature looked into each other's eyes. It was almost
Speaker 1: like love. Then he saw the six inch fangs that
Speaker 1: extended from the head drops A venom gleamed in the
Speaker 1: half light. He watched in fascination as the cruel daggers
Speaker 1: arched high over him. Then he screamed as they plunged
Speaker 1: deeply into his chest. Instantly, white hot pain ripped through
Speaker 1: his body. Then it was gone. The spider had retreated
Speaker 1: back to the skull. Johnson knew that he had only
Speaker 1: a minute or two before the poison paralyzed him. This
Speaker 1: is it, he said to himself, my only chance. Ignoring
Speaker 1: his wounds, Johnson turned back to the window. Grabbing at
Speaker 1: the board, he yanked and pulled to no avail. Already
Speaker 1: the venom was having its effect. His hands were numb
Speaker 1: and his arms felt like lead. Gasping for air, he
Speaker 1: threw himself at the boards again and again, but it
Speaker 1: was no use. He was beaten. Great sob shook his
Speaker 1: body as he slumped to the floor. This can't be
Speaker 1: happening to me, he protested. It's ridiculous. It is ridiculous. Right,
Speaker 1: he's attacked by a spire the size of a pit pull.
Speaker 1: I would find that hard to believe. Well, that's why
Speaker 1: you're playing, Johnson thanks. Looking back at the spider, he
Speaker 1: could see that had still not moved. What is she
Speaker 1: waiting for, he wondered, Why did she finish me off?
Speaker 1: He soon had his answer. Shimmering like a great overcoat,
Speaker 1: there was something on the spider's back. It moved and undulated,
Speaker 1: like a small wave, flowing back and forth. Then a
Speaker 1: piece of the wave pulled away and dropped to the floor.
Speaker 1: It was another spider, only a lot smaller, about the
Speaker 1: size of a rat. Johnson recalled that some spiders carry
Speaker 1: their young in their backs. Horrified, he realized that he
Speaker 1: had stumbled into their nursery and it was feeding down.
Speaker 1: Another one dropped to the floor, and then another. Soon
Speaker 1: there was a long line of spiders slowly crawling towards him.
Speaker 1: Through fading eyesight, he saw the first one reached his
Speaker 1: foot pinitively, its four leg probe the air until it
Speaker 1: found his leg and added it. It was light and delicate,
Speaker 1: like the touch of a child. Johnson opened his mouth
Speaker 1: to screen it. My sound came. The last thing Johnson
Speaker 1: saw before he lost consciousness was a spider tearing a
Speaker 1: piece of flesh from the back of his hands. And
Speaker 1: it's curtains for Johnson. Yeah, no more lines for me.
Speaker 1: Baby spiders. That's the size of rats. That's really alpful.
Speaker 1: Back at the farmhouse, the old man picked up the
Speaker 1: whiskey bottle from the kitchen table, poured himself another drink,
Speaker 1: and plopped down on the ancient recliner. How long it take,
Speaker 1: Jake asked the old woman. Not long, he grunted. They
Speaker 1: ain't it since Sunday, get sign I chrat mo folks
Speaker 1: now the signs okay? Anyway, we don't need a crowd,
Speaker 1: said the old man, taking a long, hard swallow. What
Speaker 1: you're going to do with his car, she asked, standing
Speaker 1: at the window admiring the now ownerless vehicle. I hear
Speaker 1: young Dougal needs one for running moon Sean. Willing to
Speaker 1: pay good price too, said the old man. Won't he asked? Questions,
Speaker 1: wondered the old woman, pouring a drink and easing herself
Speaker 1: down onto a dusty couch. Nah, he don't care, snickered
Speaker 1: the old man. I talked to him tomorrow. Meanwhile, pass
Speaker 1: me that remote. Let's see what's on the TV. Boom
Speaker 1: comes down. The whole thing was an indictment and American's
Speaker 1: addiction to television. I think you're right, and America's propensity
Speaker 1: to to shun farm people and a grow giant spiders.
Speaker 1: That's right, man, Everything was represented. It's basically like mom
Speaker 1: apple Pie in baseball team. That's right, all right, that's
Speaker 1: a good one. Good job Johnson, Good job, Peter. I
Speaker 1: don't know what is an old man's name? Is no
Speaker 1: Peter the author, the guy who actually wrote absolutely Yeah,
Speaker 1: great job. And thanks to Annie for providing the counterpart
Speaker 1: to clead us a slight John joke. Thanks to you
Speaker 1: for your redneck man, my spirited redneck. Yeah, all right,
Speaker 1: you got anything else? I think that's pretty great. I
Speaker 1: do have one thing else, all right. Happy Halloween, everybody,
Speaker 1: Happy Halloween. We'll see you next year. For more on
Speaker 1: this and thousands of other topics, visit how stuff works
Speaker 1: dot com.