October 19, 2021 • 22 mins
A warm welcome to Direbrooke and a mother’s fury.
Starring Kathy Najimy, Bethany Anne Lind, and Robin Bloodworth. Written by Nicholas Tecosky.
–––
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
M thirteen days of Halloween is from grim and mild
blumhouse and I heeart. Three D audio headphones recommended. Listener
discretion advised. Kay h they're searching for something out there
(00:51):
by the island. They'll probably never find it. Nothing comes
out of these waters once it's gone in. Well, almost nothing.
Where where am I h you've got quite the cut
(01:18):
on your forehead. Well, how did that happen? I don't know.
How did you get here? All right, I don't know.
I don't know anything. Okay. Well, what's the last thing
(01:41):
that you remember? Nothing, mm HMM, poor girl, crack on
the skull must have knocked at you. Things loose. Yeah,
take my hand, let's get you to the doctor. Alright, steady, steady, steady,
(02:02):
steady day. All right, good. How do you feel? Fine, stiff,
a little bit of headache. Well, we'll take it easy
as we go. You follow me? MM HMM. And Dire Brook.
(02:26):
To answer your question, I'm sorry, you asked where you were.
This is the township of dire brook. Oh, we were
once a prosperous fishing village and then we were famous,
famous for producing parts for merchant ships. But that was
(02:48):
a long time ago, though. We tried our hand at
the tourism trade. Voters called US bleak and I'm sorry.
Who Are you? Of course, I'm so sorry. And the
people here call me mother. Mother, it's a strange thing
(03:10):
to be called, I know, but I've grown to enjoy it.
It feels warm, doesn't it, and this world could use warm,
especially this corner of the world. I've grown so accustomed
to the nickname I sometimes quite forget what I was
called beforehand. Mother, it just feels natural, doesn't it? Yes,
(03:38):
are you cold? No, sort of numb. Well, we should
find you a coat. Nonetheless, these winds get brutal this
time of year. Oh what look Jonathan, who the fisherman
up there? His family has been here since the dawn
(04:00):
of dire brook. You have something to warm you, Surely, Jonathan? Hello, come,
we'll meet him by his boat. This used to be
a bustling place, this marina now of total disrepair, a
store ten years back, reduced to one working dog, and
(04:23):
only Jonathan uses it anymore, and not to fish. Hello, mother,
who's this fool girl? My guest? Well, she's dripping wet.
She'll not last long in this wind dressed like that
and old soggy to boot. That's a nasty Gash you've
got on your head there. I'll hang on then. This
(04:50):
old jacket is dusty and moth eaten, but it'll do
the job. Go on, take it, put it on. Thank you.
How are you there? Mother? Well enough, Jonathan, and you know,
about the same as yesterday. With apologies, still, what happened
(05:12):
yesterday the same thing as happens every other day. Girl,
I don't understand. Well, girl, here everything returns to the sea.
Not so many years ago this was a bustling little marina.
Men made their living here. It was hard, dangerous, backbreaking Labor,
(05:34):
but the sea here was generous to us, and so
as long as we weren't afraid to put in the time,
we could keep a solid roof over our heads and
keep our families bellies full. My father fished, and his
father before Him God only knows how far back the
salt in the bloodlines ago. But with the salt come
(05:56):
the stories. You've probably heard some of them before, or
the famous ones. Mermaids and sirens and Kraken's stories, passed
from sailor to sailor as they travel across the globe,
stories which eventually make their way inland from the ports.
My grandfather used to put me to bed with them,
(06:17):
the stories his gruff voice would recall six headed sea
monsters and ghosts, ships and all sorts of fantastic things
that lit up my imagination, all but assuring that I'd
follow the family tradition of making my living trolling the tides.
His favorite, though, and mine by default, was the story
(06:40):
of the mortal fish, long with smooth, silvery scales and
a streak of Kelly Green down its back. It was
beautiful to behold and just as elusive. Story was. If
you caught a mortal fish, any wish you made would
come true before the next sunrise, so long as you
(07:03):
released it back to the sea. And he wasn't just
repeating rumors. He said that when he was a younger man,
he'd caught one and wished for his true love, and
wouldn't you know it, he met my grandmother the very
next day of the market. He was a believer, my grandfather,
as our most who live here, we keep these stories
(07:27):
with us, repeat them to ourselves during the long, hard
days trolling the father of the seas tide. And it
was just such a story that was running through my
own head, many years after the old man had died.
As I mended nets one early morning, the full moon
high in the sky and a line in the water
(07:47):
to perhaps catch breakfast, my mind was drifting, dreaming of mermaids.
When there is a tallet on the line, gentle barely perceptible,
but when you make your living fishing, become a tuned
to these sorts of things, gentle nudges letting you know
you'll eat. That day, when I reeled it in, there
(08:11):
on the hook was the most beautiful fish I'd ever
pulled out of the water. It was just as my
grandfather had described, its sleek silver, the greyest green streak
running down its back and, what's more, its eyes seemed
to reflect the Dusky Pre dawn light with some sort
of intelligence. I don't know how else to describe it.
(08:37):
The fish knew that I knew him what he was,
the mortal fish. Now, I was never accused, even in
my youth, of being a true believer in anything, but
I wasn't going to eat this beautiful creature, nor was
I going to let an opportunity pass just in case
(08:58):
the old man had been right. I mean even I
am not above a little superstition, and so I made
the same wish my grandfather had before me. Being a romantic,
I wished for her great love and I tossed the
fish back into the water. I hadn't made it back
(09:19):
to the dark when I heard the cries. There she was,
off my starboard bow, thrashing in the water as if
tangled in a net. Without thought, I turned the boat
and pulled her in. If I told you she was beautiful,
it would be a lie by omission. The truth is
(09:39):
I'd never seen beauty before I laid eyes on her.
Her hair was a silvery type of blonde, like moonlight,
her eyes Kelly Green, even dressed in tattered rags and
soaked to the bone she was. I asked what brought
her so far out and she said the tide. So
(10:02):
I asked her name and she told it to me.
It's a name I'll not repeat now, a name that
will never cross these lips again, but at that moment
I was hopelessly smitten. She came home with me that
(10:24):
day and she stayed. She was strange and magical and mysterious.
She wouldn't tell me about her past, wouldn't talk about
her family, only the future, our future, most of all
the child that she wanted for us to have. She
(10:44):
could describe him in great detail. Strong arms and a
stout trump like his pop, silver haired and green eyed
like his mother, a dreamer and a fighter. I could
see him in my mind's eye when she spoke and
I was just so happy, entranced, I suppose, enchanted. We
(11:10):
were soon married. She wore my grandmother's silver ring. It
was only fitting, and soon thereafter, on another night with
a full moon high and sky, she bore me that child.
He was beautiful as well, small and delicate, but with
(11:30):
a terrible sort of weight to him, as if he'd
sink like a stone in the water, but with mother's
hair and piercing green eyes. We named him Edward, after
my father, though I suspect that she whispered another name
to him as he slept in his bassinet. I felt complete.
(11:54):
I had a family. Well, that should be the end
of the tail, a happy dream Made Real, but the
sea is fickle with her gifts. Over the coming weeks,
my wife became restless, spoke of returning home to her father,
spoke of bringing Edward with her. I told her I'd
(12:19):
happily bring her home if she'd just let me know
where home was for her, but she wouldn't meet my
eye and would only become sour faced and call me
a stupid brute. It went on like this for weeks
after Edward arrived. I thought perhaps it was the sadness
(12:40):
that sometimes comes after a woman gives birth. You know
that well. I'm no expert on these things, but I
know when something has gone too far, and one night,
the night of the next full moon, it did. I
don't know what woke me, the squeak of the back
(13:02):
door or wind blowing up the path from the beach
into the bedroom, but I knew at once that she
was gone. The bassinet beside the bed already cold and empty.
I jumped out of the bed and ran, and though
I was barefooting in my skippies, I didn't feel any
of the cold, at least not physically, as I followed
(13:24):
my instincts down the rocky path to the shore, where
I found her just in time as she walked into
the frigid ocean, my boy in her arms. Without a
second thought, I had followed her into the water, grabbing
her shoulder, trying to pull her back toward the shore.
And she turned. Her face was not hers. The snarl
(13:49):
on her face, the spittle flying from her gleaming teeth,
her green eyes glowing phosphorescent. To this day I can
tell if she changed yet war if that look was
just her pure hatred of her poor husband. I only
know that it wasn't a human face that greeted me.
(14:11):
She screamed at me holding Edward and Mo swiped at
my face with the other, her nails tearing into my cheek,
drawing blood. But my eyes were on the boy, my child,
and I fought and pulled and finally he was free.
And terrified, I moved as quickly as I could back
to the shore, all the while her shrieking curses like
(14:33):
something out of hell behind me. When I made it
back to the beach, with Edward Wailing in my arms,
I turned turned back to see if she'd followed, but
she was gone. It was just me, winded leading, the
salt stinging my wounds, and Edward crying his salt tears
(14:55):
and the ocean. She did not stay gone. Days passed
and then weeks, but I remained vigilant. I locked the doors,
kept Edward close by my side and never out of
my sight, night or day. And then came the full moon.
(15:19):
Edward and I both slept fitfully that night. I dreamt
he was lost in the water, that I was drowning
and trying to find him. The cold hands were dragging
me down. I woke to a tapping. When I turned
to the window to look out, I saw her there,
standing on the other side of the glass, naked, her
silver hair wild, shining in the moonlight, her eyes burning
(15:43):
acid green. Though the windows separated us, I heard her voice,
clear and haunting from the other side. Give me back
my child, she said. It made my blood run cold.
Edward must have heard it too, and he kickled and
cooled to see his mother at the window. But I
(16:07):
told her no, no, I wouldn't let her take him
into the ocean again. She could never have him. She
said nothing more. She had just retreated back from the window,
back toward the beach. I did not sleep the rest
of that night. Again, days passed, again, weeks, and again
(16:30):
the full moon came and in the night she returned
give me back my child, and no, I said. And
Edward laughing in his bassinet at the Funny Game Mommy
was playing with Daddy, and she kept coming after that.
Every month, as Edward drew too big for the BASSONET
(16:55):
and moved to a crib in the bedroom, and slept
less and less. Then one night, the night of his
first birthday, after a long day of cake and celebration,
I allowed myself a single glass of whiskey before bid.
One glass. That was it. That's what it took for
(17:20):
me to sleep through the night. When I awoke, he
was gone. The crew was empty. The back door opened
to the sun rising over the bay, her footprints leading
down to the water. She had taken him home. I searched,
(17:45):
I took the boat up and down the coast, posted
his picture everywhere I could, but I know she had him,
she was with him, and so I set about looking
for the mortal fish again. I called out to m
bathed the water for a reprieve, prayed to the father
that I do anything, anything for my boy's return. I
(18:10):
received my answer the next full moon. As I lay
awake in the night staring out the window, I heard
tapping at the back door. I jumped from bed and
ran to see who it was, but when I opened
the door there was no one there, just the wind
off the ocean. When I stepped out to investigate further.
(18:34):
My foot found something cold and slimy on the stoop
and when I bent over I recognized it immediately. It
was the martle fish dead. It's barely split and it's
guts spilled across the door step. Something shone in its mouth.
(18:57):
I know what it was before I pried it up.
It was my grandmother's ring when I placed on her
finger the day we married. She would not come back.
Neither were the boy. They'd gone home and no matter
how long I travel the sea, if I were to
traverse every inch of its surface, I'd never find them.
(19:28):
I Oh, I'm so sorry. Yes, well, so am i.
m HMM, you'd best get moving. You're not going to
get any warmer standing out here in the wind. I'm
sure the father has plans for you that don't involve
freezing to death while some old coot shouts at you. Mother,
(19:51):
you'd best get her to the doctor. That's the plan. Good.
Thank you, Jonathan. Can we expect you at the gathering tonight?
Of course, good, good, and maybe you bring this girl
with you after she's gone herself all taken care of
and put on some dry clothes. I will see if
(20:13):
she's up to it. I certainly hope that she is.
Thank you for the coat, of course, miss now get
going and mother, may the father bless you. Everything returns
to him. Yes, eventually, tomorrow, on thirteen days of Halloween,
(21:05):
the road. Clearing my head seemed a polite thing to do.
Now that my head had company over and a new
thought nagged at me. What should I be doing now
with all this truth in my head? Careful, I mean,
(21:30):
why Boba Halting, a hundred and twenty slabs of hog
meet across country in a refrigerated truck, when the rest
of the hogs get to just walk around out there
on their own, you know, dressed in people clothes, pretending
to speak human? Thirteen days of Halloween. The seed starring
(21:53):
Kathy and Jimmy, Bethany and Lynde and Robin Bloodworth, written
by Nicholas Takowski, sound design and mixing by Josh Thane,
engineering by violent Ferton, dubway studios, New York, casting by
Jessica Losa, created by Matt Frederick and Alex Williams, with
executive producer Aaron Mankey, a production of I heart radio,
(22:14):
grim and mild and Blumhouse Television
M thirteen days of Halloween is from grim and mild
blumhouse and I heeart. Three D audio headphones recommended. Listener
discretion advised. Kay h they're searching for something out there
(00:51):
by the island. They'll probably never find it. Nothing comes
out of these waters once it's gone in. Well, almost nothing.
Where where am I h you've got quite the cut
(01:18):
on your forehead. Well, how did that happen? I don't know.
How did you get here? All right, I don't know.
I don't know anything. Okay. Well, what's the last thing
(01:41):
that you remember? Nothing, mm HMM, poor girl, crack on
the skull must have knocked at you. Things loose. Yeah,
take my hand, let's get you to the doctor. Alright, steady, steady, steady,
(02:02):
steady day. All right, good. How do you feel? Fine, stiff,
a little bit of headache. Well, we'll take it easy
as we go. You follow me? MM HMM. And Dire Brook.
(02:26):
To answer your question, I'm sorry, you asked where you were.
This is the township of dire brook. Oh, we were
once a prosperous fishing village and then we were famous,
famous for producing parts for merchant ships. But that was
(02:48):
a long time ago, though. We tried our hand at
the tourism trade. Voters called US bleak and I'm sorry.
Who Are you? Of course, I'm so sorry. And the
people here call me mother. Mother, it's a strange thing
(03:10):
to be called, I know, but I've grown to enjoy it.
It feels warm, doesn't it, and this world could use warm,
especially this corner of the world. I've grown so accustomed
to the nickname I sometimes quite forget what I was
called beforehand. Mother, it just feels natural, doesn't it? Yes,
(03:38):
are you cold? No, sort of numb. Well, we should
find you a coat. Nonetheless, these winds get brutal this
time of year. Oh what look Jonathan, who the fisherman
up there? His family has been here since the dawn
(04:00):
of dire brook. You have something to warm you, Surely, Jonathan? Hello, come,
we'll meet him by his boat. This used to be
a bustling place, this marina now of total disrepair, a
store ten years back, reduced to one working dog, and
(04:23):
only Jonathan uses it anymore, and not to fish. Hello, mother,
who's this fool girl? My guest? Well, she's dripping wet.
She'll not last long in this wind dressed like that
and old soggy to boot. That's a nasty Gash you've
got on your head there. I'll hang on then. This
(04:50):
old jacket is dusty and moth eaten, but it'll do
the job. Go on, take it, put it on. Thank you.
How are you there? Mother? Well enough, Jonathan, and you know,
about the same as yesterday. With apologies, still, what happened
(05:12):
yesterday the same thing as happens every other day. Girl,
I don't understand. Well, girl, here everything returns to the sea.
Not so many years ago this was a bustling little marina.
Men made their living here. It was hard, dangerous, backbreaking Labor,
(05:34):
but the sea here was generous to us, and so
as long as we weren't afraid to put in the time,
we could keep a solid roof over our heads and
keep our families bellies full. My father fished, and his
father before Him God only knows how far back the
salt in the bloodlines ago. But with the salt come
(05:56):
the stories. You've probably heard some of them before, or
the famous ones. Mermaids and sirens and Kraken's stories, passed
from sailor to sailor as they travel across the globe,
stories which eventually make their way inland from the ports.
My grandfather used to put me to bed with them,
(06:17):
the stories his gruff voice would recall six headed sea
monsters and ghosts, ships and all sorts of fantastic things
that lit up my imagination, all but assuring that I'd
follow the family tradition of making my living trolling the tides.
His favorite, though, and mine by default, was the story
(06:40):
of the mortal fish, long with smooth, silvery scales and
a streak of Kelly Green down its back. It was
beautiful to behold and just as elusive. Story was. If
you caught a mortal fish, any wish you made would
come true before the next sunrise, so long as you
(07:03):
released it back to the sea. And he wasn't just
repeating rumors. He said that when he was a younger man,
he'd caught one and wished for his true love, and
wouldn't you know it, he met my grandmother the very
next day of the market. He was a believer, my grandfather,
as our most who live here, we keep these stories
(07:27):
with us, repeat them to ourselves during the long, hard
days trolling the father of the seas tide. And it
was just such a story that was running through my
own head, many years after the old man had died.
As I mended nets one early morning, the full moon
high in the sky and a line in the water
(07:47):
to perhaps catch breakfast, my mind was drifting, dreaming of mermaids.
When there is a tallet on the line, gentle barely perceptible,
but when you make your living fishing, become a tuned
to these sorts of things, gentle nudges letting you know
you'll eat. That day, when I reeled it in, there
(08:11):
on the hook was the most beautiful fish I'd ever
pulled out of the water. It was just as my
grandfather had described, its sleek silver, the greyest green streak
running down its back and, what's more, its eyes seemed
to reflect the Dusky Pre dawn light with some sort
of intelligence. I don't know how else to describe it.
(08:37):
The fish knew that I knew him what he was,
the mortal fish. Now, I was never accused, even in
my youth, of being a true believer in anything, but
I wasn't going to eat this beautiful creature, nor was
I going to let an opportunity pass just in case
(08:58):
the old man had been right. I mean even I
am not above a little superstition, and so I made
the same wish my grandfather had before me. Being a romantic,
I wished for her great love and I tossed the
fish back into the water. I hadn't made it back
(09:19):
to the dark when I heard the cries. There she was,
off my starboard bow, thrashing in the water as if
tangled in a net. Without thought, I turned the boat
and pulled her in. If I told you she was beautiful,
it would be a lie by omission. The truth is
(09:39):
I'd never seen beauty before I laid eyes on her.
Her hair was a silvery type of blonde, like moonlight,
her eyes Kelly Green, even dressed in tattered rags and
soaked to the bone she was. I asked what brought
her so far out and she said the tide. So
(10:02):
I asked her name and she told it to me.
It's a name I'll not repeat now, a name that
will never cross these lips again, but at that moment
I was hopelessly smitten. She came home with me that
(10:24):
day and she stayed. She was strange and magical and mysterious.
She wouldn't tell me about her past, wouldn't talk about
her family, only the future, our future, most of all
the child that she wanted for us to have. She
(10:44):
could describe him in great detail. Strong arms and a
stout trump like his pop, silver haired and green eyed
like his mother, a dreamer and a fighter. I could
see him in my mind's eye when she spoke and
I was just so happy, entranced, I suppose, enchanted. We
(11:10):
were soon married. She wore my grandmother's silver ring. It
was only fitting, and soon thereafter, on another night with
a full moon high and sky, she bore me that child.
He was beautiful as well, small and delicate, but with
(11:30):
a terrible sort of weight to him, as if he'd
sink like a stone in the water, but with mother's
hair and piercing green eyes. We named him Edward, after
my father, though I suspect that she whispered another name
to him as he slept in his bassinet. I felt complete.
(11:54):
I had a family. Well, that should be the end
of the tail, a happy dream Made Real, but the
sea is fickle with her gifts. Over the coming weeks,
my wife became restless, spoke of returning home to her father,
spoke of bringing Edward with her. I told her I'd
(12:19):
happily bring her home if she'd just let me know
where home was for her, but she wouldn't meet my
eye and would only become sour faced and call me
a stupid brute. It went on like this for weeks
after Edward arrived. I thought perhaps it was the sadness
(12:40):
that sometimes comes after a woman gives birth. You know
that well. I'm no expert on these things, but I
know when something has gone too far, and one night,
the night of the next full moon, it did. I
don't know what woke me, the squeak of the back
(13:02):
door or wind blowing up the path from the beach
into the bedroom, but I knew at once that she
was gone. The bassinet beside the bed already cold and empty.
I jumped out of the bed and ran, and though
I was barefooting in my skippies, I didn't feel any
of the cold, at least not physically, as I followed
(13:24):
my instincts down the rocky path to the shore, where
I found her just in time as she walked into
the frigid ocean, my boy in her arms. Without a
second thought, I had followed her into the water, grabbing
her shoulder, trying to pull her back toward the shore.
And she turned. Her face was not hers. The snarl
(13:49):
on her face, the spittle flying from her gleaming teeth,
her green eyes glowing phosphorescent. To this day I can
tell if she changed yet war if that look was
just her pure hatred of her poor husband. I only
know that it wasn't a human face that greeted me.
(14:11):
She screamed at me holding Edward and Mo swiped at
my face with the other, her nails tearing into my cheek,
drawing blood. But my eyes were on the boy, my child,
and I fought and pulled and finally he was free.
And terrified, I moved as quickly as I could back
to the shore, all the while her shrieking curses like
(14:33):
something out of hell behind me. When I made it
back to the beach, with Edward Wailing in my arms,
I turned turned back to see if she'd followed, but
she was gone. It was just me, winded leading, the
salt stinging my wounds, and Edward crying his salt tears
(14:55):
and the ocean. She did not stay gone. Days passed
and then weeks, but I remained vigilant. I locked the doors,
kept Edward close by my side and never out of
my sight, night or day. And then came the full moon.
(15:19):
Edward and I both slept fitfully that night. I dreamt
he was lost in the water, that I was drowning
and trying to find him. The cold hands were dragging
me down. I woke to a tapping. When I turned
to the window to look out, I saw her there,
standing on the other side of the glass, naked, her
silver hair wild, shining in the moonlight, her eyes burning
(15:43):
acid green. Though the windows separated us, I heard her voice,
clear and haunting from the other side. Give me back
my child, she said. It made my blood run cold.
Edward must have heard it too, and he kickled and
cooled to see his mother at the window. But I
(16:07):
told her no, no, I wouldn't let her take him
into the ocean again. She could never have him. She
said nothing more. She had just retreated back from the window,
back toward the beach. I did not sleep the rest
of that night. Again, days passed, again, weeks, and again
(16:30):
the full moon came and in the night she returned
give me back my child, and no, I said. And
Edward laughing in his bassinet at the Funny Game Mommy
was playing with Daddy, and she kept coming after that.
Every month, as Edward drew too big for the BASSONET
(16:55):
and moved to a crib in the bedroom, and slept
less and less. Then one night, the night of his
first birthday, after a long day of cake and celebration,
I allowed myself a single glass of whiskey before bid.
One glass. That was it. That's what it took for
(17:20):
me to sleep through the night. When I awoke, he
was gone. The crew was empty. The back door opened
to the sun rising over the bay, her footprints leading
down to the water. She had taken him home. I searched,
(17:45):
I took the boat up and down the coast, posted
his picture everywhere I could, but I know she had him,
she was with him, and so I set about looking
for the mortal fish again. I called out to m
bathed the water for a reprieve, prayed to the father
that I do anything, anything for my boy's return. I
(18:10):
received my answer the next full moon. As I lay
awake in the night staring out the window, I heard
tapping at the back door. I jumped from bed and
ran to see who it was, but when I opened
the door there was no one there, just the wind
off the ocean. When I stepped out to investigate further.
(18:34):
My foot found something cold and slimy on the stoop
and when I bent over I recognized it immediately. It
was the martle fish dead. It's barely split and it's
guts spilled across the door step. Something shone in its mouth.
(18:57):
I know what it was before I pried it up.
It was my grandmother's ring when I placed on her
finger the day we married. She would not come back.
Neither were the boy. They'd gone home and no matter
how long I travel the sea, if I were to
traverse every inch of its surface, I'd never find them.
(19:28):
I Oh, I'm so sorry. Yes, well, so am i.
m HMM, you'd best get moving. You're not going to
get any warmer standing out here in the wind. I'm
sure the father has plans for you that don't involve
freezing to death while some old coot shouts at you. Mother,
(19:51):
you'd best get her to the doctor. That's the plan. Good.
Thank you, Jonathan. Can we expect you at the gathering tonight?
Of course, good, good, and maybe you bring this girl
with you after she's gone herself all taken care of
and put on some dry clothes. I will see if
(20:13):
she's up to it. I certainly hope that she is.
Thank you for the coat, of course, miss now get
going and mother, may the father bless you. Everything returns
to him. Yes, eventually, tomorrow, on thirteen days of Halloween,
(21:05):
the road. Clearing my head seemed a polite thing to do.
Now that my head had company over and a new
thought nagged at me. What should I be doing now
with all this truth in my head? Careful, I mean,
(21:30):
why Boba Halting, a hundred and twenty slabs of hog
meet across country in a refrigerated truck, when the rest
of the hogs get to just walk around out there
on their own, you know, dressed in people clothes, pretending
to speak human? Thirteen days of Halloween. The seed starring
(21:53):
Kathy and Jimmy, Bethany and Lynde and Robin Bloodworth, written
by Nicholas Takowski, sound design and mixing by Josh Thane,
engineering by violent Ferton, dubway studios, New York, casting by
Jessica Losa, created by Matt Frederick and Alex Williams, with
executive producer Aaron Mankey, a production of I heart radio,
(22:14):
grim and mild and Blumhouse Television
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