December 31, 2025 • 44 mins
Weekly Spooky rings in the new year with a New Year’s Eve horror story that spirals into a Y2K nightmare—and it all starts with a stupidly simple discovery: crank two radios loud enough, hit the right tone, and you can rip open a hole in time.
Sixteen-year-old Jimmy and his cousin Phillip start pulling lost junk from the void… until grief turns curiosity into obsession. One phone call becomes a lifeline. One step through the portal becomes a disaster. And one panicked, brain-melting decision in the past causes a chain reaction that detonates reality right at midnight.
Now it’s New Year’s Eve, the world is collapsing into alternate timelines, and a surreal broadcast announces the unthinkable: a monstrous new order has arrived… and Jimmy’s become the accidental saint of the apocalypse. Expect time travel gone wrong, cosmic horror comedy, end-of-the-world chaos, and a ticking-clock sprint through broken history where every “fix” makes things weirder.
Hit play, kill the lights, and welcome to a New Year’s episode where the ball doesn’t drop—reality does. Dare you to make it past 11:59.
Saint Jimmy — by Dan Wilder
🎧 LISTEN NOW and subscribe for spine-tingling horror stories every week!
🎉 Unlock exclusive bonus episodes and support the show on Patreon!
👉 WeeklySpooky.com/Join
📬 Contact Us / Submit Your Horror Story!
🎵 Music by Ray Mattis 👉 Check out Ray’s incredible work here !
👨💼 Executive Producers: Rob Fields, Bobbletopia.com
🎥 Produced by: Daniel Wilder
🌐 Explore more terrifying tales at: WeeklySpooky.com
Sixteen-year-old Jimmy and his cousin Phillip start pulling lost junk from the void… until grief turns curiosity into obsession. One phone call becomes a lifeline. One step through the portal becomes a disaster. And one panicked, brain-melting decision in the past causes a chain reaction that detonates reality right at midnight.
Now it’s New Year’s Eve, the world is collapsing into alternate timelines, and a surreal broadcast announces the unthinkable: a monstrous new order has arrived… and Jimmy’s become the accidental saint of the apocalypse. Expect time travel gone wrong, cosmic horror comedy, end-of-the-world chaos, and a ticking-clock sprint through broken history where every “fix” makes things weirder.
Hit play, kill the lights, and welcome to a New Year’s episode where the ball doesn’t drop—reality does. Dare you to make it past 11:59.
Saint Jimmy — by Dan Wilder
🎧 LISTEN NOW and subscribe for spine-tingling horror stories every week!
🎉 Unlock exclusive bonus episodes and support the show on Patreon!
👉 WeeklySpooky.com/Join
📬 Contact Us / Submit Your Horror Story!
- Twitter: @WeeklySpooky
- Facebook: facebook.com/WeeklySpooky
- Email: WeeklySpooky@gmail.com
🎵 Music by Ray Mattis 👉 Check out Ray’s incredible work here !
👨💼 Executive Producers: Rob Fields, Bobbletopia.com
🎥 Produced by: Daniel Wilder
🌐 Explore more terrifying tales at: WeeklySpooky.com
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
At eleven fifty nine on New Year's Eve, Jimmy learns
the worst truth imaginable. The portal he opened wasn't a miracle.
It was a trap, one wrong trip, one impossible moment,
and now the airwaves belong to something inhuman.
Speaker 2 (00:23):
What's that You want to be scared to? Come with me.
You will experience tales over our wrong ghosts and it
is not recommended for the week.
Speaker 1 (00:45):
At Heart.
Speaker 2 (00:51):
Listeners in the dark Park. It's more funny that way
way way. This is Weekly.
Speaker 1 (00:58):
Speaking, Hello, my spookys. It's Wednesday and New Year's Eve,
and it's time for a little spooky in your weekly
and one more bit of fear to end the year.
(01:23):
I'm your host and narrator, Enrique Kuto, and twenty twenty
five has been a banner year for the podcast. I
just want to say thank you all so so much.
We've had more listeners, more programs, more everything this year,
and it's really made a huge difference in my life.
(01:47):
I'm just really grateful. So at the end of the show,
instead of the traditional outro we usually do, I'm going
to go with something a little more thankful and festive.
So make sure you stick around for that, and of course,
if you love what we do and want to support
us Weeklyspooky dot com slash Join is the place to go.
(02:09):
But now it's time to get ready for a very special,
terrifying New Year's tale cooked up from the twisted mind
of Dan Wilder. So scoot closer to the fire. Tonight's
story starts the way a lot of bad ideas do
Two idiots one summer afternoon and music turned up way
(02:33):
too loud. But what if the noise didn't just annoy
the neighbors. What if it tore the air open like
a seam, splitting just wide enough to reach inside and
grab something from another time. And what if years later
(02:54):
you use that same trick to reach the one thing
you miss most, only to step through and realize you
didn't go back to fix your life. You went back
to break the world. Because when the clock crawls towards
midnight on New Year's Eve, some doors should stay shut,
(03:19):
because once they're opened, they never ever close. Saint Jimmy
by Dan Wilder. When I was sixteen, I discovered a
(03:43):
shocking truth that changed the course of my entire life.
Dramatic enough for you, Well, what comes next will either
have you ignoring me as a crackpot or and this
is what I hope my words. So what am I
(04:03):
talking about? Time travel? Of course, it went a little
something like this. It was summer and my cousin Philip,
and I were sitting pullside, listening to tunes and having
a chill time until someone didn't like whatever hair metal
masterpiece we were playing and decided to counterattack with their
(04:27):
own radio a few houses away. I looked up, and
at that moment, as the sonic waves collided, I saw
it a shimmer, a slight disturbance, as if in a trance.
I walked over to the phenomena. Upon further examination, it
(04:49):
looked like a hazy tear in the afternoon air. And
being both young and naive, I did what anyone want,
I have realized was a monumentally shitty idea. I shoved
my hand in there. I could feel something in my grasp,
(05:10):
something soft, something artificial. I pulled out an inflatable beach
ball adorned with a large Ghostbuster's logo, before the portal
snapped shut as my cousin, who had now seen me
standing a distance away, clicked off the radio. Hey, numb nuts,
(05:34):
what are you doing? Over there. I couldn't really say.
It made no sense, and the words failed me. So
I just held up the ball and showed my cousin
with a look of bewilderment on my face. As he
sauntered over to me, he offered his usual wisdom, Are
(05:56):
you just gonna play with your balls all day? Or
are we going backside? I held the ball fourth like
a talisman. That's when my cousin snatched the orb and
he went from grinning to shock that ball It can't
be His confusion did little to bring me out of
(06:20):
my stupor. Let me see that. He grabbed the ball
and examined it like a jeweler inspecting a rare stone.
I gave this ball to my friend Jeff, Remember Jeff, Yeah,
I managed. I gave this to him the summer of
eighty five before he moved away, right where we're standing,
(06:47):
before he yeah, before he died. You're sure this is
the same ball. Philip rotated it, and sure enough, there
it was. Jeff. We'll be friends forever, even if your
dumb ass has to move, inscribed in silver sharpie on
(07:08):
the black vinyl. That was four years ago. But look,
Philip ran his fingers over the metallic ink, causing it
to smear. The writing is still fresh. I explained where
the ball had come from with a deep sigh, ready
(07:29):
for Philip to let me have it for being both
a liar and some sort of smart ass show me.
He said, Oh okay, I said, before realizing I had
zero fucking clue how to go about that. In Philip's defense,
(07:50):
he immediately believed me, and for the next decade he
was patient. After I tried every experiment to recreate the incident,
the first thing I discovered was both the importance of
the music's tone and the exact distance between the conflicting
tones that would result in a time rip. Honestly, it
(08:14):
wasn't complicated, didn't require any math or some fancy Victorian
fuck chair or fancy car. It was all sound, and
the ease of its use revealed why people had never
figured out its secret. You can always count on a
smart motherfucker to overcomplicate things, though, to be fair, exact
(08:37):
precision placement is key. Oh and I can just feel
when the vibration is about right in my inner ear. Anyhow,
we could pull all sorts of shit out of there,
and it changed depending on where we opened up the void,
missing keys, mismatched socks, day cards. It was that last
(09:02):
one that became important. My parents died about five years
into this whole affair, and when I pulled that fucking
card out, every bit of sorrow and loss washed over
me in waves that became short lived. When Philip interjected
(09:25):
we should try and contact them, it seemed so right.
I'd be able to hear them one more time, tell
them I love them one more time. A few diagrams,
a little experimenting, and an extra phone, and we were
off to the races. Finally, I thought I had it.
(09:47):
Two phones in this case, we were using the classic
Garfield model and one of those see through numbers like
the one in the Guns N' Roses patience video. I
dialed the number nervous, a number I had called one
hundred times. It rang and rang and rang. Maybe it
(10:11):
won't work this way phones and all suddenly someone picked
up on the other end. Hello. It was unmistakably my
mother's voice. The tears started and didn't stop. I miss
you and Dad. Jimmy, Yeah, it's me, it's me. Static
(10:38):
buzzed Jimmy, Jimmy. The line went dead. That fucking sealed
the deal, that's for sure. If I could hear them,
I knew I could see them again. Just a few
more tweaks make that hole a little bigger. We had
(11:09):
set up shop at the school across from where my
parents had lived, a house that had been boarded up
for years, as I just couldn't bear to sell it,
but I sure as shit couldn't live there. Due to
it being Christmas break, it was a real ghost town.
And as soon as we picked the lock on the
(11:29):
cafeteria service door and slipped inside, we set up our
amplifiers and boom boxes and got down to fucking brass tacks.
Philip had managed to score a camcorder and shit from
the electronics store he worked at, and as he calibrated
it or jammed a tape inside it or some such shit,
(11:53):
I got to work on how to make that hole bigger.
As before the exact tones were what were key, and soon,
with guitars screaming and drums pounding, I got those signals
to match, and boom a bigger hole. I swallowed hard,
(12:14):
Wish me luck, I grabbed the camcorder and walked towards
the sparkling gash in the universe, Good luck, dumbass. I
stepped in and my head exploded with light and sound.
When my senses returned, I realized where I was, exactly
(12:37):
where I had stepped in, But no amps, no fillip,
just an angry, glowing hole and a calendar on the
wall that read nineteen eighty nine instead of nineteen ninety
nine as it should. The school was equally abandoned, and
(12:58):
I soon exited and entered parking lot. Snow was beginning
to fall in large flakes as I trudged across the
street to my parents' house under a full moon. No
lights on Dad's truck, not in the driveway. Great, I
picked the rare night they actually went somewhere. I made
(13:21):
my way up the driveway and unlocked the front door
with the key I still kept on my keychain. I
entered the house, and even in the dark, I could
tell that it looked exactly as it had a decade ago.
It even smelled the same, like warm coffee and smokes,
(13:41):
which you wouldn't think would be nostalgic, but totally was.
Lights flashed outside as a car drove up the driveway.
Definitely not Dad. He was a back ind to the
driveway parking zelot. It then hit me, what would a
(14:01):
ten years older version of myself be doing in my
parents house. That may be hard to explain. Maybe I
don't look that different. Maybe I can just pretend to
be me. I hid in the seldom used downstairs closet
(14:23):
and peeked out of the slightly ajar door to get
a sense of who was coming home. The headlights retreated
as the door opened, and the kitchen light switch was
turned on, And there I was. Fuck nineteen eighty nine
Me looked young. Nineteen ninety nine. Me was already overly
(14:48):
tired even in my mid twenties. Oh crap, I remember
this night. I just got back from National Lampoon's Christmas vacation. Yep,
there's the popcorn bucket. I'm still eating from butter soaked
kernels with sour sweet spree candy mixed in going into
(15:10):
my open gob with wild abandon. Be careful, my dude,
that shit is already catching up with me. Philip's older
sister drove us not important, but definitely part of the
fond memory slash dopamine hit mixed with deja vus. For me,
at least, that sets the tone for this whole sordid shebang.
(15:34):
Did I mention that the closet was just off the kitchen,
Well it was, and I gasped as I opened the
fridge just inches away from where I was hiding, and
poured myself a large glass of unsweetened iced tea, then
sauntered off to play some Nintendo and masturbate a classic
(15:56):
late eighties Jimmy Knight. I remained in the closet, dizzy
from the re experience waves of nausea, swaying to and
fro Okay, maybe I should have thought out a little
more what I would do when I got here, but
it's too late to deal with that now, which seems
(16:16):
ironic given what we're dealing with here. I needed to
get back to the school and think things over. Should
be easy, peasy, given that I'm currently distracted upstairs. I
exited the closet with Ninja level stealth, which means I
only knocked a minimum amount of shit everywhere as I
(16:37):
awkwardly stumbled out, only to see the familiar red lights
of my dad backing up the driveway. This was supposed
to be sweet and emotional. Now it's an exercise in terror. Wait,
I got it, my parents stepped into the kitchen and
(17:01):
I hugged them tightly. My ruse was flawless. Upstairs, me
couldn't care less that his parents were home, so he
was set, and I had pulled the hood of my
sweatshirt over my head so as to disguise the fact
I had a completely different haircut and had put on
a solid fifteen pounds since they left earlier. My dad,
(17:25):
whom I'd never hugged a day in my life, seemed shocked,
but my mother seemed to enjoy the sudden affectionate outburst.
Only the phone ringing brought the picture perfect moment to
an end, and of course it was my dumb ass
on the other end, calling from the future. Well you've
(17:54):
already heard the call, but now my parents turned to
look at me strangely. Who was that? I asked sheepishly.
It it sounded like you, my mother responded, confused as fuck.
I broke out into a bit of the old unconvincing
(18:15):
laughter and offered that, damn Philip, his pranks never end.
I shot glances to my parents to see if they
bought that one. Confusion continued to rule the room. Well
I better head out, Where are you going an innocent question,
but really really not needed At the moment. Before I
(18:41):
could answer my mother, I heard the floorboards creak above
the kitchen, right where my room was located. What the
hell was I going to do? Now? If I walked
down those stairs and popped into the kitchen to find
me talking to my parents, shit would decidely head south
(19:01):
quicker than it already was. And as if on que
down I came to say I panicked would be an understatement.
My dad turned and saw me entering the kitchen where
I was currently standing. Brains were starting to break, mostly mine,
(19:24):
so I did the only thing I could. I ran
up to myself and planted a huge kiss on my
own lips. Look, we all react to stress differently. Also,
this was an incredibly sucky decision. Our lips collided, and
(19:44):
time and space unraveled around me, both of me technically,
and as each bizarre iteration of reality danced past my eyes,
I mercifully lost consciousness. As a large animal roar sounded
far in the distance. I woke up at the school.
(20:09):
Philip was frantically trying to drag me out of there.
Everything was hazy until we arrived at Philip's apartment anyway,
a cup of coffee in hand, we began to fill
each other in as best we could. How long was
I gone? A week? A whole fucking week. I kept
(20:32):
going back to check for you, but there was no
sign until today. What day is it? New Year's Eve?
Not that that's important. Tell me what went on? Did
you see them your parents? I sure did? Details well.
(20:53):
I hid in a closet, hugged my parents and kissed
myself on the lips. It's great. Wait what I confronted
myself and it was all I could think to do.
That's all you could think to do. Yeah, it was
a stressful day. So how were you? How was I? Yeah?
(21:19):
As a kisser, good form, soft lips. Are you getting
off on this?
Speaker 3 (21:25):
What?
Speaker 1 (21:26):
No? Hell? No, I was pretty good. I knew it
the fuck you mean? You knew it? Nothing? Thinking out loud?
What happened next? You know, a total falling apart of
reality and maybe a monstrous growl or two, and then
you came through a week later? Apparently? Do you think
(21:51):
you fucked anything up? What do you mean, like? Did
you break some sort of time travel law or something?
When pass in future? You locked lips? How the hell?
Do I know. I'm just some motherfucker that discovered he
could fuck with time because White Snake and Rat were
cranked up to the nines. Fair point. What's next? What's next?
(22:17):
There is no next mission? Complete. Now we grab some
eggnog and watch the ball drop. We can't stop now
it worked. You sent yourself back in time. Imagine what
we could see, what we could experience. We can stop
at the wei part. It's my ass going through those portals.
(22:41):
It's that bad of an experience, honestly, No minus that
trip back. So let's do it again. Not sold, my dude.
Maybe in the New Year. Well, if the computers all
go tits up come twelve oh one, we may need
to beat a rich I read anyway, that's just media bullshit.
(23:04):
I'm sure a computer can handle a fucking zero. Besides,
isn't like it already two thousand in Australia. Switch on
the tube. I bet things are solid down under as predicted.
The news showed New Year's Eve going down without a
hitch in various locales. See no problem, turn it over
(23:26):
to the ball for a fraction of a second. The
apartment seemed different, heavily fortified, but Dick Clark distracted me,
or the lack of him. Turns out they weren't doing
the televised ball drop in favor of some y two
(23:48):
K flavored news bullshit? Is there a three Stooges marathon
on or something? Philip began cycling through the stations before
find the anticipated hilarious violence. Ah, there it is, Moe
grinding a handsaw across Curly's bald head, metal teeth flying
(24:10):
from the blade. I laughed, Philip laughed. A commercial broke
in for some y two K preparedness video hosted by Spock,
of all people, we laughed at that too, until a
sweaty Peter Jennings interrupted our slap happy good times. What
(24:31):
I'm about to report to you is unbelievable, but it
is happening. The camera pulled out slightly, revealing a skeletal
arm holding a knife threatening the revered news anchor. An invasion,
A surreal invasion is taking place. Creatures, monsters. The feed
(24:57):
went to static before revealing a reptilian face, cobalt blue
and toothy filling the frame. The figure leaned back, revealing
a t Rex clad in a leather get up with
a World War II Nazi helmet, balancing on its nightmare noggin.
(25:19):
Before the dinosaur even uttered a word, I realized just
how much I fucked up. The t rex shifted on
his throne, constructed of mangled cars and bones, and cleared
its throat, which was a fever dream in and of itself.
Philip looked at me sternly. All I could do was shrug.
(25:44):
People of timeline one eight eight zero eight seven to
two hear me.
Speaker 4 (25:51):
I Caligula Khan, the hero of the Battle of zerth six,
God of the Compsognathus, order of exileiastic shit sharpshooters, principle
of Miss Mary's Home for Wayward Girls, and all around
draconian leader have arrived here to expand my dominion. We
(26:12):
sat open mouthed. You will bow before my leather daddy
bone boys, and turn yourselves into your local reassignment center
following this very broadcast. There you will receive further instructions
A fast moving list of addresses scrolled before returning to
(26:34):
Caligula Khan. Also, unauthorized music played at loud volume is
hereby for boten shit. I think he's on to us now.
Credit where credit is due. None of this would be
possible without the help of my Chrono Lost Romeo buddy
(26:57):
Saint Jimmy behind Khan a giant banner unfurled, revealing a
portrait of myself adorned in saintly attire. My lips were
full and deep, Crimson, and I was preparing to suck
my own dick. Brilliant phillips glare intensified.
Speaker 3 (27:19):
What well.
Speaker 1 (27:21):
I hope you enjoyed that smooch, because your foreplay is
going to end in all of us getting fucked. Oh yeah,
I totally planned this knock it off, but you did it.
It was kind of virgin territory. There isn't an instruction
manual for something that shouldn't exist outside of a rerun
(27:42):
of Doctor Fucking Who. How are you going to fix it?
Now that I've unleashed Godzilla Hitler on the world, it's
you and not we. Huh, that's right, Philip, phil Philly
Cheese Steak. Come on, I'm probably going to need some
assistance if I'm going to save our reality and all well,
(28:06):
count me out. This is all way too much. I
need to clear my head. And with that, Philip exited
stage left and straight into the gentle embrace of Khan's
leather fetish skeletons. This was rapidly getting out of hand.
(28:27):
I sat in Philip's apartment and thought things through, which
was a clear mistake given the absolute lunatic asylum nature
of the biz at hand. The image of that banner
kept coming back to haunt my thoughts. Then it occurred
to me step one should be to lean into that shit.
(28:49):
A thought pounded its way into my mind with that
old deja vus. I grabbed a bag of powdered sugar
that freaky phil liked to use in his morning coffee,
mostly because I just couldn't help myself. Like Philip, I
brazenly strolled from the apartment to the street below. But
as with a lot of things, results may vary. I
(29:14):
hit the streets, but any skeletal forces I encountered, went
down on one knee and made an exaggerated blowjob motion,
but it was more station of the cross rather than
mocking wise assery. Plan. I need a plan, I repeated
in a hushed sing song tone. Skeletons, people screaming, whispered
(29:40):
curses wished upon me. None of this was helping. Obviously,
more time travel was going to be the answer, but
blasting hair metal would attract the ire of those bonehead
bastards lickety freakin' split. So I walked and I thought
until a glove skeletal hand fell on my shoulder from behind.
(30:04):
The being spoke, but a giant ball gag prevented any
words from being remotely intelligible. Sorry, pal, no comprende, it
mumbled a few more times. I pointed towards the gag,
which the skeleton removed with a wet pop that defied
(30:25):
logic given the creature's lack of saliva. Jimmy, who's asking?
Technically me, skeleton five six seven eight? What's your name? Basically?
I mean, as far as this occupation is concerned, it's
so informal. I agree. Do you have like a first
(30:48):
and last name or is it just mister five six
seven eight Oliver? What my name is? Oliver? Do you
have a last name? Close off, Oliver, clothes off. You've
gotta be fucking with me, No, that is forbidden. Only
Saint Jimmy may fornicate with Saint Jimmy. The regret over
(31:11):
this conversation was beginning to surge like a mighty river
rolling my eyes. I hesitantly asked, Okay, Oliver, what can
I do for you? The Great Kahn requests an audience
with you? Of course he does, But isn't he in Manhattan?
(31:32):
That's like three hours from here, and I don't have
any wheels, my man. Two more skeletons joined the first,
carrying boomboxes and kneeled. They played an unholy amalgamation of
Celine Dion and Mariah Carey, which opened a vivid lavender
hole that Oliver shoved me into without warning. I crash
(32:03):
landed hard before the t rex is thrown, as I
had a thought, Shit, the tones can be used for
spontaneous teleportation. That one never occurred to me. Saint Jimmy
in the flesh, Praise be the dinosaur hissed, Praise be
(32:27):
the skeleton throng in attendance, repeated reverently. So what can
I do for you? Not a hell of a lot
besides what you've already done. Great. Well, Uh, you're welcome.
Guess I'll be moseying along, not so fast. I'd be
(32:49):
honored if you'd be my guest here. Guest, Yeah, guest
like feasts and shit? Sounds cool? But what's the catch? No, catch. Okay,
I'm game. Do you have like a table or some
shit we can gnawsh around? Indeed, I do. Con rose
(33:13):
from his throne and removed his helmet, revealing a jade
green mohawk equal parts hair and feathers. He shook his
punk rock mane with wild abandon and gestured towards a
giant blood red curtain, which fell to reveal a long
wooden table, the far end of which ended in a cage.
(33:37):
Let me guess I'm sitting at the kid's table. I spat,
gesturing towards the seat inside the cage. It's just a
precaution in case you have any designs on pissing on
my parade and all, I wouldn't dream of it. I
(33:58):
would hence the ounce of prevention. Caligula Khan motion towards
the cage, and I obliged. The courses came fast and furious,
and I have to admit the banquet was choice. What
exactly is your plan for all this? I asked, through
(34:19):
chicken grease smeared lips. Not much, really, just a little
shift in the ruling class, turn a couple million folks
into skeletons under my sway, Just a Tuesday, really and
my part in this your Tiger Beat cover material baby
(34:39):
a pretty relatable human face to soothe and rally the masses.
So a traitor to the human race, but cute. Basically
I can live with that, I lied, taking another bite
of roast chicken. Excellent. Now let's begin the night's entertainment.
(35:03):
Pyro and screeching guitars heralded the arrival of both Whitesnake
and Rat with a sizeable portion of original members. The
guitars grew quiet, and the performance began with both bands
whisper singing a collection of their respective greatest hits. Shit
(35:26):
this as Lips was definitely hitting all the right notes
to get my attention while simultaneously assuring no time Shenanigans
would fuck up his Christmas, so to speak. It was
then I remembered my stash from Philip's place. Rat Stephen
Parsy came close, crooning way cool, Junior, and I held
(35:49):
aloft my magic bag and said, by the power of cocaine,
you shall sing louder kind of anyway. It a hey, kids,
drugs play louder and don't let Satan's minions know about it,
and you'll get your booger candy directly, and by the
time they realized that the Columbian gold was actually overprocessed sugar,
(36:14):
I'd be balls deep in the time stream words spread
fast among the performers assembled that Saint Jimmy was holding
and he'd give it up for maximum strength rock and roll.
Each band tore through hit after hit, each song getting
progressively louder, until I finally caught glimpse of that sparkling
(36:36):
portal right inside my prison. And when Khan was distracted
by an errand piece of meat lodged between two of
his copious teeth, I made my move and tipped right
into the gateway. As that fabric tour, I could have
sworn that rat was comprised of human sized hair metal rodents.
(37:04):
I emerged in nineteen eighty nine Manhattan with no plan
and no clue, which admittedly was right on brand, but
at the very least there was no t Rex overlords
or kinky skeletons. Maybe, with things said at least somewhat
back to normal, maybe I could attempt to sort this
(37:27):
mess out. As I walked through Times Square, I quickly
learned that the mess was much deeper than I thought.
For starters. Every neon drenched billboard that featured a human
form was off by quite a large margin, as every
actor or brand spokesmodel was now in anthropomorphic feline. Fuck
(37:55):
I hope real rat based rat never ends up here
passed a sign for the hot Broadway musical Humans, which
featured catfolk in flashy costumes and makeup to make them
appear as Homo sapiens. I pulled my hood tight over
my face because that worked aces last time. But admittedly
(38:20):
that's all I had at the moment until genius struck.
Maybe I could go a bit sideways, end up in
summer of nineteen eighty nine and stop myself from making
this discovery in the first place. Technically I had all
the time in the world to work on this little
(38:41):
brain teaser. Long story longer. I hid out in cat
Haattan and worked on finding tones that could send me
where I needed to go. I had help, of course,
including faithful Fluffy Perhams, a long haired Persian cat with
(39:03):
an innate aptitude for time travel. And as Fluffy licked
his hand slash pause and wished me adieu, I stepped
into the shimmering void and hoped for the best. I
emerged behind a bush in Philip's backyard. There we were
(39:25):
just lounging by the pool, stuffing our faces with cool
Ranch Doritos music blaring. This was going to require cracker
jack timing, but that fucking radio is going to get
turned down and prevent this horse crap from becoming a reality.
I stealthed my way around the deck until I was
(39:48):
positioned behind the radio and out of sight. I reached
up to turn it off. What the fuck? Who's down there?
Philip exclaimed? Before I knew it, Philip and I were
looking down at me from the deck. Dude, he looks
just like you, but like older time comes for us
(40:12):
all ass lips, I spat back. He sounds like you too.
I reached into my hoodie in the desperate hope to
find a distraction, but came up empty. Desperate times indeed,
then it hit me, holy shit, guys, is that Kelly
(40:33):
Bundy and those dipshits actually looked. I grabbed the radio
and booked it across the yard. I could hear Philip
angrily discover my Christina Applegate centric ruse. I ran further
almost to the back gate, and then out on the streets.
(40:54):
I ducked into a neighbor's shed and caught my breath.
The deep laughter came soon, pure relief over a situation
well and truly avoided. I must have sat in there
for a half hour, wallowing in my success. Finally I
gathered myself and peeked out of the shed to check
(41:16):
if the coast was clear.
Speaker 3 (41:18):
Shit.
Speaker 1 (41:20):
The entire yard was filled with leather clad skeletons. I
shut the door quietly. What the hell I took the
damn radio, I thought. The air and the shed filled
with the heady aroma of catnip and burning ozone. A
(41:41):
portal opened and Fluffy emerged in full military regalia, and
he was flocked by other hard ass cats, as well
as at least five different versions of myself. I messed up,
huh in a way, But there's there's no time to explain.
(42:01):
We need to go, and off I went to try
and firefight countless variables across time with an army of
cat people and me, Well, my spookys, the year has
(42:27):
come to a close. I know it wasn't a very
easy year for many of you, but I'm so honored
that this podcast, this little simple desire to feel like
Halloween all year long, a desire felt by myself and
a group of very talented authors could become a part
(42:52):
of that year for you. I know there's a lot
of new people listening, a lot of people who joined
us in our sober and decided to stick around through
the holidays. So I just want to say thank you
from the bottom of my heart. I'm so honored to
entertain you and to bring you all of these wild
(43:14):
and wonderful and creepy stories from so many different authors,
to bring you terrifying in true episodes about folklore and
true crime that fascinates me and can fascinate you. This
show is, in many many ways a dream come true
as a young man, as a little kid.
Speaker 3 (43:35):
Who just loved Halloween so much because it felt like home.
Now I get to celebrate it multiple times a week
with all of you. And it's because of all of
you that I can keep doing it, and I can
keep bringing you new types of content, new little shows
like this Week in Horror History, cutting deep into horror
(43:58):
and so.
Speaker 1 (43:58):
On and so forth.
Speaker 3 (44:00):
It's an incredible, incredible thing to behold. I moved deeply
by it. So thank you all so much for joining us,
for listening for sharing a little bit of your spooky
side with us. That's all I have to say. No
sales pitch, no run down of anywhere you need to
(44:23):
go or things you need to do for me. You've
already done more than enough, So now I'm going to
take a much needed break because I publish damn near
every day since October, and I'll be back soon to
be the voice of your spooky fun. Thank you and
Happy New Year.
At eleven fifty nine on New Year's Eve, Jimmy learns
the worst truth imaginable. The portal he opened wasn't a miracle.
It was a trap, one wrong trip, one impossible moment,
and now the airwaves belong to something inhuman.
Speaker 2 (00:23):
What's that You want to be scared to? Come with me.
You will experience tales over our wrong ghosts and it
is not recommended for the week.
Speaker 1 (00:45):
At Heart.
Speaker 2 (00:51):
Listeners in the dark Park. It's more funny that way
way way. This is Weekly.
Speaker 1 (00:58):
Speaking, Hello, my spookys. It's Wednesday and New Year's Eve,
and it's time for a little spooky in your weekly
and one more bit of fear to end the year.
(01:23):
I'm your host and narrator, Enrique Kuto, and twenty twenty
five has been a banner year for the podcast. I
just want to say thank you all so so much.
We've had more listeners, more programs, more everything this year,
and it's really made a huge difference in my life.
(01:47):
I'm just really grateful. So at the end of the show,
instead of the traditional outro we usually do, I'm going
to go with something a little more thankful and festive.
So make sure you stick around for that, and of course,
if you love what we do and want to support
us Weeklyspooky dot com slash Join is the place to go.
(02:09):
But now it's time to get ready for a very special,
terrifying New Year's tale cooked up from the twisted mind
of Dan Wilder. So scoot closer to the fire. Tonight's
story starts the way a lot of bad ideas do
Two idiots one summer afternoon and music turned up way
(02:33):
too loud. But what if the noise didn't just annoy
the neighbors. What if it tore the air open like
a seam, splitting just wide enough to reach inside and
grab something from another time. And what if years later
(02:54):
you use that same trick to reach the one thing
you miss most, only to step through and realize you
didn't go back to fix your life. You went back
to break the world. Because when the clock crawls towards
midnight on New Year's Eve, some doors should stay shut,
(03:19):
because once they're opened, they never ever close. Saint Jimmy
by Dan Wilder. When I was sixteen, I discovered a
(03:43):
shocking truth that changed the course of my entire life.
Dramatic enough for you, Well, what comes next will either
have you ignoring me as a crackpot or and this
is what I hope my words. So what am I
(04:03):
talking about? Time travel? Of course, it went a little
something like this. It was summer and my cousin Philip,
and I were sitting pullside, listening to tunes and having
a chill time until someone didn't like whatever hair metal
masterpiece we were playing and decided to counterattack with their
(04:27):
own radio a few houses away. I looked up, and
at that moment, as the sonic waves collided, I saw
it a shimmer, a slight disturbance, as if in a trance.
I walked over to the phenomena. Upon further examination, it
(04:49):
looked like a hazy tear in the afternoon air. And
being both young and naive, I did what anyone want,
I have realized was a monumentally shitty idea. I shoved
my hand in there. I could feel something in my grasp,
(05:10):
something soft, something artificial. I pulled out an inflatable beach
ball adorned with a large Ghostbuster's logo, before the portal
snapped shut as my cousin, who had now seen me
standing a distance away, clicked off the radio. Hey, numb nuts,
(05:34):
what are you doing? Over there. I couldn't really say.
It made no sense, and the words failed me. So
I just held up the ball and showed my cousin
with a look of bewilderment on my face. As he
sauntered over to me, he offered his usual wisdom, Are
(05:56):
you just gonna play with your balls all day? Or
are we going backside? I held the ball fourth like
a talisman. That's when my cousin snatched the orb and
he went from grinning to shock that ball It can't
be His confusion did little to bring me out of
(06:20):
my stupor. Let me see that. He grabbed the ball
and examined it like a jeweler inspecting a rare stone.
I gave this ball to my friend Jeff, Remember Jeff, Yeah,
I managed. I gave this to him the summer of
eighty five before he moved away, right where we're standing,
(06:47):
before he yeah, before he died. You're sure this is
the same ball. Philip rotated it, and sure enough, there
it was. Jeff. We'll be friends forever, even if your
dumb ass has to move, inscribed in silver sharpie on
(07:08):
the black vinyl. That was four years ago. But look,
Philip ran his fingers over the metallic ink, causing it
to smear. The writing is still fresh. I explained where
the ball had come from with a deep sigh, ready
(07:29):
for Philip to let me have it for being both
a liar and some sort of smart ass show me.
He said, Oh okay, I said, before realizing I had
zero fucking clue how to go about that. In Philip's defense,
(07:50):
he immediately believed me, and for the next decade he
was patient. After I tried every experiment to recreate the incident,
the first thing I discovered was both the importance of
the music's tone and the exact distance between the conflicting
tones that would result in a time rip. Honestly, it
(08:14):
wasn't complicated, didn't require any math or some fancy Victorian
fuck chair or fancy car. It was all sound, and
the ease of its use revealed why people had never
figured out its secret. You can always count on a
smart motherfucker to overcomplicate things, though, to be fair, exact
(08:37):
precision placement is key. Oh and I can just feel
when the vibration is about right in my inner ear. Anyhow,
we could pull all sorts of shit out of there,
and it changed depending on where we opened up the void,
missing keys, mismatched socks, day cards. It was that last
(09:02):
one that became important. My parents died about five years
into this whole affair, and when I pulled that fucking
card out, every bit of sorrow and loss washed over
me in waves that became short lived. When Philip interjected
(09:25):
we should try and contact them, it seemed so right.
I'd be able to hear them one more time, tell
them I love them one more time. A few diagrams,
a little experimenting, and an extra phone, and we were
off to the races. Finally, I thought I had it.
(09:47):
Two phones in this case, we were using the classic
Garfield model and one of those see through numbers like
the one in the Guns N' Roses patience video. I
dialed the number nervous, a number I had called one
hundred times. It rang and rang and rang. Maybe it
(10:11):
won't work this way phones and all suddenly someone picked
up on the other end. Hello. It was unmistakably my
mother's voice. The tears started and didn't stop. I miss
you and Dad. Jimmy, Yeah, it's me, it's me. Static
(10:38):
buzzed Jimmy, Jimmy. The line went dead. That fucking sealed
the deal, that's for sure. If I could hear them,
I knew I could see them again. Just a few
more tweaks make that hole a little bigger. We had
(11:09):
set up shop at the school across from where my
parents had lived, a house that had been boarded up
for years, as I just couldn't bear to sell it,
but I sure as shit couldn't live there. Due to
it being Christmas break, it was a real ghost town.
And as soon as we picked the lock on the
(11:29):
cafeteria service door and slipped inside, we set up our
amplifiers and boom boxes and got down to fucking brass tacks.
Philip had managed to score a camcorder and shit from
the electronics store he worked at, and as he calibrated
it or jammed a tape inside it or some such shit,
(11:53):
I got to work on how to make that hole bigger.
As before the exact tones were what were key, and soon,
with guitars screaming and drums pounding, I got those signals
to match, and boom a bigger hole. I swallowed hard,
(12:14):
Wish me luck, I grabbed the camcorder and walked towards
the sparkling gash in the universe, Good luck, dumbass. I
stepped in and my head exploded with light and sound.
When my senses returned, I realized where I was, exactly
(12:37):
where I had stepped in, But no amps, no fillip,
just an angry, glowing hole and a calendar on the
wall that read nineteen eighty nine instead of nineteen ninety
nine as it should. The school was equally abandoned, and
(12:58):
I soon exited and entered parking lot. Snow was beginning
to fall in large flakes as I trudged across the
street to my parents' house under a full moon. No
lights on Dad's truck, not in the driveway. Great, I
picked the rare night they actually went somewhere. I made
(13:21):
my way up the driveway and unlocked the front door
with the key I still kept on my keychain. I
entered the house, and even in the dark, I could
tell that it looked exactly as it had a decade ago.
It even smelled the same, like warm coffee and smokes,
(13:41):
which you wouldn't think would be nostalgic, but totally was.
Lights flashed outside as a car drove up the driveway.
Definitely not Dad. He was a back ind to the
driveway parking zelot. It then hit me, what would a
(14:01):
ten years older version of myself be doing in my
parents house. That may be hard to explain. Maybe I
don't look that different. Maybe I can just pretend to
be me. I hid in the seldom used downstairs closet
(14:23):
and peeked out of the slightly ajar door to get
a sense of who was coming home. The headlights retreated
as the door opened, and the kitchen light switch was
turned on, And there I was. Fuck nineteen eighty nine
Me looked young. Nineteen ninety nine. Me was already overly
(14:48):
tired even in my mid twenties. Oh crap, I remember
this night. I just got back from National Lampoon's Christmas vacation. Yep,
there's the popcorn bucket. I'm still eating from butter soaked
kernels with sour sweet spree candy mixed in going into
(15:10):
my open gob with wild abandon. Be careful, my dude,
that shit is already catching up with me. Philip's older
sister drove us not important, but definitely part of the
fond memory slash dopamine hit mixed with deja vus. For me,
at least, that sets the tone for this whole sordid shebang.
(15:34):
Did I mention that the closet was just off the kitchen,
Well it was, and I gasped as I opened the
fridge just inches away from where I was hiding, and
poured myself a large glass of unsweetened iced tea, then
sauntered off to play some Nintendo and masturbate a classic
(15:56):
late eighties Jimmy Knight. I remained in the closet, dizzy
from the re experience waves of nausea, swaying to and
fro Okay, maybe I should have thought out a little
more what I would do when I got here, but
it's too late to deal with that now, which seems
(16:16):
ironic given what we're dealing with here. I needed to
get back to the school and think things over. Should
be easy, peasy, given that I'm currently distracted upstairs. I
exited the closet with Ninja level stealth, which means I
only knocked a minimum amount of shit everywhere as I
(16:37):
awkwardly stumbled out, only to see the familiar red lights
of my dad backing up the driveway. This was supposed
to be sweet and emotional. Now it's an exercise in terror. Wait,
I got it, my parents stepped into the kitchen and
(17:01):
I hugged them tightly. My ruse was flawless. Upstairs, me
couldn't care less that his parents were home, so he
was set, and I had pulled the hood of my
sweatshirt over my head so as to disguise the fact
I had a completely different haircut and had put on
a solid fifteen pounds since they left earlier. My dad,
(17:25):
whom I'd never hugged a day in my life, seemed shocked,
but my mother seemed to enjoy the sudden affectionate outburst.
Only the phone ringing brought the picture perfect moment to
an end, and of course it was my dumb ass
on the other end, calling from the future. Well you've
(17:54):
already heard the call, but now my parents turned to
look at me strangely. Who was that? I asked sheepishly.
It it sounded like you, my mother responded, confused as fuck.
I broke out into a bit of the old unconvincing
(18:15):
laughter and offered that, damn Philip, his pranks never end.
I shot glances to my parents to see if they
bought that one. Confusion continued to rule the room. Well
I better head out, Where are you going an innocent question,
but really really not needed At the moment. Before I
(18:41):
could answer my mother, I heard the floorboards creak above
the kitchen, right where my room was located. What the
hell was I going to do? Now? If I walked
down those stairs and popped into the kitchen to find
me talking to my parents, shit would decidely head south
(19:01):
quicker than it already was. And as if on que
down I came to say I panicked would be an understatement.
My dad turned and saw me entering the kitchen where
I was currently standing. Brains were starting to break, mostly mine,
(19:24):
so I did the only thing I could. I ran
up to myself and planted a huge kiss on my
own lips. Look, we all react to stress differently. Also,
this was an incredibly sucky decision. Our lips collided, and
(19:44):
time and space unraveled around me, both of me technically,
and as each bizarre iteration of reality danced past my eyes,
I mercifully lost consciousness. As a large animal roar sounded
far in the distance. I woke up at the school.
(20:09):
Philip was frantically trying to drag me out of there.
Everything was hazy until we arrived at Philip's apartment anyway,
a cup of coffee in hand, we began to fill
each other in as best we could. How long was
I gone? A week? A whole fucking week. I kept
(20:32):
going back to check for you, but there was no
sign until today. What day is it? New Year's Eve?
Not that that's important. Tell me what went on? Did
you see them your parents? I sure did? Details well.
(20:53):
I hid in a closet, hugged my parents and kissed
myself on the lips. It's great. Wait what I confronted
myself and it was all I could think to do.
That's all you could think to do. Yeah, it was
a stressful day. So how were you? How was I? Yeah?
(21:19):
As a kisser, good form, soft lips. Are you getting
off on this?
Speaker 3 (21:25):
What?
Speaker 1 (21:26):
No? Hell? No, I was pretty good. I knew it
the fuck you mean? You knew it? Nothing? Thinking out loud?
What happened next? You know, a total falling apart of
reality and maybe a monstrous growl or two, and then
you came through a week later? Apparently? Do you think
(21:51):
you fucked anything up? What do you mean, like? Did
you break some sort of time travel law or something?
When pass in future? You locked lips? How the hell?
Do I know. I'm just some motherfucker that discovered he
could fuck with time because White Snake and Rat were
cranked up to the nines. Fair point. What's next? What's next?
(22:17):
There is no next mission? Complete. Now we grab some
eggnog and watch the ball drop. We can't stop now
it worked. You sent yourself back in time. Imagine what
we could see, what we could experience. We can stop
at the wei part. It's my ass going through those portals.
(22:41):
It's that bad of an experience, honestly, No minus that
trip back. So let's do it again. Not sold, my dude.
Maybe in the New Year. Well, if the computers all
go tits up come twelve oh one, we may need
to beat a rich I read anyway, that's just media bullshit.
(23:04):
I'm sure a computer can handle a fucking zero. Besides,
isn't like it already two thousand in Australia. Switch on
the tube. I bet things are solid down under as predicted.
The news showed New Year's Eve going down without a
hitch in various locales. See no problem, turn it over
(23:26):
to the ball for a fraction of a second. The
apartment seemed different, heavily fortified, but Dick Clark distracted me,
or the lack of him. Turns out they weren't doing
the televised ball drop in favor of some y two
(23:48):
K flavored news bullshit? Is there a three Stooges marathon
on or something? Philip began cycling through the stations before
find the anticipated hilarious violence. Ah, there it is, Moe
grinding a handsaw across Curly's bald head, metal teeth flying
(24:10):
from the blade. I laughed, Philip laughed. A commercial broke
in for some y two K preparedness video hosted by Spock,
of all people, we laughed at that too, until a
sweaty Peter Jennings interrupted our slap happy good times. What
(24:31):
I'm about to report to you is unbelievable, but it
is happening. The camera pulled out slightly, revealing a skeletal
arm holding a knife threatening the revered news anchor. An invasion,
A surreal invasion is taking place. Creatures, monsters. The feed
(24:57):
went to static before revealing a reptilian face, cobalt blue
and toothy filling the frame. The figure leaned back, revealing
a t Rex clad in a leather get up with
a World War II Nazi helmet, balancing on its nightmare noggin.
(25:19):
Before the dinosaur even uttered a word, I realized just
how much I fucked up. The t rex shifted on
his throne, constructed of mangled cars and bones, and cleared
its throat, which was a fever dream in and of itself.
Philip looked at me sternly. All I could do was shrug.
(25:44):
People of timeline one eight eight zero eight seven to
two hear me.
Speaker 4 (25:51):
I Caligula Khan, the hero of the Battle of zerth six,
God of the Compsognathus, order of exileiastic shit sharpshooters, principle
of Miss Mary's Home for Wayward Girls, and all around
draconian leader have arrived here to expand my dominion. We
(26:12):
sat open mouthed. You will bow before my leather daddy
bone boys, and turn yourselves into your local reassignment center
following this very broadcast. There you will receive further instructions
A fast moving list of addresses scrolled before returning to
(26:34):
Caligula Khan. Also, unauthorized music played at loud volume is
hereby for boten shit. I think he's on to us now.
Credit where credit is due. None of this would be
possible without the help of my Chrono Lost Romeo buddy
(26:57):
Saint Jimmy behind Khan a giant banner unfurled, revealing a
portrait of myself adorned in saintly attire. My lips were
full and deep, Crimson, and I was preparing to suck
my own dick. Brilliant phillips glare intensified.
Speaker 3 (27:19):
What well.
Speaker 1 (27:21):
I hope you enjoyed that smooch, because your foreplay is
going to end in all of us getting fucked. Oh yeah,
I totally planned this knock it off, but you did it.
It was kind of virgin territory. There isn't an instruction
manual for something that shouldn't exist outside of a rerun
(27:42):
of Doctor Fucking Who. How are you going to fix it?
Now that I've unleashed Godzilla Hitler on the world, it's
you and not we. Huh, that's right, Philip, phil Philly
Cheese Steak. Come on, I'm probably going to need some
assistance if I'm going to save our reality and all well,
(28:06):
count me out. This is all way too much. I
need to clear my head. And with that, Philip exited
stage left and straight into the gentle embrace of Khan's
leather fetish skeletons. This was rapidly getting out of hand.
(28:27):
I sat in Philip's apartment and thought things through, which
was a clear mistake given the absolute lunatic asylum nature
of the biz at hand. The image of that banner
kept coming back to haunt my thoughts. Then it occurred
to me step one should be to lean into that shit.
(28:49):
A thought pounded its way into my mind with that
old deja vus. I grabbed a bag of powdered sugar
that freaky phil liked to use in his morning coffee,
mostly because I just couldn't help myself. Like Philip, I
brazenly strolled from the apartment to the street below. But
as with a lot of things, results may vary. I
(29:14):
hit the streets, but any skeletal forces I encountered, went
down on one knee and made an exaggerated blowjob motion,
but it was more station of the cross rather than
mocking wise assery. Plan. I need a plan, I repeated
in a hushed sing song tone. Skeletons, people screaming, whispered
(29:40):
curses wished upon me. None of this was helping. Obviously,
more time travel was going to be the answer, but
blasting hair metal would attract the ire of those bonehead
bastards lickety freakin' split. So I walked and I thought
until a glove skeletal hand fell on my shoulder from behind.
(30:04):
The being spoke, but a giant ball gag prevented any
words from being remotely intelligible. Sorry, pal, no comprende, it
mumbled a few more times. I pointed towards the gag,
which the skeleton removed with a wet pop that defied
(30:25):
logic given the creature's lack of saliva. Jimmy, who's asking?
Technically me, skeleton five six seven eight? What's your name? Basically?
I mean, as far as this occupation is concerned, it's
so informal. I agree. Do you have like a first
(30:48):
and last name or is it just mister five six
seven eight Oliver? What my name is? Oliver? Do you
have a last name? Close off, Oliver, clothes off. You've
gotta be fucking with me, No, that is forbidden. Only
Saint Jimmy may fornicate with Saint Jimmy. The regret over
(31:11):
this conversation was beginning to surge like a mighty river
rolling my eyes. I hesitantly asked, Okay, Oliver, what can
I do for you? The Great Kahn requests an audience
with you? Of course he does, But isn't he in Manhattan?
(31:32):
That's like three hours from here, and I don't have
any wheels, my man. Two more skeletons joined the first,
carrying boomboxes and kneeled. They played an unholy amalgamation of
Celine Dion and Mariah Carey, which opened a vivid lavender
hole that Oliver shoved me into without warning. I crash
(32:03):
landed hard before the t rex is thrown, as I
had a thought, Shit, the tones can be used for
spontaneous teleportation. That one never occurred to me. Saint Jimmy
in the flesh, Praise be the dinosaur hissed, Praise be
(32:27):
the skeleton throng in attendance, repeated reverently. So what can
I do for you? Not a hell of a lot
besides what you've already done. Great. Well, Uh, you're welcome.
Guess I'll be moseying along, not so fast. I'd be
(32:49):
honored if you'd be my guest here. Guest, Yeah, guest
like feasts and shit? Sounds cool? But what's the catch? No, catch. Okay,
I'm game. Do you have like a table or some
shit we can gnawsh around? Indeed, I do. Con rose
(33:13):
from his throne and removed his helmet, revealing a jade
green mohawk equal parts hair and feathers. He shook his
punk rock mane with wild abandon and gestured towards a
giant blood red curtain, which fell to reveal a long
wooden table, the far end of which ended in a cage.
(33:37):
Let me guess I'm sitting at the kid's table. I spat,
gesturing towards the seat inside the cage. It's just a
precaution in case you have any designs on pissing on
my parade and all, I wouldn't dream of it. I
(33:58):
would hence the ounce of prevention. Caligula Khan motion towards
the cage, and I obliged. The courses came fast and furious,
and I have to admit the banquet was choice. What
exactly is your plan for all this? I asked, through
(34:19):
chicken grease smeared lips. Not much, really, just a little
shift in the ruling class, turn a couple million folks
into skeletons under my sway, Just a Tuesday, really and
my part in this your Tiger Beat cover material baby
(34:39):
a pretty relatable human face to soothe and rally the masses.
So a traitor to the human race, but cute. Basically
I can live with that, I lied, taking another bite
of roast chicken. Excellent. Now let's begin the night's entertainment.
(35:03):
Pyro and screeching guitars heralded the arrival of both Whitesnake
and Rat with a sizeable portion of original members. The
guitars grew quiet, and the performance began with both bands
whisper singing a collection of their respective greatest hits. Shit
(35:26):
this as Lips was definitely hitting all the right notes
to get my attention while simultaneously assuring no time Shenanigans
would fuck up his Christmas, so to speak. It was
then I remembered my stash from Philip's place. Rat Stephen
Parsy came close, crooning way cool, Junior, and I held
(35:49):
aloft my magic bag and said, by the power of cocaine,
you shall sing louder kind of anyway. It a hey, kids,
drugs play louder and don't let Satan's minions know about it,
and you'll get your booger candy directly, and by the
time they realized that the Columbian gold was actually overprocessed sugar,
(36:14):
I'd be balls deep in the time stream words spread
fast among the performers assembled that Saint Jimmy was holding
and he'd give it up for maximum strength rock and roll.
Each band tore through hit after hit, each song getting
progressively louder, until I finally caught glimpse of that sparkling
(36:36):
portal right inside my prison. And when Khan was distracted
by an errand piece of meat lodged between two of
his copious teeth, I made my move and tipped right
into the gateway. As that fabric tour, I could have
sworn that rat was comprised of human sized hair metal rodents.
(37:04):
I emerged in nineteen eighty nine Manhattan with no plan
and no clue, which admittedly was right on brand, but
at the very least there was no t Rex overlords
or kinky skeletons. Maybe, with things said at least somewhat
back to normal, maybe I could attempt to sort this
(37:27):
mess out. As I walked through Times Square, I quickly
learned that the mess was much deeper than I thought.
For starters. Every neon drenched billboard that featured a human
form was off by quite a large margin, as every
actor or brand spokesmodel was now in anthropomorphic feline. Fuck
(37:55):
I hope real rat based rat never ends up here
passed a sign for the hot Broadway musical Humans, which
featured catfolk in flashy costumes and makeup to make them
appear as Homo sapiens. I pulled my hood tight over
my face because that worked aces last time. But admittedly
(38:20):
that's all I had at the moment until genius struck.
Maybe I could go a bit sideways, end up in
summer of nineteen eighty nine and stop myself from making
this discovery in the first place. Technically I had all
the time in the world to work on this little
(38:41):
brain teaser. Long story longer. I hid out in cat
Haattan and worked on finding tones that could send me
where I needed to go. I had help, of course,
including faithful Fluffy Perhams, a long haired Persian cat with
(39:03):
an innate aptitude for time travel. And as Fluffy licked
his hand slash pause and wished me adieu, I stepped
into the shimmering void and hoped for the best. I
emerged behind a bush in Philip's backyard. There we were
(39:25):
just lounging by the pool, stuffing our faces with cool
Ranch Doritos music blaring. This was going to require cracker
jack timing, but that fucking radio is going to get
turned down and prevent this horse crap from becoming a reality.
I stealthed my way around the deck until I was
(39:48):
positioned behind the radio and out of sight. I reached
up to turn it off. What the fuck? Who's down there?
Philip exclaimed? Before I knew it, Philip and I were
looking down at me from the deck. Dude, he looks
just like you, but like older time comes for us
(40:12):
all ass lips, I spat back. He sounds like you too.
I reached into my hoodie in the desperate hope to
find a distraction, but came up empty. Desperate times indeed,
then it hit me, holy shit, guys, is that Kelly
(40:33):
Bundy and those dipshits actually looked. I grabbed the radio
and booked it across the yard. I could hear Philip
angrily discover my Christina Applegate centric ruse. I ran further
almost to the back gate, and then out on the streets.
(40:54):
I ducked into a neighbor's shed and caught my breath.
The deep laughter came soon, pure relief over a situation
well and truly avoided. I must have sat in there
for a half hour, wallowing in my success. Finally I
gathered myself and peeked out of the shed to check
(41:16):
if the coast was clear.
Speaker 3 (41:18):
Shit.
Speaker 1 (41:20):
The entire yard was filled with leather clad skeletons. I
shut the door quietly. What the hell I took the
damn radio, I thought. The air and the shed filled
with the heady aroma of catnip and burning ozone. A
(41:41):
portal opened and Fluffy emerged in full military regalia, and
he was flocked by other hard ass cats, as well
as at least five different versions of myself. I messed up,
huh in a way, But there's there's no time to explain.
(42:01):
We need to go, and off I went to try
and firefight countless variables across time with an army of
cat people and me, Well, my spookys, the year has
(42:27):
come to a close. I know it wasn't a very
easy year for many of you, but I'm so honored
that this podcast, this little simple desire to feel like
Halloween all year long, a desire felt by myself and
a group of very talented authors could become a part
(42:52):
of that year for you. I know there's a lot
of new people listening, a lot of people who joined
us in our sober and decided to stick around through
the holidays. So I just want to say thank you
from the bottom of my heart. I'm so honored to
entertain you and to bring you all of these wild
(43:14):
and wonderful and creepy stories from so many different authors,
to bring you terrifying in true episodes about folklore and
true crime that fascinates me and can fascinate you. This
show is, in many many ways a dream come true
as a young man, as a little kid.
Speaker 3 (43:35):
Who just loved Halloween so much because it felt like home.
Now I get to celebrate it multiple times a week
with all of you. And it's because of all of
you that I can keep doing it, and I can
keep bringing you new types of content, new little shows
like this Week in Horror History, cutting deep into horror
(43:58):
and so.
Speaker 1 (43:58):
On and so forth.
Speaker 3 (44:00):
It's an incredible, incredible thing to behold. I moved deeply
by it. So thank you all so much for joining us,
for listening for sharing a little bit of your spooky
side with us. That's all I have to say. No
sales pitch, no run down of anywhere you need to
(44:23):
go or things you need to do for me. You've
already done more than enough, So now I'm going to
take a much needed break because I publish damn near
every day since October, and I'll be back soon to
be the voice of your spooky fun. Thank you and
Happy New Year.
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