Riley and Evelyn’s attempts to summon a Dullahan, and correct one of Riley’s more egregious middle school mistakes, backfires when they accidentally summon an incubus instead. Still, can they make the best of it?

+Transcript

Riley: Listen closely, and turn up your volume if you have to.

SOUND: Evelyn grunting in the background. A slow scraping noise.

Riley: That’s the sound of Evelyn, trying to move a book across the floor with her Poltergeist powers. She's really improving - and I should know, because she's been doing it non-stop for the last TWO FUCKING DAYS! [Beat] Oh shit, I hope you still didn't have your volume turned up.

Evelyn: It wouldn’t have gone on for two days if SOMEONE didn’t keep resetting my progress!

Riley: I DON’T LIKE PEOPLE TOUCHING MY THINGS!

Evelyn: I’m not touching. Look!

SOUND: More scraping.

Evelyn: See?

Riley: Well, actually!

SOUND: Pages flipping.

Riley: According to this dictionary: “Touching” implies that it’s being done with hands, feet, or an implement.

Evelyn: Exactly! No hands! And I don't even have feet.

Riley: I think ghost powers count as an implement, Ev.

Evelyn: Well I don’t, so I guess we’re even.

SOUND: More scraping.

Riley: Look! You're scuffing up the dust-jacket--

SOUND: Book hits a table.

Riley: [sigh] Listeners, if you don’t have your volume turned back down by now, it’s your own fault.

Evelyn: Look, Riley! I did it! I really did it! I made it to the table!

SOUND: Riley walks over, picks up book.

Riley: All you've done is ruin my copy of… [to themself] Oh no.

Evelyn: “Horses, Demons, and Horse Demons - Dark Arts for the Horse Lover” [Amazed] Where has this been all my death?

Riley: I can’t believe I haven’t eaten this yet.

Evelyn: Why would you want to? It’s beautiful!

Riley: Lemme read you the blurb on the back. [Clears Throat] “Some love horses, some love the ancient traditions of the Pagans. You? Love BOTH. This is the book for you.” Ugh.

Evelyn: Short, sweet, and to the point. Love it.

SOUND: Flicking through.

Riley: [Trying to hide embarrassment] Okay, before you laugh, I just want to make it perfectly clear that this was back in middle school. I’m not into this stuff anymore, and the kid I cursed with it now has a perpetual Dullahan following him until the book is destroyed.

Evelyn: What!? And you've never called it off?

Riley: I kept forgetting to. He was a dick, anyway, so he probably deserved the seventeen years of torment.

Evelyn: Seventeen years?! What did he do?

Riley: He started a rumor that I eat garbage.

Evelyn: Well… did you?

Riley: I mean yeah, but I don’t like people talking about it. How would you like people talking about what you eat?

Evelyn: I don’t eat anymore.

Riley: And you always complain when I remind you of that fact.

Evelyn: I can't believe you cursed somebody in middle school.

Riley: I was the typical occultist kid. Are you really that surprised?

Evelyn: Not surprised, just disappointed.

Riley: [genuinely surprised] Wait, you had expectations?

Evelyn:… I mean…I guess I have more expectations for Now-Riley than Past-Riley.

Riley: Past-Riley was an asshole. They're responsible for all the bullshit Present-Riley has to deal with - haunting included.

Evelyn: What else did Past-Riley do?

Riley: Got me suspended a lot.

Evelyn: Why? Cause you were…

Riley: Don’t say it...

Evelyn: Too Ghoul for School?

Riley: No, cause Past-Riley thought it'd be a good idea to eat the class pet. Ten consecutive times. [quietly] So many guinea pigs.

Evelyn: Wow, now I regret asking.

Riley: My intention with every answer is to stop people asking me more questions. Glad it's working.

Evelyn: Back to the topic at hand: We need to free that kid you cursed. But I’d hate to destroy a whole book because of ONE Dullahan.

SOUND: Flipping pages.

Evelyn: Is there any way to maybe summon him here?

Riley: And what, ask him nicely to stop?

Evelyn: Yes?

Riley: Well, if you’re on this bullshit now, I might as well help. Instead of flipping mindlessly, you COULD check the table of contents first.

Evelyn: Oh, right!

SOUND: More page flipping.

Evelyn: Here it is! “How To Summon A Dullahan”. What you need: Chalk, 5 candles, 1 horseshoe, 1... “human boner”?

Riley: Oh, uh, it says “bone”, but I was a dumb middle-schooler and doodled all over the book.

Evelyn: That explains all the penises in here. Anyway. 1 human BONE, some fresh Irish butter, 1 stick from a dead oak tree, and 1 pumpkin.

Riley: Okay so, aside from the human bone and candles, I don't have any of that. So, how about instead we use one of Brains Vincent’s heels, my half finished Mayo jar from the last episode, my mom’s vibrator, and uh… this rotten apple, I guess. Evelyn: [Concerned] Why did you take your mom’s vibrator?

Riley: Well. I’m not gonna use mine for a demonic ritual. I don't wanna get a haunted vagina on top of my haunted...everything else.

Evelyn: Fair. Those all seem like good substitutes.

Riley: I’m gonna pause the recording while we set this up.

SOUND: Riley shuffles. Laptop is turned off. Silence for a couple seconds, and we’re back.

Evelyn: And we’re back! To catch you all up, we’ve drawn a pentagram on the floor with some duct tape, lit the emergency candles, and placed all the things in the… star points? Is that what you call them?

Riley: Irrelevant. We need to start chanting if we want the Dullahan summoned before he starts his night ride. Evelyn: Oops, you’re right.

Riley and Evelyn: “By the light of the setting sun, we offer ourselves as brides to the Almighty Lord of Darkness. We summon you here to grant our wish. Come before us now, and bind this entity to our will.”

SOUND: Wind whirring around the room.

Riley: Wow, this takes me back.

Evelyn: Wait, are we actual brides of the Almighty Lord of Darkness now? I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of commitment.

Riley: I, uh, hope you weren't planning to get into heaven after we’re done.

Evelyn: Riley!

Riley: I’m kidding, I’m kidding...I think.

SOUND: Wind stops.

[BEAT.]

SOUND: Knocking on door.

Evelyn: I guess that’s him?

Riley: Last time I did this, he was a little more dramatic. [to the door] Come in.

SOUND: Door opens.

Fred: Someone call for a good time?

Riley: No, we called for a Dullahan. Who the fuck are you?

Evelyn: I love your sideburns!

Fred: I’m the incubus you summoned? And thank you, honey.

Evelyn: Sorry, we didn't summon an incubus. You were meant to be a headless horseman type.

Fred: You tried to summon a dullahan with a dildo and mayonnaise?

Riley: In hindsight, I’m surprised that summoned ANYTHING.

Evelyn: Okay Riley, change of plans, we’ll deal with the middle-schooler you condemned to nearly two decades of torment later. For now, we’ve got a guest.

Riley: Alright, I'm happy to have the focus taken off of my mistakes. I'm Riley, your best ghoulfriend, yadda yadda yadda. So you're a fuck demon?

Fred: Indeed. I’m guessing I’m not doing that here?

Evelyn: [Chipper] Correct! But we'd love to interview you for our podcast.

Fred: Oh lovely! I’ve never done that before! Well, unless the casting couch counts.

Riley: And I’m assuming you don't mean for acting, right?

Fred: Depends on who you ask.

Riley: [Annoyed] Okay folks, so this is the sex episode now, I guess. [sighs, sounding even more dead inside than usual] Cover the kids’ ears, pick a safe word, and lube up, it’s gonna get weird.

Evelyn: Yay!

---

Riley: So, Fred, the incubus, where are you from?

Fred: [matter of factly] Pennsylvania.

Evelyn: Huh. I expected you to come from Hell. No offence.

Fred: None taken. I think there’s a lot of misconceptions around demons, I don’t blame the confusion.

Riley: Care to elaborate?

Fred: Well, not all demons are from Hell; they’d run out of room down there. These days it's mostly reserved for the rich demons and Satan’s inner circle. And shit, I only just paid off my student loans.

Evelyn: How old are you?

Fred: Just turned 69.

Riley: Bullshit. And I'm guessing your birthday is on 4/20?

Fred: No, I’m serious! I’m 69 years old. The piercings probably make me look younger.

Riley: Younger? You look like a fucking twink, dude. 69 is retirement age for like, almost every other species.

Fred: I prefer the term “Twunk”, actually.

Riley: Is there a difference?

Fred: Twinks are soft, hunks are not, twunks are somewhere in between.

Evelyn: I didn’t even know there were names for all this stuff.

Riley: Poor, innocent child.

Evelyn: “Twink” just sounds like “twinkie,” and I’m not sure if that’s because they’re related or if I’m just missing being able to eat.

Fred: Well yeah, they’re soft and filled with cream, it’s exactly how they got the name.

Riley: Okay, gross. Let’s please move on. So, Fred, what do you do for a living?

Fred: I do others, mostly. But in between that I strip. I live most of my life without clothes on, is what I’m saying.

Evelyn: Honestly, if I looked like you, I would too.

Riley: Wait, I thought you were a lesbian?

Evelyn: I am, but I also have eyes.

Fred: Oh, speaking of lesbians, I have a crazy story for you.

Riley: I feel like I'm gonna have to bleep most of this, aren't I?

Fred: Probably. So, I was with this client and they’d just asked if I was cool with BBQ sauce on my --

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Fred: --and she realized it was the friendships she made along the way.

Evelyn: [Sniffling] Fred...that was beautiful…

Riley: I’m very uncomfortable.

Fred: I feel like I’ve been speaking too much. What about you guys?

Evelyn: [Crestfallen] Oh, uh, I don't have that many good stories, on account of being dead. My family was kinda conservative so I didn't really, you know, do much before I died.

Fred: Sounds to me that you’ve done at least some?

Evelyn: Well, yeah, some. But it was pretty mild.

Fred: Like kissing mild or backseat fingerblasting mild?

Evelyn: [Long pause] Fingerblasting.

Riley: “Fingerblasting” does not sound mild.

Fred: Were they a one-time deal or more of a relationship?

Evelyn: Well, I guess you could say me and Olivia were going steady. I think she kinda lost interest when my brains got smashed in by that stage light, though.

Fred: Hate when that happens.

Riley: Well, this got sad.

Fred: Have you tried getting with anyone else since your death?

Evelyn: I mean, I’m open to it, but the only two ghosts I've met are Bloody Mary and a pizza guy Riley killed.

Fred: No one in limbo caught your eye?

Evelyn: Fred, it’s like the least horny place you can possibly imagine.

Fred: I believe that if you try hard enough, any place has horny potential. Hell, I’m proud to say that I’ve even nailed Charon.

Evelyn: ...Plankton’s computer wife?

Fred: The boatman of the River Styx. Hung like a donkey, by the way.

Riley: Ew.

---

Fred: Alright, Riley, what’s your story?

Riley: There is no story. Just me and this basement.

Fred: So you’ve got NO ONE outside this room?

Riley: People are overrated.

Fred: So you’re asexual?

Riley: Why are you so interested?

Evelyn: It’s the topic of discussion, Riley. We both shared stories, it’s your turn now.

Riley: Okay, fine! But it'll probably bore you to tears.

Evelyn: Nothing this secret has ever been boring. That’s just science.

Riley: Dating sucks if you’re a ghoul. You can never tell who's into you for you, or who's just there for the brand, you know?

Fred: Ah, I get you. So you’re basically a walking fetish?

Evelyn: Uh, a what?

Riley: Yeah, pretty much! Weird skin, fangs, we eat people, I can do freaky shit with my body. I'm everything the internet wants to fuck.

Evelyn: Define “freaky stuff”?

Riley: I’m hyperflexible - meaning I can fit into a small suitcase, and most overhead compartments. I can unhinge my jaw and eat shit that's bigger than my head. And don’t even get me started on the shape--

Evelyn: Wait, and people are into all that?

Riley: People are into everything, Evelyn. You know, I used to go out back in my late teens, but I realized it wasn't for me when my last date unironically breathed the words “vore me, daddy” into my ear after a couple drinks. In that moment, my crotch became the Chernobyl exclusion zone.

Evelyn: What does that mean…?

Riley: Ask the Twitter followers. They'll tell you, cause I sure as shit don’t want to.

Fred: Okay, okay. Let me rephrase my earlier question: Ignoring your history, what are you actually into?

Riley: Cheese fries, conspiracy theories...

Fred: No, I mean, romantically.

Riley: [sighs] I don’t know… like… people? I can't predict when or why it's gonna happen, sometimes I just get crushes.

Evelyn: Aw, cute! Like the waiter at--

Riley: [firm, loud] WE DO NOT SPEAK OF HIM.

Fred: Hey, now. Not knowing what you like is perfectly fine!

Riley: Doesn’t that just make things more confusing?

Fred: If you really WANT to label yourself, you can do that too. All I’m saying is, for some, it’s a lot easier to go with the flow rather than sticking to a rule of "only this or that”. Whatever tickles your pickle, basically.

Riley: Labels are what corporations use to market useless bullshit at you. They're a tool of the enemy!

Evelyn: But they've got practical purposes, too!

Fred: Without labels, how would you know the difference between mayonnaise and a jar of horse cum?

Evelyn: That's really gross, but yes, exactly.

Riley: If you’re not interested in either mayonnaise or horse cum, then what’s the point of needing the distinction?

Evelyn: But Riley, you love drinking mayonnaise.

Riley: Not the point, Ev. It was metaphorical mayonnaise. And metaphorical horse cum.

Fred: Hey, Riley, nobody expects you to use any labels you're not comfortable with. No pressure here, my ghoul.

Riley: [grumbles] Whatever. Either way, I don’t need all that nonsense. I am unknowable and I don't give a fuck if that makes people uncomfortable.

Evelyn: [supportive, enthusiastic] It doesn’t make me uncomfortable!

Riley: I know, Ev. I appreciate it.

Fred: [genuine] Wow… a true learning moment. That was beautiful. I’m proud of you both.

Eveyln: Yay! Learning!

Riley: I don't feel like I've learned anything.

Evelyn: That’s because you were one of the teachers.

Riley: …Huh. Nice.

[Beat.]

Fred: Well, this sounds like a good stopping point. Was there anything else you lovely folks wanted from me before I take my leave?

Evelyn: Before you showed up, we were trying to summon the dullahan that Riley cursed on their old middle school friend.

Riley: Middle school ENEMY, thank you.

Fred: Hmm. I guess I could go out and get the remaining objects you were supposed to use.

Riley: Great idea! Here’s all the shit we need.

SOUND: Frantic scribbling. Tears page out of the book.

Evelyn: No! Riley, you’re hurting the book!

Riley: Think you can get all that?

Fred: Wait, you don’t need me to get you a human...human boner?

Riley: [Groans] I wish I could kick eleven-year-old me in the fucking throat. No! We’re all good on boners, thank you!

Fred: Okay, then I’m off.

SOUND: Woosh. Fred’s gone.

Evelyn: Isn’t it a little mean to send our guest off to run errands for us?

Riley: He offered. That was his first mistake.

SOUND: Woosh again. Fred’s back.

Fred: Alright, I got a horseshoe, a pumpkin, a dead oak stick, and I couldn’t find fresh irish butter so I went with store-bought.

Riley: Hopefully, he won’t care. Let’s hurry and set up the circle.

Evelyn: Riley, how did you find all this stuff when you were eleven?

Riley: Eh, I just asked my mom to buy it at the store.

Fred: You guys have any chalk?

Evelyn: We just used duct tape for you.

Fred: [scoffs, offended]

Riley: Can you use the same pentagram twice? Or is that considered gross, like sloppy seconds?

Fred: We don’t really mind. [to himself] Though we do appreciate people using better materials than duct tape.

SOUND: Woosh. Scraping noises.

Evelyn: Okay, we’re ready.

Riley: Wait, what?

Evelyn: Poltergeist powers! You two were just standing around talking.

Riley: Wow, way to flex on me, Evelyn. Why don't you just tell me I'm ugly and have no friends while you're at it?

Evelyn: You’ve got one friend! It’s me!

Riley: [Quietly] Not denying the ugly part. Noted.

Fred: Since I’m here, I can lead the chant. Might get him here sooner.

Evelyn: Because you’re a demon?

Fred: No, because I’m hot. And I know for a fact this dullahan is gay as fuck.

Riley: Alright, let’s do it.

Fred: By the light of the setting sun, I offer myself as bottom bitch to the Almighty Lord of Darkness. I summon Greg here to grant my wish. Come before us now, and bind him to my will.

SOUND: WOOSH! Greg is here. Horse neighs. Thunder cracks.

Greg: [wizard of Oz-like; Big Theatrical Villain dramatics] I am Greg, the Great and Powerful. I am the mighty Dullahan of the Americas. The Headless Horseman of your darkest nightmares. All tremble before me. Tell me your target and I shall smite them from the Earth.

Fred: Hey, Greg.

Greg: [normal] Oh, hey, Frederic. You’re here? I haven't seen you since college.

Fred: Yeah, I’m an incubus now! Glad to see you started that horse farm after all.

Greg: Well, that’s more of a side project, I Dullahan full-time.

Fred: Is that Melody? She’s grown up so fast!

Greg: Yeah! She’s still as strong as ever. Aren’t you, girl?

SOUND: Melody whinnies demonic horse noises.

Riley: Hey, not to interrupt this reunion here, but we did call Greg for a specific purpose.

Greg: Right, sorry, bound to your will, I get it. What's the dealio?

Evelyn: Riley cursed one of their middle-school friends for spreading a true rumour.

Riley: Look, it may have been true, but they spread it with bad intent!

Evelyn: We were wondering if we could call off the curse? He’s suffered for, what, seventeen years now? I think he's probably learned his lesson.

Greg: Which “he” are we talking about here? I get a lot of demonic haunting jobs.

Riley: Itchy Crane?

Greg: Well, you better scratch it, then! [laughs] I kid, I kid. I’ve been haunting him for almost two decades now. The most hi-larious screams, I tell you, such a mad lad.

Evelyn: Well, we want to ask you to maybe stop haunting him now?

Greg: What? No way! It’s the most bloody fun I’ve had in centuries! Hell, I’d do it even if I wasn't being paid.

Riley: Wow, sadistic much?

Evelyn: Riley, you cursed him! For nothing!

Riley: How many times do I have to tell you? He spread--

Fred: Guys, calm down. It’s my will he’s bound to here. [To Greg] Look, is there ANY way we could convince you to stop haunting this kid?

Greg: Sorry, mate - you know I love you, but I just can’t give this up! It’s quality! I've haunted a lot of people in my day, but this guy is something else. Tell me, have you ever seen anyone literally shit their pants from the same scare four hundred consecutive times? It's genuinely impressive. You should see it some time!

Fred: [Flirty] Greg, are you sure there’s NOTHING I could do to convince you out of haunting that poor, poor bastard?

Greg: I don't know when I'll ever land a gig this sweet again, Fred. It's nothing personal, really, but I just can't afford to lose this.

Fred: [Still flirty] But can you afford to lose this?

SOUND: Unzips pants.

Riley: Um.

Evelyn: [whispering to Riley] What’s happening?

Riley: [whispering back] I’m not… sure? But I hate it.

Greg: Sweet Satan. But Fred, it’s been so long…

Fred: I agree. We should get reacquainted.

Greg: Well, at least let me put Melody outside, and then we can...

SOUND: Shuffling towards the laptop.

Riley: That’s it, I’m pausing the recording before this turns into a fucking porno.

Evelyn: Please hurry. It’s getting Not Safe For Death!

SOUND: Recording stops. Pause for a couple seconds. We’re back. Riley shuffles away.

Riley: And we’re back after a… [clears throat] very weird three hours.

Evelyn: It was like a movie version of the Kama Sutra.

Greg: You think you two can keep it down over there? You’re killing my afterglow.

Fred: You know, we should do this more often. Maybe without needing to bind you to my will and constantly swearing my ass to Satan.

Greg: Yeah, I’d like that.

Fred: But only if you promise to stop harassing Itchy.

Greg: Who? Oh yeah, him. No worries. I’ll lay off.

Evelyn: Yay! Happy ending!

Greg: You know, it really was the best job of my career. Shame. But it's worth it for that dick. [Inhales on a cigarette]

Riley: How can you smoke that cigarette without a head!?

Greg: [Exhales] I can do LOTS of things without a head.

Riley: [groans loudly] Oh, we know, we watched all of them happen.

SOUND: Fred zips up his pants.

Fred: Y’know, no one told you to stay.

Riley: No, but I am telling you all to leave. It smells horrible in here.

Fred: You sure? I could clean all this up first.

Riley: If you can do it quickly, then yes please. Before anything stains.

Evelyn: I can help, too! I want more poltergeist practice.

Riley: Do you really? With that?

Greg: I suppose I might as well help, since I’m here.

Riley: Fuck it. Fine. Then you've all gotta leave.

SOUND: Cleaning noises.

Evelyn: Anybody got any Pledge?

Riley: Shit, we’re still recording!

SOUND: Riley shuffles to the laptop.

Riley: I’m gonna pause and wrap this shit up later.

Greg: Why are there so many bones in here?

SOUND: Riley turns off the recording. Then, after a moment, we’re back.

Riley: Okay, so, everyone’s gone now. Just me and Ev.

Evelyn: We’ve put away all the arcane summoning gear, and I’ve been reading some of the less satanic chapters of Horses, Demons, and Horse Demons. It’s such a page-turner.

Riley: And I’m evaluating whether I really know who I am.

Evelyn: Aw Riley, it’s okay, you don’t need to have yourself all figured out. I literally had to fill out surveys about myself for sixteen years, and I’ve got no idea what I’m about.

Riley: But you know what you want. I’m either hopelessly confused or obsessed with someone unattainable for an intense few months before it all fizzles out and I’m alone again.

Evelyn: I thought you liked being alone.

Riley: I do! But what if some day I don’t, and I get all fucked up about it and turn into Miss Havisham, wearing some crusty old wedding dress and abusing a little street urchin because he reminds me of the youth I’ve lost?

Evelyn: [Baffled] That’s so specific.

Riley: I know I can like people, it just, you know, doesn’t happen often. I dunno, it’s a fucking mess. I’m a fucking mess.

Evelyn: I don’t think that’s true, Riley, I know exactly who you are: you’re a funny, weird, interesting person with a lot of cool thoughts. The rest you can figure out later. Believe me - you’ve got an eternity.

Riley: [Softens] Thanks, Ev. I guess we’ve learned the true meaning of Fuckmas today.

Evelyn: Heck yeah, learning! That’s what I’m talking about!

SOUND: Rumbling, as Evelyn’s poltergeist powers mess with the room.

Riley: Uh, maybe calm it down there? You’re poltergeisting all over the room.

Evelyn: Oops. Sorry. Got a little carried away, I guess.

Riley: Jizzmas!

Evelyn: What!?

Riley: I should have said “the true meaning of Jizzmas.” God fucking damn it. We can’t even edit this shit!

Evelyn: Glad you’ve got your priorities back in order, Riles.

Riley: Just end the episode, I embarrassed myself enough today. Fuck!

[THE END]

Riley and Evelyn are locked in the basement while a storm rages outside. During this dark and stormy night, they’ll meet an old “friend”, and a new threat.

+Transcript

SOUND: Muffled rain fades in, accompanied by wind and general storm ambiance.

Riley: We’re recording. All systems are “Go.”

Evelyn: You sure you want to do this now?

Riley: If we die, I need a record of it. The people must know! If we don't, they're gonna assume the black ops did it, and those government stooges have enough on their plate without false assassination claims.

Evelyn: I was thinking more about the storm noises messing up the audio.

Riley: If people wanted audio quality, they'd listen to NPR and have to deal with their constant e-begging. The ride-or-dies will weather the storm for us, literally.

Evelyn: …I guess that’s fair. Maybe they'd beg less if the government funded them better.

Riley: The big wigs and fat cats have the government in their pockets. They'll take the NPR money and spend it on tanks for cops and surveillance cameras that can read minds, and the world becomes just that little bit more of a controlled, totalitarian nightmarescape.

Evelyn: [exasperated pause] … So, what’s the topic, Riles? Riley: I was thinking….

SOUND: Riley is cut off by the theme song.

Evelyn: I don’t know if that’s appropriate… Could we maybe try something else…?

Riley: [sighs] How about we all sit around braiding each others hair and talking about boys, then, huh?

Evelyn: We already did that, remember?

Riley: UGH. Alright, let's give the listeners some context, just in case this audio sounds like ass and they feel entitled to an explanation.

Evelyn: Right! Because we live in Florida, we’re currently in the midst of Hurricane Meldor!

Riley: You’re probably wondering: what's up with that name? Nobody’s called Meldor. Well, you’d be surprised. The cruelty of the parental class knows no limits.

Evelyn: Bet that makes you feel a little better about your mom.

Riley: You would think so, but no. Not at all.

Evelyn: Your next question is probably: Why did they give the hurricane such a weird name, anyway? I'll tell you, listeners: according to the National Academy of Sciences, hurricanes with feminine names have higher death rates, because people assume there's less of a threat and don't prepare as much.

Riley: And the patriarchy strikes again.

Evelyn: To combat this, the NOAA has decided, for any hurricanes hitting Florida, they'd give it an insanely threatening name to make sure people take it seriously.

Riley: Hurricane Meldor comes on the tail of Hurricane Face-Fucker, Hurricane Manson, Hurricane Cancer, and Hurricane ISIS.

Evelyn: I feel threatened by those and I’m already dead, so it must be working.

Riley: That’s why we’re presently hunkered down in the basement - as usual - except this time, there's a few key differences.

Evelyn: We’re holding hands!

Riley: No. DIFFERENCE ONE: Hand-crank battery charger to keep my laptop running without the need to depend on the stupid municipal grid. DIFFERENCE TWO: Several sharpened katanas from the mall to fend off any roving bands of pillagers who want our supplies during the storm. DIFFERENCE THREE: Enough canned tuna to last us between 3 months and 300 years, depending on how we ration it.

Evelyn: So, not the power of friendship?

Riley: That too, I guess.

Evelyn: The forecast only said the storm would last for a day or two, it's not exactly Mad Max. We can afford to chill out a little.

SOUND: Lightning strike outside.

Riley: Your first mistake is believing anything the weather forecast says. If they were all that prophetic, how come they didn't stop 9/11 from happening, huh?

Evelyn: That’s not how meteorology works, Riley.

Riley: Meteorology is bunk science invented by the deep state. It's all connected, Ev - global warming is a tool of the government meant to kill off all the bees, so they can replace the bees with pollinating camera drones! Why else wouldn't they do anything to stop such an otherwise easily preventable disaster?

Evelyn: They’re all old and like money a lot?

Riley: Too easy. Just a smokescreen. As if someone would put the entire planet in jeopardy for money.

Evelyn: Well… [noncommittal noise]

Riley: I've also packed an aqualung in case this is the big one and we’re kissing dry land goodbye, and then we’ll all need to face off against the armies of the Crab Lord. Which, incidentally, is why I bought this crossbow.

SOUND: Crossbow string being pulled tight.

Evelyn: Personally, I think the Crab Lord has some pretty good policies. Especially on gun control.

Riley: Which is why I got a crossbow rather than an AR-15. If he wins, he can't take it away from me.

Evelyn: Anything else on your crazy apocalyptic shopping list?

Riley: Well, other than that, it's mostly the essentials. Flashlights, water, Mystery-Flavored AirHeads. And, of course, I've got some emergency rations in the bathroom.

Teddy: [muffled by bathroom door] You still recording your radio show in there, Rie-Rie?

Riley: Yes, Dad, could you keep it down?

Teddy: [muffled by bathroom door] Okay!

Evelyn: Riley! You can't eat your dad!

Riley: Desperate times call for desperate measures, Evelyn! He's older and larger and therefore drains more finite resources than me.

Evelyn: Still, he's the nice one! What about your mom?

Riley: Mom went out to the store to get some industrial-strength eyelash curlers. Her old ones shattered when she tried to use them.

Evelyn: Isn't she worried about the storm?

Riley: [deadpan] It won't kill her. Nothing will. Believe me, I've tried.

Evelyn: [chipper] That’s concerning!

SOUND: Door slams open, the storm is louder and something solid tumbles to the floor. Windows slam shut and the storm is quiet once more.

Tiffany: Phew! I lived! I think that calls for a celebratory rip.

SOUND: Longest fucking bong rip ever.

Evelyn: How did she...?

Riley: … Tiffany…? What are you doing here?

SOUND: Finally the bong rip ends. Tiffany sighs.

Tiffany: Oh, sorry dude, do you want some?

Riley: No! I want you out of my house, pronto! You're stinking up the place.

Evelyn: People in glass basements, Riley...

Tiffany: But I just got here!

Evelyn: Ask why she’s here.

Riley: I’m about to.

Tiffany: Oh man, the goat is here too?

Riley: No, no, no, not again! This is the one apocalyptic contingency I didn't prepare for: Terminal stoner dipshittery.

SOUND: Tiffany takes a sip from her bong.

Evelyn: Oh my gosh, did she just...

Riley: Yep.

Tiffany: Bong juice, anyone? It's tangy.

Riley: Thanks, I hate that and I’d rather die.

Tiffany: Whatevs, more for me!

SOUND: Tiffany slurps again. Riley and Ev gag.

Riley: What the hell are you doing here, Tiffany? Shouldn't you be at Walmart?

Evelyn: Shouldn't she be at home?

Riley: No, Walmart only closes when the Pope’s in the country. It stays open during hurricanes so they can use employees like sandbags to protect the windows.

Evelyn: [genuinely mulling this over] … Huh. Walmart sucks.

Tiffany: Well, my shift ended and I had a reservation at the Chilli’s on Apache Parkway for my tinder date, and I wasn't just gonna let that reservation slide for some dumb rain.

Riley: There's gale-force winds out there. I think a car floated by a second ago.

SOUND: Faint “beep beep” from a car floating past.

Tiffany: Like that has ever stopped Tiffany.

Riley: Did you just refer to yourself in the third person?

Tiffany: I've been DMing this guy for days and he is hung. I refuse to give up on that.

Evelyn: Ooh, homegirl on a mission.

Riley: I respect your dedication but I cannot relate.

Tiffany: But, I guess that wasn't meant to be, so now I'm here. What are we drinking?

Riley: [sarcastic] Bong water, I guess.

Tiffany: Oh cool, a bong! I thought this was my phone. Wait, where's my phone? [beat] Shit, I must've smoked it again. That's my third this month.

Evelyn: Is she okay!?

Riley: What do you think?

Tiffany: I’m not really thinking anything at the moment. What about you?

Riley: [exhausted] For fuck’s sake, just come sit down, before you accidentally open the door and get us eaten by super-gators or some shit.

Tiffany: Cuuute! I’ve never seen a super-gator before.

Riley: That’s because they’re invisible to their prey until they strike.

Tiffany: That sounds like some government engineering shit…

Riley: I KNOW, RIGHT!? [beat] Wait, no, we’re not friends, just sit your ass down.

Tiffany: I think we’re friends.

SOUND: Riley and Tiffany sitting down.

Riley: You said earlier you don’t think, period.

Tiffany: I'm sorry, I'm too high for this. Just gotta sober up.

SOUND: Another bong rip.

Riley: No!

SOUND: Bong rip cuts off. Glass shatters.

Tiffany: Awww! My bong! It’s my only one shaped like a furby.

Evelyn: I have to admit, it was kinda cute...

Riley: You don't sober up by taking another bong rip!

Tiffany: [annoyed] Hair of the dog that bit me, jerk!

Riley: That’s not how it works!

Evelyn: Maybe we should just all take a chill pill.

Riley: She looks like she's taken enough already.

Tiffany: I'm not the one talking to an imaginary go--

Riley: DON’T.

SOUND: Muffled conversation in the background.

Tiffany: Who’s that?

Riley: That’ll be my dad. He’s watching sports on that mini, portable TV again.

SOUND: Riley opens the bathroom door. We can hear ambient sports broadcasting noises.

Teddy: Dang, that right there is some good sports. I wish I had someone to talk to about it.

Pizza Ghost Jon: Being dead sure is fun. I love not being able to join in on conversations aBOUT THE THIngS I LOVE.

SOUND: Riley closes the door. Muffled sports noises continue.

Tiffany: Your dad’s a DILF.

Riley: Never say that again or I will eat your tongue.

Evelyn: I can kinda get it. Sweet domestic men have their appeal, if you're into that kind of thing.

Riley: Most people aren’t.

Evelyn: Most people need to get over their preconceptions about masculinity.

Riley: Evelyn, first of all, you're gay, second of all, stop talking about my dad’s sex appeal, all of you!

Tiffany: The Goat’s name is Evelyn?

Riley: I WILL FUCKING END YOU, TIFFANY! And it will look like an accident!

Evelyn: Be patient with her! She’s trying…!

Riley: Yeah, my patience!

Tiffany: Is that a huge pile of tuna cans?

Riley: Yes. I'm preparing for the inevitable collapse of western civilisation. And also Hurricane Meldor.

Tiffany: Wow, you're really prepared.

Riley: Oh. Thanks. I try.

Evelyn: Wow, is this...progress?

Tiffany: Where's the meth?

Evelyn: And there it goes.

Riley: What!?

Tiffany: For Florida Man.

SOUND: Lightning strikes.

Riley: Florida Man?

SOUND: Lightning strikes.

Tiffany: Yeah, Florida Man.

SOUND: Lightning strikes.

Evelyn: What's with all the lightning?

Riley: Yeah, how come lightning keeps striking?

Tiffany: Oh, it happens when you say Florida Man.

SOUND: Lightning strikes.

Tiffany: It’s for dramatic effect.

Evelyn: Oh cool! Florida Man, Florida Man, Florida Man!

SOUND: Lightning strikes three times.

Riley: Everybody, stop saying Florida Man!

[Beat.]

Riley: How come it didn't strike that time?

Tiffany: It only does it the first seven times. After that, the joke gets kind of stale.

Evelyn: Why do we need the meth?

Riley: Evelyn’s asking why we need the meth.

Tiffany: Well, whenever there's a hurricane, Florida Man moves from home to home with the wind, collecting his tribute of one baggie of crank to ensure safety in the storm. Fuckin’ duh!

Riley: Shit! Of course, I knew I was forgetting something.

Evelyn: Dang it, Riley, you bought a DVD box set of every episode of Professor Huh in case SilverStream went down during the storm, but you forgot Florida Man’s meth!?

Riley: Stop berating me! I can’t remember everything!

Evelyn: You said you remember everything in episode one!

Riley: I don't remember saying that!

Tiffany: [happy, just wanting to join in] I don’t remember anything!

Evelyn: Where can we get meth on such short notice?

Riley: I don't know. The deep web? Shit, they won't deliver during the hurricane.

Tiffany: I think Amazon was doing a deal on meth.

Riley: Of course!

SOUND: Alexa activates.

Alexa: We can--

Riley: Fuck off, Alexa!

SOUND: Alexa deactivates.

Riley: This is a disaster. What does Florida Man do to you if you don't have his meth?

Tiffany: I'm not sure, nobody ever lives to share their stories.

Riley: FUCK!

Evelyn: Riley, panicking won't help.

Riley: You're already dead! Panicking helps me plenty!

Tiffany: I’m not dead.

Riley: NOT YOU! THE GOAT. I MEAN GHOST. FUCK!

SOUND: Thunder cracks. Generator dies.

Tiffany: He’s heeere!

Riley: Where’s the crank? Where's the fucking crank!?

Evelyn: We don’t have any!

Tiffany: I know a guy, but it may take a few days.

Riley: I meant for the generator, you goddamn morons!

SOUND: Creepy, wheezing chuckle of the Florida Man.

Florida Man: Did someone say meth?

Riley: Literally no one said meth.

Tiffany: But you did just now.

Florida Man: So no meth, then?

SOUND: Long silence. Only the muffled storm outside and Florida man’s uncomfortable heavy breathing can be heard.

Riley: Would you, by chance, prefer a can of tuna instead? I have a lot of it to spare.

SOUND: Thunder cracks.

Florida Man: Tuna’s too salty - and don't even get me started on the mercury! Are you trying to kill me!?

Evelyn: But… the meth--

Tiffany: Shhh! You can’t question Florida Man!

Riley: I didn't even think Florida Man existed until like ten seconds ago! I thought he was just one of those lies your parents tell you, like the Fang Fairy or trickle-down economics.

SOUND: Creepy Florida Man chuckle.

Florida Man: Oh, I'm real, baby. I'm really real. Every story you've heard is true - The twelve-car police chase where I stopped off at the Mickey D’s drive thru? True. The 18 foot banana I stole and tied to the top of a two-seat smart car? True.

Riley: Uh, I’m feeling very uncomf--

Florida Man: [interrupting Riley] Burned down an apartment complex because the landlord threatened to kick me out if I didn’t stop masturbating loudly to My Little Pony fan animations? The truest of all.

SOUND: Florida man’s creepy chuckle turns into a small wheezing sob.

Evelyn: Is he crying…?

Tiffany: It’s kinda hot.

Riley: So uh… is something going to happen, or are we all just going to stand around talking about whatever this is? Florida Man: Oh, right, thanks for reminding me. I'm gonna have to kill y’all.

Evelyn: Riley!

Florida Man: Okey-dokey-Okeechobee. So, how'd you wanna die? I can either infect you with these official Disney Parks-brand brain-eating amoebas , or I can throw you to the horde of military-grade cassowaries I keep in the back of my truck. I call ‘em Murder Turkeys.

Evelyn: I mean, I'm already dead, so none of this really applies to me.

Florida Man: Doesn't mean you're off the hook, little missy. I've trained my vape clouds to fight ghosts. It’s cherry flavoured!

SOUND: Florida Man vapes.

Evelyn: [Nervous] Oh no, this guy really means business.

Riley: We are so fucked.

Tiffany: Is there anything we can do to maybe not die, Mr. Florida Man?

Florida Man: ‘Fraid not, darlin’. But I am easily distracted, so you can probably stall for time.

Tiffany: But like… with what?

Florida Man: You could ask me about my past, my likes, my dislikes. My backstory might be a good start.

Riley: Wh--

Florida Man: Y’see, it all started when I was just a twinkle in my dad’s balls…

Tiffany: I like where this is going already.

Riley: Of course you do, Tiffany.

Florida Man: I was born on the back of a gator in the middle of a hurricane--

[WEIRD AD TIME]

SOUND: epic music

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[END OF WEIRD AD TIME]

Florida Man: … And that’s why you can’t eat sixty four packets of processed cheese while suffering from bird flu.

Riley: [sarcastic] Inspiring.

Evelyn: I did not follow any of that at all.

Tiffany: He just gets more and more interesting!

SOUND: Florida man claps his hands together. It’s uncomfortably moist sounding.

Florida Man: Welp! Talkin’s over! Time to kill y’all!

Tiffany: Aww fuck… and I didn’t even get to meet up with my tinder date.

Florida Man: Me neither, honey. It’s a tough, cruel, tough, cruel--

Riley: Tough?

Florida Man: --World.

Evelyn: Wait! I have an idea! What if we cook him some meth!

Riley: How?

Tiffany: How what?

Riley: Evelyn wants to cook him meth somehow.

Florida Man: Meth, y’say?

Evelyn: We do say! Right, Riles?

Riley: Uh, yeah. We just need to uh… Go to the bathroom. Make the preparations and all that…

Tiffany: I’ll stay here as collateral!

Riley: Great, you can be like our human damage deposit. Well, Evelyn, guess it’s time to cook - be right back.

Evelyn: Hopefully!

SOUND: Recording clicks off. Silence for a couple seconds.

SOUND: Recording clicking back on. Audio quality is echoey - they’re clearly in the bathroom.

Riley: [lowered voice] Okay, so we’re in the bathroom now. Say hi, everyone.

Pizza Ghost Jon: Sup.

Teddy: Hi, Riley’s little internet friends!

Riley: Cool. Now shut up for the rest of the episode.

Teddy: [small voice, disappointed] Aw...

Riley: So, how the hell are you planning on pulling this off, Hooper?

Evelyn: I wasn’t actually suggesting we cook meth! I’ve never even done a weed, Riley! Not a single weed! I was my highschool class’ D.A.R.E. ambassador!

Riley: Of course you were. So what now?

Evelyn: I was just trying to get us away from him for a while so we could think up a real plan.

Riley: Well, I mean… cooking meth doesn’t sound like such a bad idea…

Evelyn: Riley!

Riley: No no no, listen. It doesn’t have to be real meth.

Evelyn: … Go on.

Riley: We can make it out of random stuff around the bathroom. Like uhhh… This toothpaste and uhhh...

SOUND: Riley looking through the cabinets.

Pizza Ghost Jon: I can help--

SOUND: Riley knocking down random bottles.

Riley: [sounding distracted] Not now, Jon.

Pizza Ghost Jon: But I--

Riley: Jon, shut the fuck up! I'm trying to think!

Evelyn: Riley! C’mon, at least hear what he has to say!

SOUND: Riley sighing, exasperated.

Riley: [defeated] Okay, Jon, what do you want?

Pizza Ghost Jon: Before you killed me, I was a bored millennial with a dead-end job.

Riley: So?

Pizza Ghost Jon: What I’m saying is that I’ve watched all the episodes of Breaking Bad like, six times over. I can help you make it look like the real stuff.

Teddy: Riley, it’s just you and me in the room. Are you talking to your imaginary friends again?

Riley: [annoyed] Silence, father. I'm trying to save our lives!

Pizza Ghost Jon: All we need is…

Riley: Some of that blue shampoo, maybe?

Evelyn: Yeah, that’ll work!

Pizza Ghost Jon: …And some bath salts for texture. Maybe that tooth paste over there to stick it all together.

Evelyn: Yay! Teamwork! This is really coming together already!

Teddy: Can you maybe run what you’re doing by me one more time?

Riley: Making fake drugs. Try to keep up!

Teddy: Well. This isn’t an ideal situation, but it sure is fun that we’re doing some crafts together, eh, Rie-Rie? Some fun father-daughter together time? [Chuckles] Y’know, this reminds me of when you were just a little--

Riley: Shut up, Dad, this is a life or meth situation.

SOUND: Contents of medicine cabinet being shuffled around, clattering.

Riley: Okay, gang, does this look like crystal meth?

Evelyn: [chipper] I have no idea!

Pizza Ghost Jon: Close enough. It’s not Heisenberg quality, but I wasn’t expecting that anyway.

Teddy: You did so great, angel!

Riley: Alright… Ev, you ready?

Evelyn: I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, but…

Riley: Good. Let’s go.

SOUND: Door creaking open.

Riley: Hey, we got your meth-- [disgusted] Oh my god!

Evelyn: Well, I can never unsee this.

SOUND: Sloppy makeout noises.

Tiffany: [Tiffany pulls away with a loud pop, panting] I hope my tinder date doesn’t feel bad about this.

Florida Man: Me too. We were supposed to meet up at Chili’s.

Tiffany: Same! We had reservations at the Chilli’s on--

Florida Man: Apache Parkway?

Tiffany: [gasps] On the count of three, drop your pants, and I’ll lift up my shirt. One… Two...

Riley: What are we witnessing here. Why do strangers keep exposing themselves in my basement?

Tiffany: Three!

SOUND: Zip of Florida Man’s pants before they drop to the floor. Jangling of jewellery as Tiffany pulls up her shirt.

Tiffany & Florida Man: [together] IT IS YOU!

Riley: I hate this.

Florida Man: How about you and I blow this popsicle stand?

Tiffany: Uh, is the pope like… the pope? Let’s go!

Riley: Hey, wait, what about--

SOUND: Riley shaking baggie of “meth”.

Evelyn: Let it go, Riles.

Florida Man: Hey, don’t worry, you’ll see me again. It’s florida, after all!

SOUND: Epic speech music fades in.

Florida Man: I’m wherever there is true Floridian spirit to be found. Every time someone tosses an alligator through the drive thru window at McDonalds as a prank, I’ll be there. Every time a drunk spring breaker falls off a hotel balcony, I’ll be there. Every time someone’s baby shoots them by accident, I’ll be there. Because Florida isn’t a place…. it’s a state of being. And the real florida...is right here.

Riley: ...Why are you pointing to my boob? That’s not where my heart is.

Florida Man: I know.

Tiffany: [sniffles] That was beautiful…

SOUND: A strong gust of wind tears away the entire house, leaving the basement exposed. The wind is strong, the rain is loud, the Florida Man is at 100% power.

Florida Man: Come, KushGal1993, our reservation awaits.

Tiffany: I want a margarita and some boneless hot wings.

Florida Man: You can have any appetizers and drinks you want, baby. They know me there.

SOUND: Loud whoosh of wind and a crack of lightning. They are both gone.

Evelyn: [chipper] What just happened?

Riley: Peak. Florida.

SOUND: Long pause. Storm subsides a little.

Evelyn: So, turns out we didn’t die! Or, in my case, double-die!

Riley: This time.

Evelyn: And the storm’s dying down a little, too.

Riley: [Sarcastic] Yeah. Great. Wonderful. Meldor spared us.

Evelyn: Wait, why aren't you happy about that?

Riley: Look, don't get me wrong, I'm grateful this time wasn’t the apocalypse, but at the same time, I am kinda pissed I did all this doomsday prep for nothing.

Evelyn: You've got a real talent for finding the negative in any situation.

Riley: Let me mope, it's the only way I can stay sane. I'm gonna get dinner.

Evelyn: What are you having?

Riley: Tuna. For the next three years.

SOUND: Riley leans over and clicks the audio off.

[THE END]

A new takeout place has opened up in Riley’s neighbourhood, so naturally, they're eager to see what the place is made of. However, the numbers involved in Riley’s takeout order end up summoning the ghost of Tarrare - a legendary French weirdo who ate damn near everything.

+Transcript

SOUND: Riley and their mom argue outside the basement. It’s muffled; unintelligible. It sometimes sounds like human speech, but is regularly smattered with creepy, loud ghoul noises.

Evelyn: [Nervous] Hey everybody, welcome to Less Is Morgue, the show where a ghost and a ghoul talk about stuff. I'm Evelyn, your Ghost--

SOUND: Loud ghoul screech.

Evelyn: You get the idea. Riley’s just outside, uh, settling something. They'll be back soon, I hope.

SOUND: The door opens, Riley enters.

Riley: [Yelling at their mom] You know what? I wish I hadn't had you, either!

SOUND: Riley slams the door and groans. Footsteps down the stairs.

Riley: [Quietly mutters angry complaints]

Evelyn: You okay?

Riley: I’m fine.

Evelyn: Want to talk about it?

Riley: [Exhales] One time - just one time - I’d like to be able to get my mail without being lambasted by my mother.

SOUND: Riley shuffles through their mail.

Evelyn: Ooh, lambasted. That's a good word.

Riley: She complains about the smell, but you know what? It'd be a lot easier to shower regularly if there wasn't a dead pizza guy in my bathroom!

Evelyn: Yeah, it’s unfair of her to put that on you.

Riley: Lemme tell you, I cannot wait to eat her corpse when she dies, just to get rid of her, you know?

Evelyn: You know how I feel about cursing, Riley, but what the fuck?

Riley: Ghoul funeral rite. It happens to all of us.

Evelyn: I forget sometimes how...not...human...you are.

Riley: It’s just your mind’s way of coping with absolute reality. Why do I always get so much junk mail?

Evelyn: I’m still stuck on the whole “eating your mom” thing.

Riley: It’s rude to linger, Evelyn. [Re: the mail] Bill, bill, bill, junk mail, changed address, bank notice…

Evelyn: But it’s not just the cannibalism thing, you can do a lot of weird stuff.

Riley: Such as?

Evelyn: Well, your blood is toxic, and you can bend all your joints in every direction, and you can do that weird mouth thing and eat stuff that’s bigger than your head. Am I missing anything?

Riley: I mean, I can shapeshift.

Evelyn: Wait, what!? Is that a Riley thing or a ghoul thing?

Riley: Ghoul thing. We can turn into anything we've eaten recently.

Evelyn: How come you've never done this around me?

Riley: Because my diet consists mainly of microwave meals, rodents, and bugs, and I don't want to look like any of that shit.

Evelyn: Could you turn into me?

Riley: Anything we've eaten recently. You left my system long ago.

Evelyn: But I'll always be in your heart.

Riley: [Irritated] Yup.

SOUND: Paper rustling.

Riley: A-ha!

Evelyn: What’s that?

Riley: It’s a reply from Mills and Mills and Mills and Mills. It’s a publishing house, I submitted one of my short stories.

Evelyn: Ooh, which one?

Riley: The one about the ghoul who falls in love with their dentist during a root canal.

Evelyn: Oh, I liked that one, it was sweet.

Riley: I changed the ending at the last minute to be a little more tragic: they end up eating his hands by mistake during the surgery, so it doesn't work out.

Evelyn: Less sweet.

SOUND: Paper tears.

Riley: Shit. They rejected it.

Evelyn: Oh no!

Riley: Apparently it’s an “affront to both literature and decency.” Their words, not mine.

Evelyn: That seems a little harsh.

Riley: [Sigh] You know, sometimes, Ev, I don't even know why I bother. It's like banging my head up against a brick wall, except the bricks are all letters saying “your writing sucks balls, Riley, give up.”

Evelyn: Maybe doing some podcasting will cheer you up? I'll let you pick the topic.

Riley: I appreciate the effort, but some days, you just can't save.

SOUND: Paper still rustling.

Riley: Junk mail, junk mail, junk mail, death threat from a fan, junk mail, [pleasantly surprised] anthrax, junk mail…What’s this?

Evelyn: It looks like a pamphlet. [Reading] “Last Chance Texas-Style Barbecue?”

Riley: [Gasps] You’re right! It’s for a new takeout place that just opened. Evelyn, do you know what this means?

Evelyn: That pile of bones in the corner is gonna get bigger?

Riley: Yes. But it also means that they won't know about my past indiscretions. Which, in turn, means that they'll deliver here. Which means, Evelyn, that the day is saved!

Evelyn: Yay!

SOUND: Shuffling, as Riley approaches the laptop.

Riley: Let’s get on GhostMates immediately and order ourselves a FEAST!

Evelyn: I mean it's really just for you, but woo! Teamwork!

Riley: [Typing] So much choice. Damn my limited internal real-estate.

Evelyn: If it makes you feel any better, your bar is higher than most. Remember that time you ate a whole dead goat in one sitting?

Riley: I’d just watched the finale of Oedipus 3000, I needed to comfort-eat. [Typing] God, why can’t it all be right here, right now? The space-time continuum is a fucking joke.

Evelyn: So what kind of stuff do you use shapeshifting for?

Riley: How come you're so curious about all this?

Evelyn: Well, I've known you for a while now, and I didn't even realise you basically had superpowers.

Riley: It’s an evolutionary hold-over, like the gallbladder. We used to use it to lure travellers off the road, but these days we've got well-stocked graveyards and fast food, so the whole shapeshifting thing is just a party trick. We can imitate voices, too.

Evelyn: Anyone’s voice?

Riley: [In Evelyn’s voice] Yup, anyone’s. Now let me order my food.

Evelyn: Ghouls are so weird.

Riley: [Typing] Only if you consider humans to be the default organism - which, by the way, is a fucked up thing to do.

Evelyn: Yeah, I guess you're right. You know, if I could shapeshift, I'd probably turn into a dog.

Riley: [Baffled] Why?

Evelyn: Everyone loves dogs!

Riley: Your mind is a scientific marvel, Evelyn.

SOUND: Riley clicks.

Riley: Aaaand done.

Evelyn: What did you order?

Riley: The sixteen, the ten, the seventeen, and the ninety-eight.

Evelyn: And what's that in English?

Riley: Rack of ribs, barbecue chicken, quarter pounder, and the chilli. I feel like I'm being rude, talking about this. Can ghosts get hungry?

Evelyn: I mean, I haven't experienced hunger since I died. I just kinda vaguely miss the concept of food and eating.

Riley: Oh cool, I regret nothing, then.

Evelyn: So what do you wanna talk about while we wait?

Riley: Actually, I do have a pretty incredible story for you. It's got action, suspense, tragedy, comedy, and a sense of sophisticated ennui.

Evelyn: I know what those words mean individually!

Riley: So it all started at the ATM. I still had half a stick of salami, but the cows were beginning to descend…

[WEIRD AD TIME]

SOUND: Whip crack! Followed by aggressively southern banjo music, playing throughout.

BBQ Dad: Are you ready to experience the taste of Texas? Are you in the mood for some barbecue? Do you really love eating ridiculous quantities of meat? Well you’re in luck, ‘cause The Last Chance Texas-Style Barbecue is now delivering with GhostMates.

SOUND: Cow mooing, followed by another whip crack.

BBQ Dad: Yessir, we’re delivering mouth-watering ribs, burgers, pork, sausages and tender beef brisket with our famous Texas flavour, right here in the greater Tallahassee area. The law drove us out of our original location in Fort Worth, but now all the health and safety concerns have been dealt with, and we are back on top. We ain’t got rats, we ain’t got possums, we might still have some bats, maybe a couple pythons, but they taste like chicken anyway, so it doesn’t matter.

SOUND: As he’s talking, the music starts to get steadily louder.

BBQ Dad: Come on down to our location right in the heart of the Ochlockonee River Wildlife Management Area, and try our award winning all-meat Texas chilli. You’ll go absolutely buck wild for Grandma’s famous brisket rolls. What’s our secret recipe? What are you, a cop? Don’t ask me that. Shut up.

SOUND: Steak sizzling on a barbecue. The banjo continues to get louder.

BBQ Dad: (shouting) If you use the GhostMates app and enter the promo code- (to the person playing the banjo) Bubba! Stop playin’ that god damn banjo so loud!

SOUND: Bubba makes some dejected noises before resuming the tune, extremely quietly.

BBQ Dad: If you use the GhostMates app and enter promo code ‘WE SLAUGHTER’ you’ll get 20% off your next order, and a free side of cheesy fries. The Last Chance Barbecue- a real taste of meat. Yeehaw!

SOUND: Whip crack.

[ END OF WEIRD AD TIME ]

Riley: --And then the car drove into a telephone pole and exploded.

Evelyn: Wow, the number of twists and turns in that story was incredible. But I think the recording glitched out.

Riley: Shit. Oh well, I won’t tell it again, it’d only ruin it.

SOUND: Doorbell upstairs.

Riley: Oh wow, the food arrived right after I finished that story! How convenient.

SOUND: Riley excitedly running up the stairs, on all fours. Door opens.

Riley: [from upstairs] Thank you.

Bubba: [Unintelligible noises]

SOUND: Bubba hands them the bags of food. The door closes. Riley, carrying the bags, comes downstairs.

Evelyn: Listeners, just so you're not deprived of the mental image I've got right now: Riley is coming downstairs on all fours like some kind of goblin, but they're still somehow carrying all the food.

Riley: [Mouth Full] It’s a gift.

SOUND: They click on their laptop.

Riley: Let’s see...do I want to tip ‘Bubba’? Well, we want to stay in this restaurant’s good books in case I do anything inadvisable in the future, so...yeah, ten dollars.

Evelyn: I’m glad you’ve thought ahead this time.

Riley: And now, time to eat.

SOUND: Riley tears through the paper.

Riley: Oh god, it smells so fucking good.

Evelyn: You've got that scary look in your eyes again, Riley.

Riley: [Chewing] This burger. Holy shit, Evelyn, if only you were alive.

Evelyn: Now I feel like you're just rubbing it in.

Tarrare: Could you describe the taste out loud, mon ami?

SOUND: Evelyn and Riley scream.

Tarrare: I did not think it was an unreasonable request, but whatever.

Evelyn: Who are you?

Riley: [Mouth full] Yeah, and what are you doing in my basement?

Evelyn: Riley, this is not the time for eating!

Riley: [Gulps] I’m sorry, it’s a really good burger!

Tarrare: Yes, but why? What are the specifics? Juicy? Tender? Moist?

Evelyn: What are you? Some kind of frog-man?

Tarrare: Do you say that because I am French?

Evelyn: Oh gosh, no, no, no, just because of the big eyes, slimy skin, and the fact you've got mouth for days.

Tarrare: If you must know, my name is Tarrare. I am a human being, and a ghost, like you, mademoiselle. In my time, during the Revolution, I was known for my great appetite - when I was alive, I'd eat a cow a day, and still need four more courses to be anywhere close to satisfied. I was a freak - poked and prodded and experimented on, but nobody ever made the effort to truly know me, so I wander the earth, a stranger to all but myself. A hungry soul, unable to eat, forever unsatisfied.

Riley: Wow. Sounds like a real bummer. [Eats a bite of burger]

Tarrare: Are you two recording a podcast?

Evelyn: How do you know what a podcast is? I only died sixteen years ago, and it took Riley a whole day to explain it to me.

Tarrare: Podcasts are the bane of my non-existence. The only time anyone speaks my name these days is when my tragic life story is being trotted out for cheap laughs on quirky comedy podcasts. I did not eat that baby, damn it! I did not!

Riley: Uh, nobody said you did?

Tarrare: [Quiet rage] Justin McElroy said I did.

Evelyn: Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm Evelyn, and this is my best friend, Riley. Do you have a last name, Tarrare? For the show notes.

Tarrare: Well, technically speaking, Tarrare is just my stage name. My real name is Jean-Luc Baptiste Gérard Alain Marcel--

Riley: Let’s stick with Tarrare.

Tarrare: [Sighs] Fine. Tarrare it is.

SOUND: Riley bites into their burger.

Riley: [Eating] So like, why are you here? Did I eat you too? Cause I feel like I'd remember eating someone as weird-looking as you. No offence.

Tarrare: None taken. You did not eat me, Riley, but I am here because of what you're eating.

Riley: [Gulps] Could you be a little more specific?

Evelyn: Yeah, that’s kinda cryptic.

SOUND: Tarrare sighs.

Tarrare: Your order: Sixteen. Ten. Seventeen. Ninety-eight. It corresponds to the exact date of my death - the sixteenth of October, seventeen ninety-eight.

Evelyn: Oh wow, you're so old!

Riley: [Eating] So that's all it takes?

Tarrare: What, did you want more?

Riley: That combo can't be that uncommon. I mean, aren't you just getting summoned constantly, all over the world?

Tarrare: No, only with orders from the Last Chance Texas-Style Barbecue.

Evelyn: Why?

Tarrare: Because the owners are my direct descendants.

Riley: [Gulps; coughs] Wait, I’m sorry, wait, wait. Hold up, time out, just a sec.

Tarrare: [Exhausted] What?

Riley: [Genuinely surprised] You fucked?

Tarrare: Please, it was the eighteenth century, everyone was ugly and smelled like shit. I was only slightly uglier and shittier than the average Parisian.

Riley: Yeah but, I mean, just look at you. Was she blind?

Tarrare: No, she was my one true love, Pauline, the lobster-clawed woman. We worked together briefly at a freak show in Dieppe, until the tension was too great to bear and culminated in a night of passionate big-top love-making. Of course, this made things weird at work, and we had to go our separate ways for professional reasons. When I left to join the war effort, she took her own life with nightshade wine out of despair. She must have given birth to our secret lovechild before then.

Evelyn: Oh no! That’s so awful!

Riley: And almost aggressively French.

Tarrare: My life has been a carousel of tragedy and woe. From my vicious beatings at the hands of the Prussians, all the way back to my father abandoning me when I was but ten years old. [Tearful] Papa, why wasn't I good enough for you? Why didn't you love me? I just wanted to--

SOUND: Riley is quietly munching.

Tarrare: Will you please stop eating!? You’re killing me here, metaphorically speaking.

Riley: Oh, speaking of, all this barbecue is human flesh.

Evelyn: What!?

Riley: You would think they'd put that on the website for allergy reasons, but apparently that's not the world we live in.

Evelyn: Are you positive it’s human?

Riley: Evelyn, you of all people should be aware that I know what human beings taste like. [Chewing] Really, I should have seen this coming, seeing as the delivery guy was wearing a mask made of human skin, but I don't keep up with fashion - I figured it might've just been what was in this season, you know?

Tarrare: [Sighs] This doesn’t surprise me. My descendants are terrible people - when I first manifested, I attempted to connect with them, and the oldest one chased me out with a broom handle, and accused me of being a homosexual.

Evelyn: Wait, Riley, so could you turn into the people you've just eaten?

Riley: Uh, yeah, in theory, I'm a little rusty, though.

Evelyn: Please? Pretty please with sugar and a cherry on top? I'd love to see it!

Tarrare: I am, how you say, terribly lost. Both in a wider, existential sense, and also in the sense I have no idea what either of you are talking about.

Riley: It’d take too long to explain. Which one do you want me to try?

Evelyn: Try the burger first!

Riley: Okay, just gimme a sec, and don't look at me while I'm doing it, I need to concentrate and I can't do it while you're watching.

SOUND: Riley grunts in the background, like they're trying to take a shit.

Evelyn: So, uh, Tarrare, I'm sorry your dad threw you out.

Tarrare: You know, when my father abandoned me, it left a hole I wasn’t able to fill. I never saw him again after that day. On my deathbed, I assumed that the hunger that plagued me would die with my body, but I think it was what he did that put the hunger in my soul.

SOUND: Freaky, fleshy noises.

Businessman - Riley: I did it! Guys, look, I fucking did it! Fuck, British accent. That’s weird.

Evelyn: Oh my gosh. You look totally different!

Businessman - Riley: Well, yeah, it’s shapeshifting. That’s the point.

Tarrare: What strange wonders this new world holds. You'd have done gangbusters at the freak show.

Businessman - Riley: I wonder who this guy was. He looks like an accountant.

Evelyn: Could you try the chilli now?

SOUND: The freaky, fleshy noises again.

Riley: Was one not enough?

Evelyn: I just wanted to see who was in it, is all.

Riley: Fine. Just look away.

SOUND: Riley continues to grunt and strain.

Evelyn: So Tarrare, do you think if you got a chance to talk to your father again, you'd feel better?

Tarrare: Perhaps, but who knows? It doesn't matter now. He died hundreds of years ago. I'm doomed to wander the earth, getting roasted on podcast after podcast until the sun swallows up the world and roasts us all.

SOUND: Freaky, fleshy noises. Riley now speaks in a weird, warped voice.

Abomination - Riley: Uh oh.

Evelyn: Holy moly!

Tarrare: Sacré bleu!

Abomination - Riley: I didn't know I could do this…

Evelyn: You look like twenty different people at once. It’s hurting my brain, and I can't even experience physical sensation!

Abomination - Riley: They must've put a lot of people in that chilli. One sec.

SOUND: Freaky, fleshy noises. Riley’s back to normal.

Riley: I’m gonna be sore in the morning.

Evelyn: I didn't know you could mix and match different parts.

Riley: Me either, guess you learn something new every day.

Evelyn: [Gasps] Brainblast! Tarrare, do you remember what your dad looked like?

Tarrare: Of course, I only wish I could forget, so I might know peace someday.

Riley: Evelyn...I know what you're gonna say, and I hate it.

Evelyn: It’s the least we can do for Tarrare! So, describe your father to us.

Tarrare: He was quite an average looking man, to be honest.

Riley: ...That’s not anything I can use.

Evelyn: Uh, yeah- maybe let’s be more specific. What color were his eyes?

Tarrare: Brown.

SOUND: Squishy eyeball noises.

Evelyn: And what about his hair?

Tarrare: Brown, but a light brown. Much like the color of the wood on that desk.

SOUND: Rustling hair noises.

Evelyn: And his skin?

Tarrare: Pale, and heavily pockmarked.

SOUND: Squishy skin noises.

Evelyn: Okay, so let’s get more detailed - how did his nose look?

Tarrare: Just, you know, normal.

Riley: I can’t work with that.

Tarrare: You know, he just had a normal nose. Just the nose that you think of when you think of what a nose looks like.

Riley: That could mean anything! Are we talking normal normal or French normal?

Tarrare: Here- just…give me a piece of paper, I’ll draw him.

Riley: You’re a ghost! You can’t hold the paper! You know what? I’m pausing the recording. This is gonna take a while.

SOUND: Shuffling, click, silence. A pause. Then click, and the sound’s back.

Evelyn: We’re almost there, I think you just need to make the moustache a little bigger.

Riley: This episode better get a million downloads for this shit.

SOUND: Freaky, fleshy noises.

Evelyn: Perfect. Tarrare, you can turn around now.

Tarrare: [Gasps] My god...it’s the spitting image of him...Papa?

Riley: [Sighs] Yes, son, it is I, your father.

Tarrare: [Deeply emotional] Papa, it's been so long, I thought I'd never see you again.

Riley: [Phoning it in] It’s been a long time, but neither time nor distance can dull the flame of my love for you, son.

Tarrare: [Choking up] Really? Because you'd think, if that were the case, you'd have let me stay in your home you, how you say, fucking asshole!

Evelyn: Oh wow, I didn’t see this coming.

Tarrare: You were a terrible father! All you ever did was drink and smoke and womanise--

Riley: This is all just standard, boilerplate French dude activity.

Tarrare: If you were any man at all, you'd have made sure that your family lived a happy and prosperous life. I shat myself to death in a Versailles hospital at twenty-six! Are you happy about that?

Riley: Uh, no?

Tarrare: Just what I thought! And now our descendants are uncultured American cannibals.

Riley: But they make great twenty-people chilli.

Tarrare: I wouldn't know, because I'm dead, because you were an awful dad! You remember what you told me before you abandoned me? You told me that you wished you hadn't even had me!

Riley: [He’s struck a nerve] Oh. Did I, uh, did I say that?

Tarrare: Oui!

Riley: That’s...that’s a shitty thing for any parent to say to their kid. Whether it's your dad or your, um, mom…

Evelyn: Uh, Riley, you're going off-script. Is everything okay?

Riley: For what it's worth, Tarrare, you didn't need me. In spite of all the awful shit I said, your memory lives on hundreds of years later. I'm just a footnote in your story. You became a person worth remembering, and you didn't need me to do it.

Tarrare: Yes. I suppose you're right about that. Kiss my fragrant French ass, Dad, it’s been nice seeing you.

SOUND: Tarrare sighs. He sounds happier than before.

Tarrare: Strange. There’s a new lightness to me now, like something’s been lifted from my chest. You know, I don't even feel hungry anymore. [Laughs] I think it's time to go.

Evelyn: Go where?

Tarrare: Wherever comes next. Thank you, Riley and Evelyn. If we end up in the same place, I'll save a bottle of wine for the three of us.

Riley: We’ll hold you to that.

Tarrare: [Voice fading] Au revoir!

SOUND: Ghostly noises. Tarrare is gone.

Evelyn: You okay, Riley?

Riley: [Sniffs] Me? Oh yeah, I'm fine, all good. Just, you know, some of that hit a little close to home.

Evelyn: I think what you said about him is true for you too, Riles. You're awesome, and your mom doesn't have anything to do with it.

Riley: Can I change back now? This is getting a little uncomfortable.

Evelyn: Yup.

SOUND: Fleshy noises as Riley shifts back.

Riley: God, I feel like I just ran a fucking marathon. I should not have done that on such a full stomach, cause now I've got a stitch.

Evelyn: I feel like “full stomach” is an understatement.

Riley: What's that supposed to mean?

Evelyn: How do I put this...you ordered like four whole meals, and looking at you right now, I feel like people would offer you their seat on the bus.

Riley: This is a non-visual medium. The only people who can judge me are you and God, and I've already come to terms with that.

Evelyn: Hey, who said I was judging?

SOUND: Riley groans.

Riley: Did this episode even have a theme? I feel like we dropped the ball on this one.

Evelyn: I got to see you shapeshift and we saved a spirit from eternal torment, so that's pretty cool.

Riley: Tell that to the reviewers. [Winces] I’m gonna feel dead in the morning.

Evelyn: [Sympathetically snarky] Oh, poor you, I couldn't imagine how that feels.

Riley: Up yours, Hooper. Let me have my self-pity.

Evelyn: You can have some left-over chilli, if you want.

Riley: Let’s put it in the fridge. I think I lost my appetite…

[THE END]

After a local doomsday cult, The Children of The All-Knowing Milton, finally meet their doom, Riley and Evelyn need to give Death a hand to get all their souls processed.

+ Transcript

Evelyn: If you’re hearing this, I’ve got good news: you survived the apocalypse. Yay! The bad news is: this is the last episode of Less is Morgue in the history of ever.

Riley: Hey, we’ll still be doing this show, even if this bullshit end-of-the-world scare turns out to be true and our fans end up dead. I need the emotional outlet.

Evelyn: Fun fact: We already have a sizable fan following among the dead. They can't tweet, like, subscribe, or show up on the download numbers, but I know they're there!

Riley: [sarcastic] And boy, do we appreciate their support.

Evelyn: This is the last episode. Do you really want to go out being mean to our fans?

Riley: It’s not the last episode, and it’s not the end of the world. I say that in order of importance. Evelyn: Where’s your conspiracy theorist spirit?

Riley: I’m hosting a podcast with her.

Evelyn: I don't get how you can believe every other nutty theory, but not this totally reasonable one!

Riley: Hi, everyone. I’m Riley, your best ghoulfriend.

Evelyn: And I’m Evelyn, your Ghost Host with the Most… and this is our last episode.

Riley: It’s not the last episode!

SOUND: Riley is cut off by the intro music.

Riley: And we’re back.

Evelyn: But not for long, because soon everyone will be dead.

Riley: Knock it off already. You lived through Y2K, this is just like that.

Evelyn: This isn’t Y2K! This is Milton’s Comet! It’s going to throw off the earth’s magnetic field, increasing gravity and crushing us under the weight of the atmosphere.

Riley: Are you sure you went to college? ‘Cause I know I didn’t, and that still sounds like bullshit.

Evelyn: I read it on RealestTruthNews.ru.

Riley: Are you kidding me? Those government shills haven’t even said a word on Project Afterimage, even though the photographs are widely available.

Evelyn: I don’t know what that is, but you need to take this seriously.

Riley: ‘RealestTruthNews.ru’ seriously? Or ‘realizing that we are just three years out from being left behind on a duplicate earth’ seriously?

Evelyn: We are three minutes out from Milton’s Comet turning the world’s oxygen into pudding!

Riley: I thought you said the atmosphere was going to crush us.

Evelyn: In the form of pudding! It's all there in the article.

Riley: Sounds delicious. [Beat] I think I’ll pull up the live countdown.

SOUND: Riley typing. Then a ticking noise.

Evelyn: Sure, Riley! Pull up a live countdown on our podcast that takes a week to produce.

Riley: When have you ever been concerned about the production side of things?

Evelyn: Since we have minutes to live!

Riley: Correction. I have minutes to live. You’re already dead, and I’m pretty sure the pudding would phase right through you.

Evelyn: Ah! So you admit you’re going to die.

Riley: Wow, only one minute left before the comet passes by. That’s even sooner than you thought, Evelyn.

Evelyn: Wait, there’s so much I haven’t had a chance to say.

Riley: [Laughs] Why wait? I’m all ears. Better hurry before the pudding falls.

Evelyn: Riley, you’re my best friend. You get on my nerves sometimes, but there’s nowhere I’d rather be right now than recording the last episode of our podcast.

Riley: [Sadistic glee] Oh, it’s getting close. Just ten seconds. Prepare to evacuate soul.

Evelyn: [Distraught] I don’t know what I’m going to do when I’m a wandering ghost alone in a world of pudding, and you’re where the bad people go.

Riley: Three, two… Wait, I’m going where?

SOUND: Alarm goes off. A second of silence.

Evelyn: [Nervous laugh] You know, it’s funny. I thought there’d be some kind of thunderous schlorping sound.

Riley: No pudding, no schlorp. Can we rewind for a second and address this? “Where the bad people go”? Is that what overly polite dorks like you call Hell?

Evelyn: I mean, I guess we’re in a basement with sound-proofing, maybe we missed the schlorp.

Riley: Don’t change the subject! There’s no schlorp, Evelyn! Because the world isn’t ending, it’s just another normal-ass day in the lives and deaths of Riley and Evelyn!

SOUND: Paranormal schlorp as the ghost of Brother Puddonius appears in the basement.

Brother Puddonius: Praise the All-Knowing Milton! I am delivered!

Evelyn: What the heck?

Riley: [Grumbles] Why does fate have such a sick sense of humour?

Brother Puddonius: Brothers, join me, for I find myself in the Suggested Land!

SOUND: Additional schlorps as more cultists appear, saying “Praise Milton” as they do so.

Evelyn: Uhhh Riley, who are all these new ghost friends? And why are they all wearing robes?

Riley: [Alarmed] Don’t ask me! I’m not a ghost whisperer.

Evelyn: Well, you’re right about that. You’re more like a ghost neglector.

Riley: Quiet, Evelyn.

Evelyn: See!

Riley: How’s this? [Raises their voice] Hey, bed-sheet brigade! I’m afraid this basement is already haunted, so take your little demonstration elsewhere.

Evelyn: I don’t think they’re getting the message, Riley.

Brother Puddonius: Rejoice, my brothers! For it is the day of absolution! Milton’s Comet has come and liberated us from a world of regret and sorrow! A world that is now drenched in the caramel-coated rage of a thousand flans!

SOUND: Cult voices chant “FLAN” in unison.

Riley: Are they saying flan? [beat] Oh, you have got to be shitting me.

Evelyn: I was right! It was the schlorp, Riley! The schlorp!

Riley: Stop saying schlorp! It’s weirding me out.

Evelyn: Being underground must have bought us some time, but the ceiling could cave at any minute.

Riley: Right, and then I’ll die and be punished in the afterlife for being a horrible person [beat] according to you.

Evelyn: I don’t think you’re a horrible person, Riley. But I also don’t make the rules.

Riley: Oh, spare me. I’m not dealing with this. If there’s even a one percent chance you and these morons of the cloth are right about this, I’m eating my way outta here.

SOUND: Riley gets up. We hear their footsteps as they exit towards the stairs.

Evelyn: Wait, Riley! What about the show!? Think of all our dead listeners!

Riley: [Far from the mic] Good point, more pudding for me.

SOUND: Door slams.

Evelyn: Oh shoot. This really is the last episode.

Brother Puddonius: Greetings, o celestial one!

Evelyn: [Surprised] JESUS.

Brother Puddonius: Pleased to make your acquaintance, Jesus. I am Brother Puddonius, a Child of The All-Knowing Milton.

Evelyn: Milton? Like as in Milton’s Comet?

Brother Puddonius: The very same.

Evelyn: [Slightly off-put] Cool. Anyway, sorry about the mess, it was Riley’s turn to clean this week. I mean, I guess it’s kinda always their turn since I’m not super great at being able to touch things, so on my weeks I just-

Brother Puddonius: Fret not, o gracious host with the very most! The Suggested Land appears exactly as it was suggested to look. Suggestively.

Evelyn: Look, you guys should probably move on. If Riley ever comes back, they’re not going to be happy with any funky cult business. [Beat] And come to think of it, neither am I.

SOUND: The biggest schlorp. It grows in intensity as Thackery Boggs emerges into the basement.

Brother Puddonius: He arrives! Brothers, you know him! You love him! He is sworn leader of the Children of the All-Knowing Milton! Host of the Suggested Land, please welcome the one and only Thackery Boggs!

SOUND: Twanging of a sitar.

Thackery Boggs: Life’s mystery quivers within me like a bowl of half-eaten custard.

Brother Puddonius: You all know what comes next, my brothers! We shall now take into our own hands the pudding which has rained down from the heavens, and we shall use it to slather the naked body of Thackery Boggs. From his broad, rugged shoulders to the tip of his--

Thackery Boggs: Now I’m going to have to stop you right there.

Brother Puddonius: [Tongue out] We shall extend our tongues and we shall lick-

Thackery Boggs: Brother, no!

Brother Puddonius: What seems to be the problem, exalted one?

Thackery Boggs: I admire your enthusiasm for the cause, Brother Puddonius, but there is nothing in the teachings of the All-Knowing Milton about slathering my naked body with pudding.

Brother Puddonius: There’s not?

Thackery Boggs: No, there’s not. And even if there were, which again I must stress would be highly unorthodox, the fact is that we, The Children of The All-Knowing Milton, have transcended the physical plane into a realm of pure psyche. Ergo, none of us have the tangible form required to sustain any amount of heretical pudding slathering.

Brother Puddonius: [Disappointed] He doesn’t want the slathering, brothers.

SOUND: Cult groans and sounds disappointed.

Brother Puddonius: I know, I know, but our leader has spoken.

SOUND: Thackery plucks at the sitar again.

Thackery Boggs: My fellow children, we must always strive to embody the noble haggis. Aggressive, but willing to compromise.

Evelyn: Excuse me, Mr. Boggs?

Thackery Boggs: Well, pour me into a casing and call me a blood sausage!

SOUND: Twang.

Thackery Boggs: Do my newly spectral eyes deceive me, or have I been greeted by a celestial being?

Brother Puddonius: That is Jesus, exalted one.

Evelyn: It’s Evelyn, actually.

Thackery Boggs: Evelyn, eh? A fitting name for a host of the Suggested Land.

Evelyn: Actually, what I’m trying to tell you is--

Thackery Boggs: Your name means “a desirable one who brings light and companionship”, does it not?

Evelyn: Awww, well I guess that’s the sort of energy I try to bring to the room.

Brother Puddonius: It also means hazelnut, as in hazelnut pudding.

Evelyn: Why are you guys so obsessed with dessert?

Thackery Boggs: What is the afterlife, but the dessert of life?

SOUND: Sitar twang.

Thackery Boggs: O Mighty Evelyn, we, The Children of The All-Knowing Milton, have seen your Suggested Land and found it a suitable place to spend our eternity.

Evelyn: Are you sure we’re looking at the same basement? We’ve got at least four xylophones’ worth of discarded ribs down here. Thackery Boggs: Well, you wouldn’t eat a pig’s kidney until it was coated in gravy.

Evelyn: I wouldn’t eat a pig’s kidney, period. Also, what!?

Brother Puddonius: What the exalted one means to say is that we all must slather each other with gravy!

Thackery Boggs: No, it doesn’t! Brother, you must stop.

SOUND: Angry twang.

Thackery Boggs: It means that we will come to accept this place just the way it is, Evelyn.

Evelyn: Well, that’d be great. Only this isn’t the afterlife. This really is just a ratty old basement.

Brother Puddonius: How could this be?

Thackery Boggs: Enough, Puddonius. Surely, this is a test put forth by the All-Knowing Milton.

Evelyn: It really isn’t. [Beat] Look, I understand what it’s like to not go to the place you wanted to. Life comes at you fast and death is like twice as fast as that. I wasn’t as ready for the end of the world as you all seem to be, so in a way, you guys have a leg up on making this whole earthbound spirit thing work out for the best. Ignoring for a second that we all don’t have legs.

Thackery Boggs: Nope, I’m not buying it.

SOUND: Twang.

Thackery Boggs: I, Thackery Boggs, demand an audience with the All-Knowing Milton.

Evelyn: And I, Evelyn Hooper, cannot arrange such a meeting, so please leave a message after the tone.

Thackery Boggs: I must say, I don’t much appreciate your tone.

SOUND: Puddonius phases through the wall.

Brother Puddonius: Exalted one! I have seen the room of bathing, and there is another being here. He says his name is Jon-

Evelyn: Milton! [Beat] You figured it out. I was hiding Jon Milton, the All-Knowing, from you as a test of your… fortitude and… stability?

Thackery Boggs: Those are two qualities I quite enjoy in my pudding.

Evelyn: [Awkwardly] And serve you well, they shall! Go now, to the bathroom and rejoice.

Brother Puddonius: Evelyn has spoken! To the bathroom, brothers!

SOUND: Cult phases through the bathroom door en masse.

Thackery Boggs: It is as the menu implied: We have removed our skin and may now bask in the deliciousness of what we have become.

SOUND: Sitar twangs and Thackery phases away through the wall.

Evelyn: [Calling] Sorry, Jon.

SOUND: Door opens, footsteps again, Riley re-enters the room.

Evelyn: Oh good, Riley’s back!

Riley: I just had the weirdest conversation with my mom.

Evelyn: [Gasps] Was she nice to you?

Riley: Okay, not that weird. I guess I shouldn’t have lead with “Where’s the pudding?”

Evelyn: Was there pudding?

Riley: Yes and no. Let me start at the beginning. So, I get to the top of the stairs, and…

[WEIRD AD TIME]

Vodka Aunt: It’s Saturday, and once again you find yourself all alone, like a sad, pathetic loser. You could have gone out with your girlfriends, but that’s when it hits you: You don’t have any girlfriends. You don’t have anyone. Your life is a deepening pit of isolation, and the bottom can only be found in a bottle of Aunt Sammy’s Homebody Vodka. So you crack open a bottle, and that’s when you realize: you’re not alone anymore.

SOUND: Foreboding music.

Vodka Aunt: At Aunt Sammy’s, our handcrafted spirits are literally just that: Spirits. We condense a dozen lonely souls from the most secluded places on earth into a single vengeful apparition - an apparition that will surely have major tea to spill.

Within each bottle is a composite wraith that just wants to be your friend, but not without telling you the reason why your every attempt at intimacy is bound to be a resounding failure. Sure, you could adopt a litter of kittens, but will those precious babies be able to get you weeping drunk while engaging you in thousand-year old gossip? No, I don’t think they will. Sorry, kittens.

SOUND: startled cat noise.

Vodka Aunt: Aunt Sammy’s Homebody Vodka. You’ll never drink it alone.

[END OF WEIRD AD TIME]

Riley: ...And so basically, not only did I not get to eat any of the pudding that my mom made for her “guests”, there was almost certainly not an apocalypse of any kind today.

Evelyn: Well, at the end of the day, it’s at least there’ll be an end of the day.

Riley: Good job getting rid of that pudding cult, by the way. I’m legitimately impressed.

Evelyn: Oh, they’re not gone. I just tricked them all into inhabiting the bathroom for the rest of time.

Riley: Okay, retracting my earlier statement. [Beat] I’m never gonna take a normal shit again, am I?

Evelyn: Have you ever?

Riley: Not saying I disagree, I just really wish I could.

Evelyn: I’m sorry, It’s the best I could do.

Riley: Well, Evelyn, you were right about one thing today.

Evelyn: I was?

Riley: Yeah. Turns out, I am going to hell. Every time I have the audacity to wash or piss or - dark eldritch gods forbid - have a bowel movement.

Evelyn: Riley, I’m so sorry.

Riley: [Bitter] No, it’s fine. After all, I totally deserve it.

SOUND: Death arises from a magic portal.

Death: Oof. Sorry I’m late, mortals. Looks like things got real ugly over here - and I should know, I’ve got a skull for a face.

Riley: No kidding, who are you?

Evelyn: Oh wait, I know this guy! Hey, Death!

Death: Well, this is awkward. I’m totally blanking on your name.

Evelyn: Evelyn Hooper! We met 16 years ago.

Death: Sorry, there are so many of you. I can barely remember last year.

Evelyn: It was the Nickelback concert in ‘04, the one where I was fatally crushed by a lighting fixture?

Death: Ah, now it’s coming back to me. No wait, it’s going. Crap. Anyhow, I’m Death, nice to meet you.

Riley: Gotta say, I’m pretty surprised you haven’t come to visit us before, Death.

Evelyn: Riley’s body count is well into the double digits.

Riley: If we’re low-balling it and not counting animals, sure.

Death: Oh, I tend to remain invisible to killers most of the time. Some really creepy fan letters taught me that lesson. I’m actually in the neighborhood tonight because there seems to have been a mix-up.

Riley: You don’t say?

Death: [Embarrassed] Yes, apparently there was a gas explosion down the street at a communal living arrangement, and a lot of people died at once. Total shitshow, for lack of a more eloquent phrase.

Evelyn: This wouldn’t happen to be some kind of pudding cult, would it?

Death: To be honest, I haven’t the faintest idea. In cases like this, I usually just transfer the souls over to the nearest independent afterlife and head over to personally sort it out once the dust clears.

Riley: So, why didn’t you?

Death: That’s just it, actually. Someone registered this basement as an afterlife.

Evelyn: It wasn’t me.

Riley: Evelyn!

Evelyn: No, it really wasn’t. Why do you always interpret denials as cover ups?

Riley: The fang fairy and MK-Ultra!

Death: That aside, it says here that a Mister Jon Wheeler signed the paperwork about two months ago?

Riley: This is why you never let in the pizza boy.

Evelyn: Do we - I mean, I - get any special benefits for this being an afterlife?

Death: That’s really not my department. You should reach out to your local benevolent deity.

Riley: We don’t have any of those around here.

Evelyn: Still a better afterlife than Todd’s Heaven.

SOUND: Death grunts in frustration.

Death: If you don’t mind, can we focus? I’m way behind on today’s harvest as it is. The point of me coming here is that these misplaced souls need to be redirected to the proper afterlife.

Riley: Good, I want them gone.

Evelyn: Me too.

Death: It’s not that simple. I need to pass judgement on each of them using my scythe, so I know what direction they’re headed in.

Evelyn: I thought it was just two directions: up where I was headed...

Riley: ...or down, with me and the other jerks.

Death: That’d be simpler, but things are rarely so black and white. There’s far more than two kinds of afterlives, and over the years I’ve had to abandon a physical scythe in favor of this mobile app. [Sigh] It’s still buffering.

Riley: Wow, so even Death is a slave to trends.

Evelyn: I’m not surprised, when I died he threw a Beyblade at me.

Death: We all have our phases. You’re probably ashamed of being a Nickelback fan now.

Evelyn: Actually, I’m still a huge fan.

Death: I’m sorry for your loss.

Evelyn: Hey!

Death: Sorry. Don’t mean to judge. Force of habit.

Riley: Death, you feeling alright? You seem pretty stressed out.

Death: Ha! Stressed out? You wanna know how stressful this job is? When I started working here, I had skin and hair! The last time I had a free evening to go on a date was during the Big Bang, which was a literal experience for me. Now I've got two kids I haven't seen in millennia, and because none of you mortals can stop dying for one stinking day, I never rest! Ever! Existence is a relentless pit with greased walls from which I can never climb free!

Evelyn: Jeez. No offence, Death, but you're kind of a downer.

Death: [Sarcastic] Oh, I'm sorry! You realise I'm the Grim Reaper, right? Not the happy, fluffy, rainbows and puppies Reaper.

Riley: Okay, okay, dial back the sass, Boney M.

SOUND: Alexa voice “Welcome to Scythe Mobile.”

Death: Ah, finally! It’s booted up.

Riley: Why’d you pick that name?

Evelyn: Yeah, it feels a little clunky.

Death: I was gonna call it Reaper, but apparently that's an audio software already.

Riley: I wouldn't know, I use Audacity.

SOUND: Riley clicking phone.

Death: What are you doing?

Riley: What do you think I’m doing? I’m downloading Scythe Mobile.

Death: Why?

Riley: I’m gonna review it on our show.

Death: Please be constructive, it’s been a long week, I’m feeling fragile.

Riley: You designed this yourself?

Death: I had a prototype back in 2009, but it was really a chance meeting with Steve Jobs in 2011 that helped me take it to the next level.

Riley: It’s a shame it wasn’t Wozniak. Then the app might actually work.

Death: Well, given his preference for coffee and Philly Cheese Steaks, I'm sure I'll get his input soon enough.

SOUND: Alexa voice “Welcome to Scythe Mobile.”

Death: How did you get it to load so fast?

Riley: You gotta clear your cookies, man.

Death: You’re assuming I have time to eat.

Riley: Yeah, you really shouldn't be using an app. [beat] Whoa, okay, this interface is breaking my brain.

Death: Oh, is it? Has the mortal not seen an omnidimensional swiping tool before?

Riley: Evelyn, come look at this.

Evelyn: Jeepers, it’s like a kaleidoscope made out of mobius strips.

Riley: Listeners, if you can somehow hear how terrible this is to look at, I’m sorry for doing this to you.

Death: So much for being constructive.

Riley: Get the pudding cult out of my bathroom!

Death: I’m working on it. [Beat] And… done.

Evelyn: Was that it? I thought this stuff was more complicated than that.

Death: Oh, it is. So complicated, in fact, that you can’t even begin to comprehend why it seemed so brief in your perception of time.

Riley: You’re a real weirdo, Death.

Death: Go ahead and check your washroom. I think you’ll find it free of unwanted apparitions.

Riley: [excited] You don’t mean…

SOUND: Riley gets up, runs to the bathroom door, and opens it.

Riley: Aw fuck.

Pizza Ghost Jon: Hey, Riley. Do you know where those guys went? One of them said he was going to slather pudding on me and I was kind of into it.

Riley: You’ll see them in hell, Jon.

SOUND: Door slam.

Riley: I knew it was too good to be true.

Evelyn: Are the rest of them gone, at least?

Riley: [Grumpy] Yeah, I guess.

Evelyn: Hooray! I’m gonna count that as another win for us.

Death: Don’t worry about the check, you can have this one on the house.

Riley: Didn’t realize that not being haunted by a cult was pay to play.

Evelyn: Thanks for all your help, Death.

Death: Fare thee well, Emily Cooper. And uh… I’m sorry… totally blanking here…

Riley: Get out of here!

Death: Fine, I’m going. I’ll see you in ten years.

Riley: Damn right, you will. [Beat] I mean, wait, what?

SOUND: Death vanishes into a vortex in the floor.

Riley: Well, there was no pudding, but I still feel crushed. [Beat] Damn it, I forgot to ask Death which direction I was going.

Evelyn: Why would you need to ask him directly? You’ve got the app right there.

Riley: Huh, good point. Let’s give it a shot.

SOUND: Riley hits a button and we hear a prompt noise come up.

Evelyn: Oh, wow, I was way off.

Riley: Were you? I mean, this seems nothing like what I’d imagined.

Evelyn: But it’s not the worst.

Riley: Definitely not the worst.

Evelyn: So that’s something.

Riley: Yeah.

Evelyn: You know I just said that because I was scared the world was ending, right?

Riley: Yes, Evelyn. I’m aware.

Evelyn: Also, you were being really mean to me at the time.

Riley: Okay, okay. I'm sorry for being a dick.

Evelyn: Come to think of it, what is going to happen to me when you’re gone?

Riley: Who knows? Could be that there’s an afterlife out there where a hundred Chad Kroegers play the greatest hits on a stage of sunshine.

Evelyn: You really think so, Riles?

Riley: Yeah. And maybe there’s another one that’s just all pudding. Like pudding all the way down.

Evelyn: Well, I’ll tell you what, if things don’t work out wherever you end up going, you can always move back here with me.

Riley: Who says you’re getting the basement? If anything, Jon seems to have signed the afterlife lease.

Evelyn: I have ways of getting it back.

Riley: You’re not gonna try to flush him down the toilet again, are you?

Evelyn: Okay, I don’t have ways.

[THE END]

Riley’s attempt to host a more orderly episode of the podcast falls apart when their guest - family friend, weird artist, and fellow ghoul, Shaz - gets disastrously high in order to see and hear Evelyn.

+ Transcript

Riley: Okay, so I’ve got a theory.

Evelyn: Oh no, not again.

Riley: You know why our podcast always goes off the rails?

Evelyn: Why?

Riley: We never write down our talking points.

Evelyn: I kind of like the loose, freeform conversations we have on this show.

Riley: Okay, but you're wrong, and my way is infinitely better.

SOUND: Papers shuffling.

Riley: I want this to be a serious endeavour, you know.

Evelyn: I do know, yes. You say it a lot.

Riley: Because, despite what you may believe, podcasting is a serious medium. The listeners are coming here to get information. They want to know what's what, and they rely on us to tell them the truth about what's really going on - like how McDonalds is putting Monsanto seeds on their buns to make us more suggestible to advertising. That one’s for free.

Evelyn: I thought the listeners came here to feel like we're their friends and we're all hanging out together.

Riley: No. So listen, I've got a family friend coming in as a guest today, they're involved in a big art exhibition that I thought they'd like to come in and talk about.

Evelyn: That sounds fun! [Beat] Hey, don't roll your eyes at me! And don't give me that look.

[BEAT]

Evelyn: Your eyes just radiate...judgey...ness. Please blink.

SOUND: Comically loud, squishy blink noise.

Riley: There, are you happy?

Evelyn: I feel a little less unsettled now, yes.

Riley: So, before we do the intro, can I run these questions by you?

Evelyn: What kind of co-host would I be if I said no?

Riley: I'm gonna ask them about their artistic influences.

Evelyn: Sure.

Riley: I'm gonna ask them how they choose the objects they use in their artwork.

Evelyn: Right.

Riley: And I'm gonna ask them what other things they do for fun, because the people at home might care about that for some reason.

Evelyn: That's three things you're gonna ask them.

Riley: I know this guest well: trust me, they can easily talk for 45 minutes about three things. They once held a two hour conversation about the themes of sexual repression in the Toy Story movies - so I figured we could definitely get them to go off about something that actually matters.

Evelyn: Very smart of you.

Riley: It is, thank you for noticing. Now that we've done that, we sh-

SOUND: ABRUPT CUT TO INTRO MUSIC

Riley: -ould do the intro. [They take a breath] Welcome to Less is Morgue, the show where a ghost and a ghoul talk about stuff. I'm Riley, and I'm a raw spaghetti apologist.

Evelyn: And I'm Evelyn. I haven't eaten spaghetti in 16 years because I'm dead.

Riley: Our guest this week is a mixed-media artist involved in a touring installation that's gonna be in town for the next week and a half. It's called You Probably Won't Understand This, and it's a collaborative effort bringing together creatives from 12 countries, 8 species, and 5 dimensions.

Evelyn: Oooh, what country, species, and dimension, respectively, is our guest from?

Riley: 3rd, ghoul, and Australia.

Evelyn: Did you mean to answer in that order?

Riley: Absolutely. Everything I've ever done is intentional.

Evelyn: Not gonna touch that.

Riley: I should warn you ahead of time- they’re a very full-on person to be around. I’ve been to extended family barbecues where other guests have had to tag team to get through conversations with them.

Evelyn: We’ve met a lot of people who could be called full-on in a lot of ways. Can you be more specific?

Riley: Well, you know artists, Ev. Real artists like Shaz and me, we’re intense.

SOUND: Riley blows air as if taking a drag off a cigarette

Evelyn: Are you trying to smoke that pen?

Riley: Shh! The listeners don’t know that. (grumbling) It was for effect…

SOUND: Soft sound of plastic cracking. Riley spits.

Riley: Aw, fuck, I’ve got ink all over my mouth now. I’ll smear it around so it looks like lipstick.

Evelyn: No one’s gonna buy that that black smear is lipstick, Riley. You look like you ate a printer cartridge.

Riley: If I appear confident enough, people won’t question it.

SOUND: Two sets of footsteps upstairs, one in heels. Carmen says something.

Shaz: Yes, it is.

SOUND: Carmen noises

Shaz: No, I haven’t been fired, because nobody fires you for getting new piercings.

SOUND: Carmen noises

Shaz: Well I don’t, I work for a creative branding company and we all dress like this, so… Where’s Riley?

SOUND: Carmen noises

Shaz: Gracias.

SOUND: footsteps approaching the basement

Riley: (bracing themselves) Oh lord, they’re coming.

SOUND: Shaz opening the door

Shaz: Play me in.

Riley: Just come down the stairs.

SOUND: The door slams, then opens again.

Shaz: Just play me in.

Riley: This is my basement, not Letterman!

SOUND: The door slams, then opens again. Riley groans.

Shaz: Riley I see the keyboard! Fucking play me in, coward!

Riley: (To Evelyn) Do you see what I mean? Just...just bear with me for a second.

SOUND: Riley walks over to their cheap electric keyboard and hits the same note a bunch of times over and over. Shaz opens the door and slams it behind them before going down the stairs.

Riley: Stop waving, there’s no audience.

Shaz: You don’t know that.

Riley: I do. I checked.

SOUND: Thump; a bookshelf rattles slightly. Riley sighs.

Shaz: Tell then what I did.

Riley: No.

Shaz: Tell them!

Riley: [Sighs; Frustrated] They did a balletic dismount off the bottom step.

Shaz: And I dabbed. Three times. Really fast.

SOUND: crinkling swishing fabric noises

Shaz: I did it again. Oh, I love that black lipstick on you, Riley.

Riley: It was intentional.

[BEAT]

Shaz: So I see your mum’s as charming as ever.

Riley: Well, you’re not crying and your eyes aren’t bleeding, so it went about as well as you could hope. How’s the family?

Shaz: They’re alive.

Riley: I’m sorry.

Shaz: Not everyone has the same family dynamic as you, Ri-Ri.

Riley: How about you just introduce yourself to the listeners? I can already feel them writing a two-star review.

Evelyn: What’s the extra star for?

Riley: My Mom rates well for some reason.

Evelyn: Probably fear.

Riley: People say they like her better than me. I hope she never finds out, because if she does it’ll just give her another reason to be disappointed.

Evelyn: At least you know she doesn’t listen to the podcast.

Riley: Knowing my luck, she’ll start as soon as this episode’s up.

Shaz: Hey, hey, um, excuse me, I’m feeling left out here.

Riley: Sorry, you’re just gonna have to get used to it. Introduce yourself.

Shaz: Fine, rude. (they clear their throat) My name is Shannon Nagore Martinez Arcuni, that’s long for Shaz, and I am a Libra-Scorpio cusp, Pisces moon, rising Taurus, if anyone listening at home is single and interested.

Riley: They aren’t.

Shaz: They might be.

Riley: They aren’t.

[BEAT]

Shaz: Anyway, fact- I’m an artist. Second fact- today I found a severed foot on the beach. Third fact - I’m an icon and you’re blessed for having me here. Riley, Evelyn...are we ready to fucking do this?

Riley: You can’t talk to Evelyn.

Shaz: Yet.

SOUND: Shaz opens up their backpack and takes out a cocktail shaker.

Riley: What are you doing with that cocktail shaker?

Shaz: Being a considerate podcast guest, actually. Continue the interview.

Riley: Uh...okay, so- You’re in town because you're involved in the touring exhibition You Probably Won't Understand This right now, correct?

SOUND: the sounds of Shaz pouring things into the cocktail shaker and shaking them, which continue throughout the conversation.

Shaz: Yup. I had to pay for my own airfare, which sucks, because I also had to take time off my day job for this, but I feel like it’s still gonna be worth it for the exposure. And I think I’ve scavenged enough antique jewelry on this trip to make up for it. Turns out Americans really love being buried with their valuables.

SOUND: Gap in conversation, punctuated by drink mixing noises.

Riley: And you’re -

Shaz: It’s fine, just pretend I’m not doing this.

Riley: That’s a huge ask.

Shaz: Just do it, it’s fine.

Riley: Um...okay… So, you wanna tell the listeners a little about what you’ve contributed to the-

SOUND: Particularly loud shake of the cocktail shaker.

Riley: Can you stop?

Shaz: I’m finished, anyway.

SOUND: They slam it down on the desk.

Riley: What the hell is that, anyway?

Shaz: It’s a Louisiana Clam Slammer, with a personal twist- I keep the vodka and tobasco, but instead of celery, I use shrooms, instead of a lemon wedge, I use a tab of acid, and instead of clam juice I use 300 mL of NyQuil. And then just a pinch of Lush’s ‘French Kiss’, just to take the edge off a little.

Evelyn: What’s that, some kind of fancy cream cheese?

Riley: No, it’s bubble soap.

Evelyn: Ohhhh, okay, so you’re all like this.

SOUND: Shaz skulls the drink straight from the shaker.

Riley: Great, we’ve only made 8 episodes and somehow this is the third guest to come on here under the influence. Really cool and classy of you to do that to me, Shannon.

Shaz: Thanks, it is.

SOUND: Shaz burps.

[BEAT]

Evelyn: Should we call a doctor? Their eyes are like...solid black right now and they’re sweating a whole bunch.

Shaz: I’m fine, that’s just the magic potion taking effect. This stuff works fast. It probably could’ve used more soap…

Riley: Wait...you can see Evelyn now?

Shaz: Yes. I made absolutely sure I would be able to. Because, unlike all of your other guests to this point, I went through the backlog of episodes, and familiarised myself with the lore.

Evelyn: Is it really lore if it’s just stuff that happens?

[Beat]

Shaz: Hi, Evelyn.

Evelyn: Hi, Shaz.

Riley: You know you can get ghost-detecting cameras online, right? Or you could’ve brought a ouija board, or done literally anything else that didn’t involve (they drop their voice to a stage whisper like they’re worried their parents might hear) bringing drugs into my house.

Shaz: Every product that claims to give you ghost vision is a scam. The only tested and true way to enter the spirit realm is by either dying, or tripping balls. And come on, do you expect me to sit here while Evelyn spells out everything she wants to say? On this podcast? Where you canonically are unable to edit out dead air?

Evelyn: You really did do your research on the lore.

Riley: It’s not lore! This is real life, it’s just stuff that happened!

Shaz: Evelyn knows I’m right.

Riley: It doesn’t matter, you still recorded yourself doing drugs. You could’ve done that shit before you got here, it would’ve been less incriminating.

Shaz: You think I trust myself to get on the bus while I’m high?

Riley: You could’ve called a lyft.

Shaz: I don’t have the app.

Evelyn: Uber?

Shaz: They refuse to serve me.

Riley: Oh, did you try to take the face off of your driver to prove he was a reptilian, too?

Shaz: ...No, Riley, I just puked in too many of their cars and now I have a zero star rating.

[BEAT]

Riley: This episode is a total fuckshow already, I can feel it.

Evelyn: You’re being too hard on yourself, Riles. All serious interviews have some opening banter.

Riley: Evelyn. Look at our guest. Look at them.

Shaz: Guys, I don’t wanna alarm anyone but I think the floor just disappeared.

Riley: This fool doesn’t even know what planet they’re on. They’re in no state to be interviewed by anyone.

Evelyn: Well, maybe then we do this less as an interview and more as a casual conversation.

Riley: I wrote down questions, Evelyn. There are three whole questions on this piece of paper. (shouting) Shaz. Put the fake cactus down.

SOUND: plastic cactus being dropped onto the floor.

Riley: Now look at me. Look me in the eye.

Shaz: Which one?

[BEAT]

Shaz: No, I’m serious, you have like 14 and most of them aren’t on your face.

Riley: I’m trying to interview you right now and I’d really like it if you stopped derailing, because we’re working on limited time.

[BEAT]

Shaz: Hi Riley.

SOUND: Riley groans.

Riley: So, walk us- which is to say, me, Evelyn, and the listeners- through some of the work that you’ve contributed to the show. What’s your usual medium? What’s the creative process like for you?

Shaz: Well, first comes the conceptualisation stage. That’s when I gather my ideas from the ether, and drag them, kicking and screaming, into the meat of corporeality.

Riley: And...how do you do that, exactly?

[BEAT]

Shaz: Do you think washing machines can taste our clothes? Do you think they have soap preferences?

Riley: Do you wanna do this another time? When you’ve...I dunno, sweated this out?

Shaz: Do what?

SOUND: Riley groans.

Riley: [slowly, angry] I asked you how you conceptualise your concepts. And then you started to answer me, but then you asked me if washing machines can taste. Can you answer my fucking question?

Shaz: Oh, but of course. I get some ideas from my dreams, which I record using a dream camera.

Evelyn: Ooh, what’s that?

Shaz: It’s a device comprised of an empty loo roll, a kleenex box, glitter, and an assortment of holographic stickers. I put it in my mouth while I’m sleeping.

Evelyn: That sounds neat!

Shaz: I also find inspiration in the world around me. I take photos incessantly, of everything. I’ve taken 6 since I’ve been here.

SOUND: Phone camera shutter

Shaz: 7.

Riley: They’re all of your knees.

Shaz: Correct. Right now I’m inspired by my knees.

Evelyn: So, once you’ve got the idea, what do you do to psych yourself up to make it?

Shaz: A crucial part of my creative process is this new form of visualisation acupuncture that I invented, where I set my intention, I hold it in my mind’s eye, and then I spell the words ‘good art’ on my arm with thumbtacks.

Riley: I’m not even gonna lie... that’s metal as fuck.

Evelyn: How do you have enough space on your arm to do that?

Shaz: I am vast and my arms are thicc.

Riley: We can see that, but thanks for clarifying for the folks at home. (To Evelyn) You know, I think we’re salvaging this.

Evelyn: I’m glad you’re thinking positively!

Riley: Now, how did you actually get involved with the art collective-

Shaz: Hey Riley do you have a dog?

[BEAT]

Riley: God damn it I was so close.

Shaz: Riley. Do you have a dog or not?

Evelyn: They don’t.

Shaz: Oh, never mind, he’s gone now.

[BEAT]

Shaz: He melted.

Evelyn: Aw, that's a shame.

Shaz: Can you see any of this shit I'm seeing right now? Is this stuff that's going on on the astral plane?

Evelyn: No, I think they’re just hallucinations. But I like the idea of being able to see a dog, and I'm happy that you got to see one.

Riley: Stop encouraging them! You're an enabler!

Shaz: Hi Riley.

Riley: Can you let me finish my question now?

Shaz: Yes.

Riley: How did you get involved with-

Shaz: If the ceiling suddenly lowered down onto us I think I could phase through it because I can control my atoms.

Riley: SHAZ.

Evelyn: Well I know for a fact that I’d be able to do that, but I dunno if you can actually control your atoms.

Riley: EVELYN!

Shaz: Riley, can you stop fucking yelling? Every time you raise your voice your aura pulses a horrible shade of neon orange and it’s hurting my eyes.

SOUND: Riley slams their head on the desk.

Riley: I want to kill everyone in this room.

SOUND: They sit up.

Riley: Shaz, please, for the love of Ghoul Jesus, how did you get involved with the collective that put together this exhibition?

[BEAT]

Riley: Stop staring at your hand and answer me!

Shaz: Oh cool, the dog's back!

Evelyn: Ooh, yay! Describe him for me.

Shaz: Blue, with many shifting eyes.

Evelyn: Cute!

SOUND: Riley pushes back their chair and stands up.

Evelyn: Where are you going?

Riley: Upstairs.

Evelyn: Why?

Riley: You've usurped me, you've made me out to be a fool, so I'm going to go to the store and get myself a coke.

Evelyn: Aw, c'mon, you don't have to-

Riley: Yes I do. Yes I absolutely do.

Shaz: C'mon, Rye-Rye, stop being such an audio nazi and fucking engage with us on this show.

Riley: This is your fault! Don't turn this back on me like I came in here high off my tits, talking about spectral dogs!

SOUND: Shaz says something to Riley in ghoul speech and Riley responds. They have a very short but very aggressive argument with each other that culminates in them making agitated hyena noises at each other before Riley storms off.

Evelyn: Was that an argument or is ghoul just one of those languages that always sounds angry?

Shaz: We were definitely arguing.

Evelyn: What did they say to you?

Shaz: If you were meant to know, we would've said it in English.

SOUND: The door slamming upstairs. Carmen makes noises.

Riley: (through the door) No, mom, they haven’t left yet.

SOUND: Carmen noises.

Riley: Go buy your own damn eggs!

SOUND: The front door opens and closes upstairs.

Evelyn: So...how do you know Riley’s family?

Shaz: My older brother is married to Carmen’s niece.

Evelyn: Huh. What’s she like? Your sister in law, I mean. Is she-?

Shaz: -the kind of person who asks to speak to the manager, and then stabs the manager with a bowie knife? Yes. Absolutely.

Evelyn: Yikes!

Shaz: You know, Evelyn, I’m glad we’re getting some one-on-one time. Because, between you and me, and the listeners, I’m not good with group conversations.

Evelyn: I never would’ve guessed that about you. You seem very comfortable.

Shaz: Thank you, it’s because of the drugs. Which, incidentally I mainly took because I knew if you and Riley started talking a bunch and I couldn’t hear both sides of the conversation I’d absolutely McFucking lose it.

Evelyn: Fair enough. It is kind of confusing when I can’t talk to the guests, anyway. So, how do you wanna continue this?

Shaz: Riley made reference to some notes or something.

Evelyn: They took them with them, I think. But I think you answered most of the things they wanted you to.

Shaz: Cool. Let’s just keep it fun and flirty, loosey-goosey, off-script, off-road, doors plus no fuss.

Evelyn: I feel like I just had a stroke.

[BEAT]

Shaz: I really wanna go ask the washing machine what soap he thinks tastes the best, but before I do that I should plug my shit.

Evelyn: We can wait until the end to do that.

Shaz: No, I’ll forget. I'll write down my website so you can link to it in the shownotes.

SOUND: Shaz starts drawing.

Evelyn: This is a picture of a snail, Shaz.

Shaz: Ask him the URL and he'll tell you.

[BEAT]

Shaz: Hi, Evelyn.

Evelyn: Hi Shaz.

SOUND: Shaz crumples up the paper.

Evelyn: What are you doing?

Shaz: I don't know.

Evelyn: You're eating the snail drawing.

Shaz: [with their mouth full] He told me to.

SOUND: They swallow.

Shaz: Do you like art, Evelyn?

Evelyn: Some of it, yeah. I took a few art history electives in college. I like modern art, mostly- Frida Kahlo, Barbara Kruger- I like surrealism, too. I used to have a poster of Magritte’s Son of Man up in my bedroom. I’m not familiar with contemporary work, though. Your kind of art seems a little out-there compared to the stuff I’m familiar with.

Shaz: That’s fine, not everyone can be as cool as me. One moment, please.

SOUND: Shaz stands up and walks over to the washing machine.

Shaz: Oh, you know what I wanna ask already? (pause) I’m not too loud, fuck you.

Evelyn: Listeners… Shaz is talking to the washing machine.

Shaz: (to the washing machine) Okay, yeah go for it.

SOUND: Shaz leaves a pause as if listening, then starts laughing hysterically.

Evelyn: Are you okay?

Shaz: [wheezing] She- can I tell Evelyn? She told me a joke- What does-

SOUND: They start laughing again.

Shaz: Nevermind, nevermind, I’ll tell you later.

Evelyn: Note to self- never say anything funny in front of Shaz.

Shaz: Did you say something?

Evelyn: No.

SOUND: Shaz sits back down.

Shaz: She says Tide tastes the best.

Evelyn: That would be good to know if I could do laundry.

[LONG PAUSE]

Shaz: Hi Evelyn.

Evelyn: Hi Shaz.

Shaz: What day is it?

Evelyn: The same one.

Shaz: Cool, cool. Hey, to any kids listening- don't do drugs. Well, maybe do drugs, do some drugs, but know your limits, and....uh....fuck....know your.....

SOUND: Pause. Shaz's stomach gurgles loudly.

Evelyn: You okay there?

Shaz: I don't feel so crash hot, actually. That Louisiana Clam Slammer is coming back to get me. Where's the bathroom?

Evelyn: Over there.

Shaz: [Quickly] Yep, cool.

SOUND: They get up and run to the bathroom. They throw open the door.

Shaz: Hi pizza man ghost, I'm so sorry for what you're about to see and hear.

Jon: Oh god, not again--

SOUND: The door slams. There are faintly audible vomiting sound effects.

[WEIRD AD TIME]

SOUND: Aggressive, slightly sinister electronic music starts playing while a British man starts talking loudly.

Voice Over: You could be one of the lucky few to make millions in the draw this week on Fred Bet. Go to Fred Bet.com to make bets on Fred.

SOUND: Cash register noises.

Voice Over: Fred is 55, he's single, he's an IT consultant, and he lives in Knebworth with his dog, Susan. You wanna make bets on Fred?

SOUND: The sound of a poker machine.

Voice Over: You can make any bets you want on Fred.

Bet on when Fred's gonna wake up.

Bet on if Fred's gonna have a cheese toastie or a burger for lunch.

Bet on if Fred's gonna finally say hi to the lady he always sees at the post office on Thursday.

Bet on which bus he takes home.

Bet on how long Fred gets to keep his job before he gets sacked.

Bet on if Fred's doctor is gonna find out about the brain tumor fast enough to operate.

SOUND: Poker machine jackpot noises.

Voice Over: You can win millions every week from betting on Fred! Go to Fred Bet dot com and place your bets on Fred.

Everyone's a winner, except for Fred.

SOUND: The music stops.

Voice Over 2: Over 18's only. Please gamble responsibly, unless you've got loads of disposable income - then you can just go hog wild, because, whatever, it's your money, I guess.

[END OF WEIRD AD TIME]

Evelyn: --And then he like does this effect to make the video slow down and go black and white, which is really cool. I really wish people could do Tik Toks of the whole song, though. I feel like you could make some really good content with like 3 minutes of TikTok time.

SOUND: Riley comes down the stairs, slurping a soda.

Evelyn: Oh, hey Riley! I was just filling the dead air until you got back. But I think we got another spectral commercial in there somewhere so I dunno if the listeners heard the whole thing. It was about Tik Tok. Have you seen that?

Riley: The Chinese government spyware app? Yes, I have. Has Shaz finally fucked off?

Evelyn: No, they're in the bathroom. They're not feeling well.

Riley: Karma, bitch.

SOUND: The bathroom door opens and Shaz comes back to their seat.

Shaz: So the bad news is, I'm sobering up, so Evelyn - you're kind of just a blob right now. Say something?

Evelyn: That sucks.

Shaz: Yeah no you sound like you're talking through a soup can on a string.

Riley: How long were you in the bathroom?

Shaz: Longer than I expected. It ended up being kind of a three-hole situation.

[BEAT]

Evelyn: Wh....what's the third hole?

Shaz: ...My mouth. What did you think it was?

Evelyn: I don't know.

Riley: Did you shit and puke out all the stupid, finally?

Shaz: Kind of. You missed a really good conversation. Totally loose and fun and flirty and fun and chill. Off-script, off-book, off-road...you get the idea.

Riley: I don’t.

Evelyn: We did have a really cool little conversation, though.

Riley: Well, I'll get to listen to it before we upload.

SOUND: They sit down.

Shaz: I hope you get a chance to come down and see the exhibit. I think you'll like it.

Riley: Yeah, I think I will.

Evelyn: Did that walk to the 7-11 do you some good?

Riley: Yeah, it did. Sometimes I just need some alone time.

SOUND: They slurp their coke.

Shaz: Evelyn's starting to fade a little.

Evelyn: Oh no!

Shaz: We've had a good time, though.

Evelyn: We did, and I'm sad Riley missed out on it.

Riley: I think it was for the best.

Shaz: Oh no, you're like full blurry now, you're like Gaussian Blurred to fuck. That's a little artist joke, for all you photoshop users.

Evelyn: Bye, Shaz.

Shaz: Bye, Evelyn.

[PAUSE]

Shaz: So I guess I'll go.

Riley: Yeah, it feels like it's about time. Sorry I said all that mean stuff about your mom.

Shaz: It's fine, I guarantee all of six listeners will have understood it, so we'll just pretend that argument didn't happen.

Riley: So, do you wanna-

SOUND: Shaz burps extremely loudly.

Shaz: Oh boy- kids, don't mix cough syrup with alcohol, and don’t mix that mix with other drugs. I feel like shit.

Riley: On that note, get out of my house.

Shaz: It was lovely speaking to you both.

Evelyn: Likewise!

Riley: Evelyn says she enjoyed talking to you.

Shaz: Me too.

SOUND: Shaz leaves.

Riley: Alright, so I better listen to what I missed out on. Speak to you all soon-

SOUND: Audio cuts.

Riley: Really gotta hand it to you, Ev- you're like the crazy person whisperer. It never ceases to amaze me how you can just wrangle these guests that I would've thought were impossible to get through to.

Evelyn: Yeah, when you talk to people on their level it's really not hard.

Riley: I don't get what you mean.

Evelyn: You know, just talk to them on their level. Like...don't yell at them, basically.

Riley: [clearly not on board] Well, maybe.

SOUND: Furious knocking, Carmen noises.

Riley: Hold on- They what?

SOUND: The door opens. More, less muffled Carmen noises. Riley sighs.

Riley: Evelyn, can you sign off for me? Shaz puked in the front hallway. I need to get a mop and bucket before the stain eats through the floorboards and into the foundation.

SOUND: Carmen noises

Riley: Ah, fuck, the eggs! I knew I was forgetting something!

[END OF EPISODE]