Well, hey there, you fine folks tuning in from
across the podcastiverse. You've stumbled into
Cold Reed's Hot Takes, the only audio drama where
the stories are short, the talent is big, and
your host probably should not be allowed near
a thesaurus after dark. Presented by the fine
folks at the voice support community, because
nothing says support like throwing a bunch of
dramatic weirdos into a recording booth and letting
them scream into a mic for art. Name's Randy.
I drive a tow truck. I make a mean bologna and
mayonnaise sandwich. And I've been told I have
the storytelling accuracy of a malfunctioning
GPS. But that ain't gonna stop me from bringing
y 'all some truly tasty tales cooked up by the
writers way smarter than me. Now, this here is
a show where every episode has a different theme.
Performed by folks with pipes smoother than buttered
catfish. And I'll be your host, your guide, and
your highly questionable narrator. Stretching
the truth like an old pair of old sweatpants
on chilly night. Now tonight's first tale comes
from the brilliant mind of Allison Cossack. She
rides like a possum fights. Quick, clever, and
slightly alarming if you ain't ready. This story's
called Super Frenemies. You ever had someone
who just grinds your gears? Pushes your buttons
and yet somehow ends up being the only one who
shows up when it really counts? Yeah, it's that
kind of vibe. Voiced by Eliza and J .R., who've
got so much chemistry they might set off a fire
alarm. We're about to dive into a world where
arch -nemeses ain't always what they seem. So,
grab your sandwich, crank up them headphones,
and prepare yourself. emotionally, spiritually,
and maybe gastrointestinally. Because this one's
going to hit you at about 142 % sass, 117 % heart,
and a solid 204 % baloney fuel chaos. Let's get
to it. This is Super Frenemies. Well, maybe that
was not the best idea. You think? Oh, come on.
You could have stopped me. Did you somehow miss
the entire 30 minutes that came before it when
I actively tried to stop you? I thought that
collateral damage was going to be bad. Right,
but you always stopped me before. You must be
losing your touch. You know, I've thwarted your
world domination attempts, what, eight? Nine
times? Are you counting the one where I genetically
engineered those giant hamsters to be venomous?
Because technically that one wasn't about world
domination. That was just more about being a
jerk. I think I was going through a midlife crisis
or something. Anyway, yeah. That doesn't count.
What about the time you added anti -caffeine
to the water supply? No, that one was definitely
about world domination. And I would have gotten
away with it too. If that herbal, tea -drinking,
hemp -sandal -wearing, chia -seed -eating Captain
Crystal and his clean -living lifestyle hadn't
made him immune to my devious plot. By the way,
I haven't seen much of him. Is that guy still
around? No, he died last year. What? Yeah, apparently
he heard that water was sentient, so he stopped
drinking it. Ah. Yeah, it didn't go well for
him. Apparently. And this one? World domination?
Ah, well... In theory, this was about world domination.
Mm -hmm. But you didn't think it through, really,
did you? Like I said, I expected you to stop
me. Hey, this is not on me. You're the one who
came up with this harebrained plan. Well, I think
I get points for actually making it work. I mean,
it was pretty well executed for a harebrained
plan, you have to agree. I do not have to agree.
Bah! You were always the lamest hero. That's
not true. That's not true. My fans love me. Yeah,
until you take off your mask. Then it's all,
dear gods, what is that horrible abomination
of quasi -humanity? Only because someone burned
me with acid. It was an improvement, if you ask
me. Yeah, well, speaking of which, how does it
feel to be everyone's favorite nine -fingered
villain? It feels fine. Oh, it feels fine. It
just doesn't feel with all ten fingers, does
it? You swine! Hey! Stop! Stop it! Ridiculous!
Do you... Do you still have it? I do. I've got
it on my mantle, next to one of Admiral Cockroach's
mandibles. It's kind of my shelf of nostalgia.
Look, I've made some... Bad decisions in my time.
Mm -hmm. But seeing as how we may be the only
two people left in the world now, maybe... Maybe
we should call a truce. Bygones? Are you just
trying to get me to let my guard down so that
you can kill me when I least expect it? Let's
just say I'm not not trying to get you to let
your guard down so I can kill you when you least
expect it. I'm not sure what that means. Well,
that's understandable. I am a doctor, after all.
You worked at a store that rented rug doctors.
Close enough. Whatever. Hey, fingers crossed
my favorite restaurant is still standing. Wanna
go check it out? What kind? Indian. Ah, I hate
curry. There are other things you can eat. Fine.
Bonus, it's all free. Downside, you may have
to cook it yourself. I can't believe you let
me kill all those people. You know, we've been
over this. Ooh! After lunch, you want to go to
the arcade and set all the games to free play.
Okay, I'm not gonna lie. That sounds pretty good.
Woo -hoo! Now that was a ride, huh? If you didn't
feel the twinge in your heart parts when those
two started throwing shade and then saving each
other in the same breath, well, I reckon you
might be emotionally constipated. Big ol' thank
you to Lizin's AR for bringing super frenemies
to life. Y 'all had the kind of tension that
could make a raccoon pause mid -trash can raid.
Now, let me just polish off the last bite of
this here mayonnaise -soaked bologna sandwich,
and we'll move right along. Now that... ...lasts
to taste childhood regrets and gas station survival.
Alright. Up next, we got a tale that swings real
different. This one's got a slow -burning, gut
-punching kind of story. It's called A Brotherhood
Broken. Written by Matt Ruckstar. Who, fun fact,
once described his own writing as if Shakespeare
in a whiskey barrel had an argument in the rain.
I don't know what that means, but it feels right.
Now this here's a story about treasure. But not
the fun kind of like gold or secret maps or that
weird chocolate money you get at Christmas. Nah.
This treasure don't just glimmer. It destroys.
What starts as brotherhood turns to backstabbing,
suspicion, and a whole mess of emotional debris.
Now, I gotta be honest with y 'all. I forgot
the names of the two actors in this one. Total
brain fog. Could have sworn one of them was named
Clint or maybe Janice. But I might also be thinking
about my cousin's wedding. Either way, they're
phenomenal, and they gave the script everything
but CPR. And even then, I think one of them tried.
So, buckle up. Story's packing about 121 % betrayal,
178 % emotional damage, and a solid 300 % dramatic
stares you can hear. Yes. He's a brotherhood
broken. It seems like yesterday. What does? The
moment we met. If I remember correctly, we were
sailing under Captain Gnarly. Your memory serves
you well. It was under him that we landed here
on the Isle of Ustana. And it was under him that
our friendship blossomed. Our task was to scout
the island. It was said that there would only
be trees and animals here. But we found more
than that, didn't we? By the gods, we did. A
cave off of the northern coast of the island.
We had to sleep in it because you thought you
broke your foot. I think you misremember, my
friend. We stopped because you were tired and
needed rest. I was only tired because I had to
carry you on my back after you broke your foot.
You have me there, friend. Much like you had
me back then in the cave. And while you slept,
I ventured deeper into the cave. Only a short
distance from the surface lay a mountain of gold.
More money than anyone would ever need. But apparently
not if you're building a kingdom. The neighboring
empires of Davimire and Mollward stood strong
for decades. But I think you know what happened
next. I knew. The gold ran out. And that is why
I have called you here today. The land of Davamire
spans across half the island, just as the land
of Walwood does. Back when we found the gold,
we swore to never claim the cave for our own.
Yes, if I remember, it was a blood oath. It took
a while to slice through your scaly skin. Ah,
yes. A blood oath. Thank you for helping my memory.
Now, can you help my memory a bit more? An old
dragonborn cannot remember as well as a half
-elf can. I can try my best, Blaine. Ose, my
friend. No, my brother. Why have you been stealing
from us? I beg your pardon? You heard me. My
men have spotted you and yours taking gold from
the cave and bringing it into your land. Blatant
lies. You call my men liars? You call your brother
a liar? You tell me the truth, then. Does it
not seem suspicious that the gold has run out
just as my men tell me these things? You tell
me the truth. What has our brotherhood meant
to you? We grew our empires together. We fought
off raiders together. Our children have married.
We are bonded not just by the blood we shook
hands with on that day many years ago. We are
bonded by the blood of family. and the blood
of battle. So I ask you again, what has our brotherhood
meant to you? Everything. It meant everything
to me. I would have laid down my life for you.
I would have ruled with you until the day I die.
That is why this betrayal hurts so much. That's
why my heart breaks. Tell me the truth, Os. Please.
So this is it. My words mean nothing to you.
The truth means more. Then you have wasted my
time. You call me to a trial that you have already
decided the verdict of. I did not call you here
just for that. I was hoping that it would not
come to this. Come to what? The land of Walward
is declaring war on the land of Davomir. You
monster. My people are not warriors. They can't
fight men twice their size with armor built into
their skin. You should have considered their
deaths when you broke our oath. That blood will
not be on my hands. It will be on yours. Blaine,
if you truly want war... I will give you war.
Prepare your men all you need. I will see you
on the battlefield, brother. Don't call me that.
You have lost that right. My enemy is not my
brother. Well, now. Brotherhood broken. Kind
of hits you right in the soul meat, don't it?
Like watching two best friends arm wrestle with
their hearts until the table snaps in half. Big
ol' shout -out to the two mystery actors who
brought themselves to life. Whoever you are,
y 'all deserve a trophy, a hug, maybe a gift
card to a trust -building workshop. Now, just
when you think we've reached peak drama and betrayal,
we swerve headfirst into the friendly little
cul -de -sac of our next tale. Except, uh, let's
say the only thing neatly trimmed here is the
lawn. The next story is called The Fence, written
by Gregory Dwyer, who's got a knack for taking
the American dream, flipping it upside down,
and seeing what rolls out from under the shed.
Literally. Starring the dynamic duo of Eliza
and Catherine, who are so dang good, I half suspect
they're powered by caffeine and unresolved personal
drama. This one's a slow sizzle. a whole lot
of shade. And I ain't just talking about the
patio umbrella neither. We got neighbors. We
got secrets. We got one suspiciously well -fertilized
backyard. And somewhere in there, maybe a missing
husband. Maybe a shovel. Maybe a whole episode
of Deadline waiting to happen. So, pour yourself
a nice tall glass of lemonade. Put on your noisiest
pair of sweatpants and settle in for a little
suburban chat that's packing 112 % tension, 184
% passive aggression, and about 299 % buried
regrets. This is the fence. It's not right. I
don't care what they say. It's just talk. It
isn't just talk. It's harmful to you. We've been
friends for years. Ever since you moved here.
I know. And I've told them that. But if it's
not true, why worry about it? It's just they
shouldn't suddenly attack us. Your neighbours.
Just because we're your neighbours. All over
one loud comment, someone said they heard Eric
yell at Paul. And whoever heard it and started
the rumour hasn't put their hand up. Despite
it being reported everywhere on the social media.
Well, you know the old saying. A rumour can travel
around the world while truth is still putting
on its shoes. That's a lie. No, it's a proverb.
I meant the quote is a lie can travel halfway
around the world while the truth is putting on
its shoes. Mark Twain, allegedly. Benefit of
a real education, June. Well, I was lucky to
be able to have one. Regardless, Sylvia, I do
think that gossip is starting to affect Eric
at home. No, look, Eric seems fine, keeping to
his regular routine, I see. I do love the way
he mows those lawns on the weekend. Paul can
never get ours looking as good as yours. No,
Eric always goes on about the natural fertiliser
he applies on schedule. I heard him discussing
it recently with Paul out the back here. Ad nauseum.
I don't think Paul was actually interested, but
he was polite. He stood there and listened. Even
thanked Eric. Oh, he listened. In fact, he came
in and told me all about the benefits of it.
Ad nauseum. Really? I hadn't thought he was interested.
Oh, yes. But Paul sort of idolises Eric a little.
A bromance, I think they call it. Often says
he wishes he could be more like him. Well, that's
aiming for underachieving. I suppose he hasn't
really changed his routine, despite all the gossip.
Funny. I thought he would be more worried about
Paul. He had talked a lot about him recently.
Really? Like I said, a bromance. So long as you're
not paying attention to what people are saying.
Not really. I look at what happens on all that
social media nowadays. Half of it is a lie. It
is amazing what has been said. I mean, my husband
goes off for a few days and there's gossip online.
Well, it has been more than a few days, Sylvia.
Yes, June, more than a few days. And it's not
normal, I know. But as you know, he hasn't been
that happy lately. And work, well... They happen
to plan a lot of pressure about the build schedule
for the mall falling behind. So him disappearing
at this time, it's not exactly helpful. And they
were pretty quick to call the police. Understandable.
It's a big project. They said they were concerned,
that's all. And, of course, the police were not
impressed that I didn't report him going away
immediately because, well, you know, I was a
little embarrassed. But that hasn't helped. Maybe
they'll start saying I'm a suspect in my husband's
disappearance. They're not. Well, they are. Me
and your husband. Well, anyway, Eric seems fine.
So long as he isn't letting the gossip bother
him. Have the police talked to him yet? Yeah,
they have. And you? Oh, yes. I've talked to Eric.
You know how many? I know. Yes, I have talked
to the police. Talked to his work and staff,
his colleagues. No one knows. Well, Sylvia, I'd
best get on. Eric will want some lunch in a few
minutes. We can only wait for Paul to come back
and see what he says. Clear up all the gossip.
By the way, I like Eric's new garden shed. Didn't
take that long to build once the slab was in.
I ain't saying the fans may be nervous, but I
did just go outside and apologize to my neighbor
for accidentally staring at their shade in 2014.
Big thanks to Eliza and Catherine for delivering
that slow burn masterpiece with the exact emotional
weight to finding out your garden gnome's been
watching you back. Now, let's give that tension
a nice little palate cleanse with... Oh wait,
nope, never mind! Next up, we're heading straight
into the international incident known as UK -US
breakup. Written by the sharp -witted Kirzu,
who's basically what would happen if history,
sarcasm, and emotional maturity all sat down
for a brunch and started passive -aggressively
throwing biscuits. This one's about the old special
relationship going a little less special. You
know how sometimes two folks been close forever?
Helped each other through thick, thin, and several
world wars, and then boom! One day they look
across the pond and realize, well heck, I don't
even know you anymore, do I? Yeah, it's that
kind of breakup. Real dignified. Real awkward.
Kind of like if the Revolutionary War had a couple
therapy sessions. Starring Allison and Brady.
Two vocal powerhouses who could make a grocery
list sound like Shakespeare in a thunderstorm.
This is a witty, warm, and weirdly relatable
tale about nations, nostalgia, and moving on
when the tea's gone cold and the acts that just
don't hit the same. Get ready for about 140 %
cultural tension, 200 % emotional diplomacy,
and 300 % unresolved feelings wrapped in polite
small talk. This. Right, well, thanks for coming.
I thought it would be good to have a bit of a
chat. Always. Love a good chinwag with my best
bud. Spatial relationship and all that. You guys
really love that phrase. It's like a pet name.
That you don't want to use. Oh, come on. You
know how we really feel about you guys. What?
You want to make it extra special? Some kind
of gold tier alliance? Oh. Should we get rings
matching flags? So, yeah, about that. Oh, come
on. I know what this is about. You're still rattled
about, uh, what was it? The aluminum tariffs?
Buddy, you know that was just a phase. I was
in a weird place. A lot going on. No, no. Not
exactly. It's more that it's... It's, well...
I think we need to take a step back. Wait, what?
A step back. A bit of space. Oh, I get it. This
is one of your little British jokes. A bit of
space. Good one. Christ, I love your humor. No,
I... Look, I just don't think this is working.
You've been all over the place. One minute we're
pals, the next you're imposing tariffs, making
impossible demands, picking fights with Europe.
Hell, you tanked NATO. Yeah, but that was just
for leverage. That's exactly the problem. It's
always for leverage. Every time I turn my back,
you're picking another trade fight, sanctioning
one of my banks, or unilaterally declaring my
fishing waters up for debate. Yeah, but that's
just how I am. You knew that about me. Come on.
You love that I'm a bit unpredictable. Keeps
things spicy. It's exhausting. Oh, I see how
it is. You're just going to walk away. After
everything? Who always had your back? Who was
there when you needed a war or a special forces
favor? Who shared intelligence with you when
you were leaking like a damn seed? You'd be speaking
German if it wasn't for us. I'm not saying we
won't still talk. We can be diplomatic. Oh, diplomatic.
Christ, you sound like a cheesy and surrender
monkey. I think France is doing quite alright,
actually. Oh, so that's it. You've been spending
time with Europe again, haven't you? I knew it.
I knew you'd go crawling back the moment I stopped
buying your overpriced biscuits. It's not like
that. It's just, you make everything so difficult.
Alright, alright, look, look. I get it. Things
got a little weird, but we can fix this. How
about a fresh trade deal? No chlorinated chicken,
I swear. I'll even pretend to like your weird
little puddings. You love a trade deal. God,
it's not about trade deals. Security deal? Extra
F -35s? You love F -35s. This isn't about jets,
mate. It's about trust. Oh, I see how it is.
Wow. I mean, just wow. After everything we've
been through. The invasions. The dodgy intel.
Iraq! We'll always have Iraq. Christ, this isn't
actually happening, is it? You're actually dumping
me. I wouldn't call it... Look, I just think
we need to move and... different directions.
Well, that's rich. You're supposed to be my ride
or die. We were the Anglosphere. I think... I
think you should go. Un -be -lievable. Un -fucking
- believable. Fine. Go ahead. Go crawl into Europe.
Good luck with that goddamn bureaucracy. I hope
you love filling out forms for the next 50 years.
Ni hao. Yes. Yes, it's me. So, funny thing. You
free for a chat? Yeah. No, we are... Actually...
A little bit more worried about the unchecked
power of multinational corporations now, actually.
Just wondering how sort of committed you guys
are to the violation of human rights. Yeah, well,
I mean, if Saudi and Iran aren't bothered, who
are we to... Right, yeah. No, it was more about
the whole Hong Kong thing, really. Yeah. Yep.
I know we gave it back, but... Yep. I'll tell
you what. If you're interested, we could meet
for a coffee? To talk? My schedule just opened
right up. Or, you know what? France and Germany
are coming over for a beer later. Maybe you could
join us? No, no. We broke up. Yeah. No, they
are going to move all their stuff out. Um, I
don't know. Don't you think it would be awkward
with the whole Ukraine thing? No, you don't have
to worry about them anyway. They are basically
your vassal now. Look, it doesn't have to be
anything formal, you know. Just a casual get
-together. You have a few drinks, chat about
our mutual fear of American hegemony. You don't
even have to tell Russia you're coming. Yeah?
Oh, I should have led with the U .S. hegemony
line. Great, cool. See you later, then. Well,
well, well. Oh, um... How long has this been
going on? Oh, oh. It's not like that. It's only
since you've been so... You don't have to explain.
It's all so clear now. I can see how much freedom
means to you, really. You know what? It doesn't
matter. Go ahead and tell King Musk and Premier
Bezos we said hi. UK U .S. breakup was like watching
your two oldest friends divvy up the couch and
the cat, wasn't it? Big thanks to Allison and
Brady for making that old line still all too
real. And only slightly like holiday dinner gone
sideways. Now, normally I'd wrap it right here
with a wink, a waffle, and a weird metaphor.
But tonight, I got a little bonus for you. A
Randy original. Based on real events. Allegedly.
So, picture this. I'm out late one evening, wrangling
a stubborn Dodge Neon that decided to die peacefully
right in the middle of Old County Road 3. I'm
halfway through hooking her up when I spot something
shimmering over in the field. Now, I ain't saying
I scare easy, but I did once mistake a goat for
the ghost of my Uncle Vern. So I eased up slow,
careful, real respectful -like. You know, like
the thing might explode or offer me a credit
card application. I'm there, sitting under the
busted floodlight, was a lone kid, no older than
ten, maybe eleven, wearing overalls, one strap
hanging down, knees dirty like he'd been digging
for treasure or secrets, or both. He looks at
me, dead serious, and says, You ever wonder where
frogs go when they lie? I say, I'm sorry, what
now? He nods like he said something profound
and points behind the shade and says, They sink.
They always sink. That's why you never trust
a dry pond. And then he vanished. Poof! Gone!
Only thing behind the shade was a half -dug hole
and a wet pair of cowboy boots. I don't even
know if the kid was real, but I tell you what.
Till this day, I take every pawn twice. And I
don't take frog advice. And that, dear listeners,
is your final tale of the night. Part ghost story,
part warning, and 100 % why I don't drink inspired
you who know more. Now, before you go, let me
hit you with the old PSA. This show gave you
even one chuckle, one gasp, or one uncontrollable
craving for mayonnaise -based lunch meats. Please,
do us a solid. Leave us a rating. Drop a comment.
Share it with a friend. Heck, share it with an
enemy. Build that bridge back with laughter and
audio storytelling. You've been listening to
Cold Reads Hot Takes. Proudly presented by the
Voice Support Community. Where talent runs deep.
And the weird runs deeper. And I've been your
host, Randy. I'll catch you all next time. Until
then, stay curious, stay dramatic, and whatever
you do, don't trust a dry pole.