Brains. Brains. Or, you know, Reeses cups if
you got any. All right, all right. Yeah, it's
me, Randy. Now, don't panic. I ain't undead.
I'm just playing zombie so the neighbor kids
don't notice I've been digging into their candy
buckets. It's called taxes, y 'all. Somebody's
got to teach them about the real world. I'm just
out here scaring kids in the neighborhood so
I can snag a few candy bars under the guise of
festive spirit. I call it the Halloween IRS.
Now, listen. Speaking of not -quite -right holidays,
y 'all got to hear this. So my cousin Daryl,
bless his confused little compass, decides to
take Luanne trick -or -treating yesterday. Not
on Halloween. Just... Regular Thursday. So there
they are, walking around the neighborhood. Daryl
dressed up like a cowboy and Luanne wearing,
well, to be honest, I'm not sure if it was a
costume or just her Thursday clothes. But she
had glitter and a feather boa, so close enough.
So they're knocking on doors, hollering, trick
or treat. And folks are looking at them like
they just stepped out in another dimension. One
lady gave him a can of green beans because she
thought they was collecting for a church pantry
or something. Another fella handed him a Bible
and said, Repent! My favorite. A mailman gave
him half of a stick of gum and said, Don't tell
nobody. And here's the kicker. Daryl thought
it went great. He tells me, Randy. Best part
is, no competition. We got the whole neighborhood
to ourselves. Buddy, you were begging strangers
for snacks on the school night. That ain't strategy.
That's loitering. But hey, that's family. And
if you can't laugh at them, well, you probably
are them. Now let me tell you. Halloween out
here in this neighborhood's a trip. Folks putting
up 12 -foot skeletons, smoke machines, lights
flashing like it's a haunted disco. And here
I am, wrapped in my old clothes, looking more
like a vagrant than a zombie. But, hey, you work
with what you got. So, tonight's episode is called
Spooked. And let me tell you, that is the right
word. Some of the stories we got lined up are
scarier than the time I found my cousin's ferret
riding shotgun in my truck wearing sunglasses.
And that, whew, that was terrifying. So, buckle
up, grab a fun size Snickers, and let's get creeped
out together. But, uh, if anyone's got a Milky
Way they don't want, go ahead and just slide
it my way. Zombies get hungry, too. First up
in our spooky buffet. We got a tale called Play
With Me. Now, don't let that title fool you.
This isn't about hopscotch or some cross -legged
play in Uno. Nope. It's about a guy wrestling
with some seriously pesky inner demons. And when
I say pesky, I mean like that one cousin who
clings to you at family gatherings. Relentless.
Persistent. And maybe, just maybe, it's got the
truth of a whole haunted lifetime wrapped up
in the claws. This piece was written by Steve
Lloyd, sound designed by the wizardry of Brady
Flanagan, and performed by Brady Flanagan and
A .J. DeLong. So, I'll let their talents speak
for themselves. Casey, I don't know what's real
anymore. The walls, they... they move when I'm
not looking. You understand, don't you? You always
understand. They're closing in, Casey. They're
always watching. I... I didn't ask for this.
I didn't ask to. It started with the voices.
At first, it was just whispers. Tiny things,
you know. Things that didn't make sense. Little,
little words in the corner of my mind. I tried
to ignore them, but it doesn't work. Nothing
works anymore. They... They keep talking. The
voices. The nursery rhyme. It always... It's
always the same one. It's always... Ring -a -ring
-a -roses, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes,
we all fall down. It's just a game, right? It's
just... Just a rhyme. It's... It's supposed to
be something innocent. Something... familiar,
but no one told me what happens after we all
fall down, did they? Oh, but Hallet, darling,
don't you know we've fallen long ago? The fall
is just the beginning, sweetheart. And what fun
would it be if we didn't play the game? No. No,
no, no. You. You're not supposed to be in control.
I'm... I'm the one. I'm the one who's supposed
to be telling the story. Not you. You're just...
just a shadow. A voice in the dark. Oh, Alice.
You still think you're the one in charge? That's
cute. Really, it is. Tell me, darling. Who's
the one telling you things in your sleep? Who's
the one in your ear when you close your eyes?
Who's the one making sure you never feel alone?
I hear them too, you know. It's not just you.
The others. They're all here. They watch me,
don't they? They're all inside me. Waiting. They
want to come out. They want to be free. Ring
around the roses. Forget bowler poses. Ashes,
ashes. We all fall down. Who do you think taught
you that rhyme, Alex? It wasn't your mind. It
was ours. All of us. Waiting. Watching. Ready
to take what's ours. What's that? What was that
noise? Please, Casey! I can't take it anymore.
You... You're making me hear things. You're making
me feel like I'm... Like I'm losing myself. Oh,
sweet Alex. You're not losing yourself. You're
finding yourself. You've always been here. We've
always been here. Don't you see? It was always
meant to be this way. No, no, no, please. Please
stop. Stop it. I'm begging you. Begging now?
How lovely. You should have begged sooner, Alex.
You're not in control. None of us are. We're
just passengers in this little game. All of us
tangled in the web. Falling down together. Ashes.
We all fall down. We're all waiting. We're all
inside. Come and play with us. We've always been
here. This isn't real! This can't be real! Stop
it! Please! Stop! But it is, Alex! We are all
of you! You are all of us! You'll never get away
from us! We're inside you! We are your mind!
We are your past! We are your... I don't know
who I am anymore. I can feel them. I feel them
moving inside me. They're alive, Casey. They're
alive. Of course they are. We are alive. And
now we get... Ashes, ashes, we all fall down
Ring around the roses, full of ashes It's not
me, Alex. It's you. The song. The voices. It's
all part of the band, sweetheart. You always
loved this song, didn't you? Back when you were
home. Back before you heard the whispers. Do
you want to play? A ring around the rosy, scotch
monopoly, red or grey. anymore I'm not I'm not
a toy stop it Casey stop it do you wanna play
play with me you do want to play don't you Alex
you love it you've always loved the game been
waiting. All of us in the shadows inside. It's
your life. Do you want to play? You're not in
control. You never were. I don't. I can't. I
don't want to play anymore. There's no way out.
Play with me, Alex. Or we'll make you! Momma's
gonna pour you a looking glass. And if that looking
glass gets broke, Momma's gonna pour you a hole
of smoke. If that hole of smoke fades away, Momma's
gonna take you where the shadows lay. If you
don't fall asleep, Momma's gonna... You. Never.
Die. No! Please! You've always wanted to fall
asleep, Alex. But you don't get to wake up anymore.
It's over, Alex. You're here. This isn't real.
This isn't real! Casey! Casey! Please! Please!
I can't! I can't do this anymore! I don't want
this! I don't want to play! I don't want to be
one of you! But you are with us, Alex. You always
have been. Little baby, don't say a word. Mama's
gonna buy you a mockingbird. Well, dang. That
right there was play with me. And let me tell
you, I don't spook easy. But if something in
the dark ever whispers that at me, I'm out of
there faster than a squirrel on a trampoline.
That was one man throwing hands with his own
shadows. And honestly, I'm sweating just listening.
Now, speaking of honesty, I got a confession.
Every Halloween, I go trick -or -treating for
one thing and one thing only. Wax teeth. You
know the ones. Bright red gums, white as snow,
look like they belong in some hillbilly Dracula
starter kit. Love them. Folks tell me, Randy,
you ain't supposed to eat those. But let me tell
you, chew on them long enough and they taste
like victory. Shoot, last year I came home with
three pounds of them. My dentist said my molars
looked like candle stubs, but it was worth it.
I keep a pair in my glove box just in case. You
never know when you'll need a good set of emergency
chompers. Anyway. While I'm sitting here grinning
like a wax -mouthed fool, y 'all get ready. Because
the next story is creeping up behind you like
a cold brace or a broken window. It's called
Aw Jays. And it's about something near and dear
to my heart. Food competitions. Two rivals facing
off at a hot dish contest. Trying to prove who's
got the better casserole. And let me tell you,
it ain't just the oven that's heating up. Turns
out the competition's rising higher than the
tater tots on top. And maybe, just maybe, they'll
learn a little something about each other along
the way. This one's cooked up, well, I mean,
written, and sound designed by Brady Flanagan
and acted out by two folks with voices smooth
and then jello out of church potluck. That's
right. It's Eliza Rinoffson and Emily Morsley.
So grab yourself a fork, loosen your belt one
notch, And say to Layton, this here's all Jays.
Ah, gee, Sandra. You've really gotten yourself
into a pickle here. And all of this over a gosh
darn hot dish. Okay, Sandra, think. Think, think,
think, think, think, think, think. The doors
are going to open to the public in ten minutes.
What would the public do if they knew their 1976
Miss Minnesota Minx was capable of something
like this? Oofta! More important, what would
they say? The ladies at the Rotary Club would
eat my reputation alive. Even if they understood,
the sheriff likely wouldn't allow a book and
tea club at the county jail. No, Sandra, murder
isn't county jail at all. That's straight to
prison. Oh, and probably H -E double hockey sticks,
too, I bet. Now, ladies, ladies, I promise to
sign all of your books, but only at the reading
event on Thursday. Of all people, Miriam Moore
arrives early? Gotta think fast. No, no, no!
My publicist would eat me alive, don't you know?
How do you prepare my hide using one of the many
new recipes found in the new 2025 edition? That's
right! It's easy to be content even in six surprising
marinades. Guaranteed to make your husband just
pop with excitement. Well, I'll be! That can't
possibly be Sandra Mae Gifford, can it? Why,
I thought that you had retired from city little
competitions like this. I wouldn't blame you,
of course. I hear that with advanced age, a woman
could lose her sense of taste. Looking at your
outfit, I think we can confirm. Oh, where are
my manners? How the heck are you, hon? Oh, you
know, Marianne, the husband and I just booked
a cruise to the Bahamas with his substantial
bonus. It's so nice having a husband of means.
Oh, shoot. I forgot about your situation. How
rude of me. How is James doing with his new little
trollop? Maybe we can do a walk and talk about
it over in the hall. Oh, did James leave? Well,
good heavens. I guess that I hadn't noticed what
with all the press events that my book has garnered.
It is so lovely to be independently wealthy.
Independently? Sorry, maybe I have the term mixed
up in my head. I can be such a doofus sometimes
because I thought that you took James for everything
he's worth in the divorce settlement. In fact,
aren't you now the majority stakeholder in the
Gazette? Seems like your book tour may be a conflict
of interest, but what would I know? I wouldn't
underestimate the shallow depth to the answer
to that question, dear. Well, this sure as sugar
has been a sweet conversation, but I'm afraid
I left some things... out in my car. I should
just... Oh, my good heavens, Sandra Mae, what
happened to your hand? Oh, it's nothing. Just
some red food coloring, that's all. In a hot
dish? Well, you really must be getting senile
in your old age. Poor thing. You don't want to
accidentally poison the judges. You really should
call it quits while you can still do it with
dignity. You know, that might just be a path
for me, Marianne. Now, if you'll excuse me. Sandra
Mae, what is that under your table? No, no, no,
no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. You,
um, you don't understand. I really need to go
and, um, you should too because I, um, I swear
I smelled some gas. No, don't, don't go under
there. Old Mrs. Sandra Mae Gifford has been a
naughty little nymph. For shame. Who is that?
Is it... Sandra Graves. The mayor's wife, no
less. Tsk, tsk, tsk, Sandra Mae. Please, Marianne.
Please don't tell anyone. I promise I'll give
you anything. I swear on my grandchildren. Anything.
You know, Sandra Mae... I've always considered
you to be a tabletless hack. But my, how I've
misjudged you. Uh, thank you? This is, wow. It's
like I'm meeting the Pablo Picasso of murder,
you know. What is that right there? It's my bread
hook for my KitchenAid. Well, I'm glad that you
found the tool that you needed. Get it? Needed?
Oh, for sure, you know. That was a good one,
Marianne. What did she do to you? I walked in
and she was just replacing all of our salt shakers
with sugar all willy -nilly. That devious little
troll. If only you knew someone with the power
and influence to make all this go away. Hmm,
it's a puzzler, don't you know? as heck a noggin
scratcher. What do you want, Marianne? I want
to help you, Sandra Mae, if you'll let me, that
is. Right now, I'm not sure you want my help.
Marianne, can we just... If only I were to know
if you wanted me to help you out, especially
with the doors opening to the public in, what,
two minutes? Marianne? Ask me! Oh, jeez. Will
you help me, Marianne? For an old friend like
you. Emphasis on the old, of course. I think
we can come to an arrangement. One moment. What
are you... Shh. And... Sent. I just bought us
another hour. Hour and a half tops. How? Don't
you worry about it. Consider it an investment
from my ex. Okay, then. Here, grab Sasha's feet,
would you? Where will we... Don't worry about
it. I have a guy. Oh, and before we get started,
one thing I should mention. Oh, here comes the
gosh darn atomic bomb. Oh, settle your sandals,
missy. Nothing big. It's just interesting, you
know. What? Just saying is all. You know, James
never did remove me from being his life insurance
beneficiary. Strange, wouldn't you know? Just
speculating all possibilities. Maybe he could
meet a bread hook of his own, you know? I think
we can work together. Oh, jeez. I'm gonna be
sick. Stay with me, Sandra Mae. We've got work
to do. Starting with taking care of this bitch.
Well, folks. That there was all Jays. A hot dish
rivalry spicier than my Uncle Clyde's chili cook
-off. And that man once used lighter fluid as
a secret ingredient. Real story. Trick or treat?
Trick. Now hold on. I came all the way out here
in 5 % zombie makeup, walking bow -legged like
I've been hit by a raccoon. And you're telling
me trick? That's the rule, Randy. You said it.
Drake. Dang it. My eye's gone full disco. Tell
me there's insurance for this. Happy Halloween.
Dang it. Okay, okay. Well, guess I'll eat my
tootsie rolls for the sight of humility tonight.
Point is, sometimes rivalry's sweet. Sometimes
it stings. And sometimes it just leaves you looking
like a piñata that lost a fight. Our next tale
ain't about candy or confetti. It's darker. More
bitter. And it'll leave you thinking twice before
taking another sip. Ladies, gents, and anyone
who's ever had a rivalry that got a little messy,
brace yourselves. Here's a sip of treachery.
Written by N .J. Unwin, sound designed by Brady
Flanagan, and brought to life by the remarkable
Brady Flanagan and Brandon Barlow. A struggle
rages between long -time enemies, and every revelation
tastes like betrayal. Drink carefully, friends.
The results? Well, they're deadly. Spread out!
Search for that knife here. The one who brings
me his head will be paid in the other's rations.
Find him! With a bounty like that, they'll be
searching all night. Good thing you've got me
right here to keep you company. Let's not be
hasty. That tickle under your neck isn't the
breeze. It's two feet of garrote that will quickly
bring about your silence. What do you want, dainty
one? A airbrush. We'll have me boys make one
for you out of your fingers. No, but I do appreciate
your creativity. I'm not quite sure, to be honest.
The night's events are quite hazy. Too much to
drink, I guess. I honestly didn't expect to get
this far, but now that we're here... Yes, now
I remember. Dragmure, right? Such a quaint town,
but really gone downhill lately. Noise complaints
I hear. The blood of those people will stain
your lands forever. Those children. More children.
Your ten years of peace was rather boring. Turns
out covering up your appetite proves much harder
without a war to cover the tracks. Oh, yes. The
war. Your war. Sustained by you only for the
sustenance it provided your people. Tell me,
Featherbones. What would the other races say
if they learned of the real purpose of their
prolonged suffering? My dear friend, I don't
think you understand your current predicament.
You're about to be drained of the very essence
of your being. This is no time for intimidation.
Although it does make for a more interesting
meal. Oh. No, Barkbiter. You are the one who
has misjudged the cunning of the Orc. My scouts
aren't searching for you. They carry a message.
The other races will know of your treachery.
Descend upon your people and eradicate them from
existence. The hills will quake with the bolts
of armies. The thunder of war cries and sword
song will deafen your cities. Your people's blood
will feel their... Sounds like we need to prepare
for a feast then. Well, folks, that was a sip
of treachery. And let me tell you, it's a reminder
that grudges, no matter how long they've simmered,
can turn downright poisonous. I was on the edge
of my seat the whole time, listening to every
little move, every sly smile and calculated word.
Wondering who'd crack first, who'd betray, and
who'd get what was coming to them. And the ending?
Oh, boy! And it hits like a shot you didn't see
coming. Bitter, bloody, and unforgettable. And
if there's one thing that story teaches you,
never underestimate the weight of old rivalries.
And sometimes, the smallest act, just a sip,
can change everything. Well, if a sip of tree
left a little bitter taste, You better hold on
to your forks for this next one. Our next tale
isn't about candy or rivalry. It's about a meal.
A meal that might just be your last. I give you
Bold Appetite, written by Matthew Curran, sound
designed by Brady Flanagan, and brought to life
by Jared Griffiths and Gregory Dwyer. A business
dinner takes a dark turn when the cuisine...
...becomes... ...extreme. And one diner? Well,
they'll soon find out exactly what's on the menu.
And what could yet be. Theodoros Triantafilo.
Welcome to the taste of Osetania. You'll have
to forgive me, I still have trouble pronouncing
your name. Well, we already agreed you can just
call me Theo. Oh, I'm well aware. But I like
saying your name. Theodoros Triantafilo. It's
something that rolls off the tongue. I think
it's fitting for someone of your stature. I can
tell a fat joke when I see it. What did you order
this time? I told you I was gonna be late. This
place is a little off the beaten path. The obscure
usually have the most promising delicacies. Its
lack of mainstream reputation is exactly why
people of our status can enjoy such fine meals.
Oh, you got that right. I was really sick of
Marseilles. Too many immigrants and polluted
as any landfill. I appreciate the countryside
for containing what you Americans say, having
hidden gems. I am surprised you would even know
a place like this. Yes, well, not all of us are
so into ourselves. It's bad for a businessman
like me to indulge in ignorance. You know how
it goes. Tonight, I have ordered a very curious
dish. I'm sure you've heard of it. Oh? What is
it? Some Ortolan bunting. Mmm. Didn't think it
would be legal at all here. Well, for us, that
doesn't apply. The dish is still being prepared.
Don't tell Peter about this place. It all faint.
I assume you have a cloth to cover yourself with.
Oh, I'm not going to need it. Cal, if you know
about bunting, you should know it's custom to
eat under the cloth. To shield from God's eyes.
Such a decadent act. I know. But God's not here.
You know what I mean. Well, I like to consider
myself a bit shameless. You see, Theo, I like
this place because they prepare their dishes
in an interesting way. Well, I wanted to go ahead
and check in on my protege. Evander? He's doing
good so far. So far? Having doubts? He's a good
man. But he could be a great man. I've been sending
him on certain ventures. But his sensibilities,
well, they make me question his... Competence?
His character. As the SVP of Thalassan, you should
know our arrangement was clear. Send me someone
with the will to further the interests of Vitek.
In turn, we'll align ourselves in the interests
of your company, as well as that of your nationalist
allies in the Mediterranean. Evander is capable.
He moved mountains to grow our business. Every
product, every shipment. What about off the books?
Off the books? What are you implying? The business
I represent has particular products it needs
moving around. But we have to deal with customs,
Theo. Evander didn't want to cooperate. I know
you trained him well, and he is quite capable.
But he's also rigid. So he falls short of your
expectations. We've been friends for a long time,
Theo. We've always been whining and dining. I
know how much his success and growth means to
you. So, I decided to adjust accordingly. Reassignment?
I had to guide him a certain way. And oh, did
he do it well. So think of it more as promoting
him to greater status. That doesn't tell me much.
There's no need to be concerned. In fact, I invited
him to join us for dinner. This is supposed to
be a private affair between two of us regarding
work. There is no need to worry. This is relevant.
Oh, here's our dish. It's quite a big dish. You
said it was just bunting. Well, you're more than
welcome to take some of it to go. Server, if
you may. What is this? What? You don't recognize
Evander? I'll admit, he looks great as an entree.
I never would have guessed, given how much we
stuffed him before we soaked him in Armagnac.
It's really quite impressive. What could he do
other than eat in the darkness? What a scavenger.
Evander was a very giving person, Theo. Didn't
have the stomach regarding the product. Wanted
to let them go. Maybe because a lot of them were
sold from Spain? Italy? Greece? He was fine with
the illegals. Silver lining, I guess. But we
make no exceptions in this particular sector.
Flesh is flesh. Damn you! What bestial inhumanity
is this? Don't tell me you feel for a good man.
Save your heart for the deserving. Otherwise,
it's... Empathy. And as I said before... Empathy
is psychosis for the masses. For what greater
delusion is there than identifying with the suffering
of things? What kind of man are you? I'm going
to make a friendly suggestion. As someone who
is your peer. Send me a great man. Not a good
man. A great man. To oversee our business. Or
we will make him great on our terms. What makes
you think I will accept this outrage? Oh, I don't
know, Theo. To be honest, you're already getting
close to being a great delicacy yourself. Why
do you think I invited you to all these dinners?
Wait. We can talk this out. And we are, Theo.
You see, my associates want to work with you
and your people. Just bring me the men who have
the will and want to make our mark on the Mediterranean.
We will compromise on just the immigrants and
the non -citizens. Otherwise... We will never
discriminate on any flesh within your lands.
Now, my friend, bon appetit. Well, that was bon
appetit. I tell you, it's got me thinking twice
about business dinners. Or any dinner, really.
One wrong bite. One little misstep, and things
could get real dark, real fast. The tension,
the suspense. I swear I could taste it with every
bite they took. Makes you hungry, but in a kind
of nervous, what's coming next sort of way. I
mean, I'm starving, my stomach's rumbling, and
yet part of me ain't sure I want to dig in too
fast. Still. A story like that makes a man appreciate
his food and double -checking what's actually
on the menu before taking a bite. Folks, that's
a wrap for tonight. We've had inner demons, food
rivalries that burn hotter than chili, ships
of treachery that'll leave you rethinking every
grudge, and dinners that remind you to check
what's really on the menu. Me? Well, I'm hungry.
I'm a little jittery. and I'm definitely never
looking at a business dinner the same way again.
But that's the fun of it, ain't it? A little
fright, a little suspense, and maybe, just maybe,
a story that sticks with you long after the lights
go out. We all know that Halloween's here, and
that means candy, costumes, and chaos. So before
you run out into the night like a sugar -fueled
zombie, let old Randy give you a few friendly
pointers. Number one. Watch where you stape.
Leaves are slick, curbs are snaky, and I swear
I saw a raccoon wearing a tiny witch hat last
year. Don't be that person tripping over a jack
-o' -lantern and ending up in your neighbor's
pumpkin patch. Number two, check your candy.
Yeah, I know, everybody's got a sweet tooth,
but don't just grab any old thing off the porch.
Unless you want to be surprised by a sour gummy.
that hits you like a ghost in the ribs number
three keep your friends close your flashlight
closer and remember not every knock on the door
is a trick or a treat some might just be trouble
so go on have fun dress up laugh eat your tootsie
rolls Just don't let your candy or your common
sense walk out the door without you. So until
next time, keep your witch about you, your candy
close, and whatever you do, watch what's on your
plate. Happy Halloween, folks. Brains. No, that
ain't it. Brains. No, no, no. Maybe more in the
back of the throat. Let's try this. Brains. Brains.
Brains. Or at least maybe some liver.