Chapter Text
Actions speak louder than words. Feelings smell stronger than words. Thoughts are far denser than words. Words are incomprehensible, and therefore the most dangerous of all.
Welcome to Annville.
[Intro Music - AMC Preacher’s Title Theme ]
Good evening, listeners.
Here at the station we’ve been receiving numerous calls, letters, and bloodstone summons asking fervently that we bring back our popular spot, Cooking with Jesse. Now... I must admit that I was humbled by this response. I had no idea y’all enjoyed my mixed drink recipes so much! Beer, whiskey... they make wonderful nightcaps-- or morningcaps, afternooncaps, 5:00PMcaps, the perfect dinner replacement in a pinch-- but if you really want to spice things up, you’ll want to cook up a mixture of pure rubbing alcohol, some coffee machine descaler, and a bit of the shit you’d find dripping out of the back of your government-sanctioned air conditioner. Remember, if your air conditioner is working, y’all are in violation of Code 66 and must report to the authorities immediately .
But!
[Clink of a glass]
Y’all already know about my fondness for the good ol’ firewater, listeners. Today, as a welcome back to this portion of the show, we’ll be hosting a very special guest instead: my girlfriend and your Supreme Ruler, Mayor Tulip O’Hare. She’ll be presenting us with her town-famous recipe for vanilla hash browns. So stay tuned! It’s guaranteed to be a segment you won’t want to miss.
In other news, our town council would like to announce the opening of a new dog park in Annville, right at the corner between the diner and the Toadvine Whorehouse. It’s a beautiful dog park, listeners—or so I’ve been told—filled with all the exciting, dangerous things you’ll need to entertain yourself and your four-legged friend. However, Sheriff Root and his secret police would like to remind everyone that people are not allowed in the dog park. You are not allowed in the dog park. Any dogs entering the dog park must be named Brewski. Failure to abide by these rules will result in a $200 fine and an extra five years served in the Blood Desert War. Please take care around the dog park. It may harm you.
Seriously, listeners...Terri Loach? The lady whose poor daughter... well. We all know what happened to her. Anyway, Terri Loach went to get some fresh air (good for her and all that!) but apparently she tried to take her dog, named Skeeter , into the dog park and…the results were not pretty.
[Sigh]
My heart goes out to that whole family. It really does.
Now, I think—
[Phone ringing, ominously]
Ah, it looks like we've got a caller! [Picks up phone] Ahem. [Puts on a horrible Australian accent] G’day mate, welcome to the Pancakes Anonymous Hotline. For our maple syrup assistance, please press 1--
Cut the shit, Jesse. I know it's you.
Oh hey! Listeners, it's Odin Quincannon-- You know, the meat guy. What can I do for you, Odin? By the way, uh, we’re live on-air… not that it usually makes much difference to you.
Nope, it sure as hell don't.
Haha, of course. Listeners, in case y'all haven't gone outside in a few years, Mr. Quincannon (y'know, the meat guy) is the president of QM&P, the lovely folks who are responsible for that giant and very tasteful billboard of a slaughtered pig that greets us all on the highway exit for Annville.
C’mon now, you can't blame me for advertising… QM&P is responsible for most of the jobs in this godforsaken town.
And we are all so grateful for you. As a matter of fact, your friend Mayor Tulip is stopping by later--
That hopped-up girl ain't my friend.
[A few seconds of crackly radio static]
… You know what? You better get to whatever you called about, because I'm ready to hang up now. Tulip's been nothing but diplomatic, and QM&P has been-- pardon my French, listeners-- nothing but a bucket of cow shit in return. That's something you're familiar with, right Odin?
Hmph. How about you tell Tulip she can--
[Phone click]
Oops, listeners, looks like we dropped the call. Old phone lines and such, what can you do?
[A few moments of quiet and the sounds of a glass being emptied]
So, listen. I mean, that’s what you always do, you’re my listeners after all. But really, just listen for a moment, because I have BIG NEWS, Annville, and I—I—
...I’m not quite myself.
There’s something to be said for balance, isn’t there? When life hands you lemons you make municipally approved lemonade, right? And when life hands you sanctimonious sacks of shit whom, for the sake of keeping the peace shall remain nameless, but their surname may or may not rhyme with sin-fanon-- Apparently, life soothes those things over by giving you blessed perfection .
There’s a new man in town, listeners, and I fell in love instantly.
At least... I think he’s man. Who is he, exactly? What does he want? Why his skinny frame and perfect teeth? Why the tattoos that sometimes seem to shift and change shape? He claims he’s a vampire, but aren’t we all vampires? We feed off of friends and family and acquaintances. That poor sales clerk you accosted, dumping a decade’s worth of marriage problems on her while she bagged your food—do you really think she’ll get those ten minutes back? We consume in horrible, selfish ways, but this man says he consumes only blood. Like... not just during the annual organ tasting? Just all the time??
Wow.
He’s beautiful. A lot like how our new dog park is beautiful. Listeners, if any of you know his name I demand that you call in immediately .
Ahem.
[Clears throat]
[Radio static, faint mumbling from afar] I wonder if he’d like Tulip...
More on this as I stalk our new arrival heartily.
This just in: Annville residents are reporting that a strange, malevolent portal has opened up in the abandoned church. Witnesses claim that they can smell sulfur, rotting eggs, the sour stench of dishes left three weeks in the sink... and they can hear howls. Terrible, agonized wails issuing up from the floorboards. They sound like they’re coming from depths of Hell itself. The noise is drawing people in from all over town and interrupting everyone’s daily ritual of shooting their rabid squirrels.
I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, listeners. Though I’ll send our new intern out to learn more. Yes, we all miss poor Anne. No one was expecting her to get sucked into that sentient mud hole while reporting on our annual laser tag hunt. What a terrible, unexpected fate. She will be missed... but y’all are going to love Eugene! He’s very into journalism and very helpful around the station. You might even know him already, as our own Sheriff Root’s son. Or perhaps as The Faceless Young Man Who Secretly Lives in Your Home. I’ve certainly never seen his face. Though he’s turned up in my home once or twice! I hear he’s having family troubles...
Ah well. Time for the community calendar:
- Monday is officially fictitious. I'm sure everyone’s thankful for that! Starting this Monday, look forward to a full 24-hours that simply no longer exists.
- On Tuesday, our beloved local diner will be offering double price burgers. That's right, y'all! The burgers you love, twice as expensive as normal. No added bonus, just added profits! I wish every day was Double Price Tuesday. [Wistful sigh] And… just a random thought, but… does our diner actually have a name ? ... No? Huh. Emily, our all-knowing station management, says it doesn’t. It's never had one, she says, not during all the time she’s existed on this plane anyway. Well! Call in now to name the town diner. If your suggestion is chosen, we'll TRIPLE the price of your burger this Tuesday!
- Wednesday is Grandparent’s Day. Now, I know what y’all are thinking, Annville… you're probably excited about the prospect of those old-fashioned caramel candies. Just remember, not everybody is so lucky when it comes to grandparents. Sometimes, instead of candies, you get a heart full of bitter anger… and hatred, and spitefulness… and sometimes you get a really bad tattoo. At least if it's in the center of your back, you don't have to look at it all the time. [coughs] Moving on...
- On Thursday, there is a chance of snow. It's not a very high chance since, y'know, we’re in this beautiful west Texas desert… but there's always a chance. That's what makes life interesting. Just like there’s a chance that this new stranger will like me and talk to me and maybe someday, after a long, beautifully bloody courtship, we’ll move into a house together and get our very own Brewski to love and hold and--
Oh. [loud, inhumane noises] Emily is yelling at me, listeners. I suppose there’s a high chance I’ll be continuing with the community calendar now...
- Friday, as we all know, is the day for our weekly offerings to the Sheriff’s secret police. Sheriff Root has informed me that he's running out of space in his house for all the La-Z-Boy chairs y'all have so nicely procured, so this week he's switching over to offerings of frozen pizza dinners and/or fuzzy velvet paintings of dogs playing cards. Hm, I'll have to get Eugene to help me procure one of each. I'm sure he won't mind.
- Saturday… Well, I'm free on Saturday. Mostly free. Yes, Emily, I know I should be writing up next week's programs… but just in case some mysterious stranger that might've wandered into town is listening, and who might have gotten a little freaked out about my previous… uh… fantasy ... I wouldn't be opposed to starting small! Like going out for some coffee? Or Chinese food? Do you think he likes Chinese food, listeners? He seems like the kind that wouldn't be too picky…
…
Oh, sorry--SORRY, EMILY--I was just thinking out loud. Ahem.
- And finally, it looks like Sunday will be pure and unending angst from 9:00pm-10:00pm EST.
This completes the community calendar.
If you forget where you should be and why you’re there at any given moment, you can check the calendar on our website at www-dot-AnnvilleRadio-dot co--
Umh, Jhesshe?
Yeah, what is it Eugene? Sorry listeners, our intern seems to have a question.
Uhh... I'm not shhure what you wanth me to do with the churchhht…
Well it's pretty simple. We got a call about that portal to Hell opening up, and that is important news that needs reporting! You want to be a journalist, right? Grab a pen and get out there, Eugene!
But, umh, you want me to… go?
Yes, Eugene, go!
I'm shorry Jhesshe but I'm still not shhure--
GO, EUGENE .
[Sound of door slamming]
Sorry about that, y'all. For all his enthusiasm, real journalism can be intimidating… but that's why I like having interns here, to really show them the true nature of the beast. Sometimes that beast is a portal to Hell. Sometimes it has claws, and too many teeth, and eyes that reflect in the darkness… Oh, by the way, your hair looks nice today, Emily. That's station management for you, always put together and keeping us on-air. Otherwise y'all would never get to hear the voice of yours truly.
[Rustling papers]
Breaking news, listeners. It appears that two more strangers have just entered Annville-- we sure are popular today! Citizens describe one as being not exactly tall and the other as not exactly short. They are pale and thin and only one of them sports a beard. They carry a mysterious trunk with them... as well as a coffee can that’s making unmentionable noises. Both wear cowboy hats (the visitors that is, not the trunk and can) and the not exactly tall one apparently has the singing voice of an angel.
Actually...Tulip just texted me saying they are angels. Literally . And... if I can be honest, listeners, I don’t know why she’s being this way? Her texts seem a little harsh. I’d read them out to you but frankly there are a couple phrases in here that aren’t meant for our younger crowd. Plus, since when does she believe in something like angels? Our mayor has always had an open mind--it’s one of the reasons we love her!--but everyone knows that angels don’t exist. They’re just like mountains. Or government clones! Angels definitely aren’t an actual thing
Seriously, Tulip... are you alright?
Well. She’s probably just stressed about a certain meeting with a certain meat-obsessed jackass--pardon my french once again--and I, for one, can’t blame her. Don’t worry sweetheart, we’re all rooting for you. And I know from personal experience that you will win them over, one way or another. The only thing more effective than a baseball bat is that gorgeous smile. Until then, the new arrivals (who are definitely not angels) have set up shop outside the abandoned church and, using supplies from that mysterious trunk, are feeding the curiously terrified onlookers with what appear to be... hamburgers. And possibly hotdogs? Those who have eaten them say they are, direct quote, ‘ heavenly’ and so far have minimal side effects. Maybe Tulip and Eugene both can grab a snack on their way. That should perk them right up!
Do yourselves a favor and go grab some grub, listeners. It's funny... [Loud sniffing] I could swear I smell the hamburgers myself...
Ah, and I’m afraid there’s some more bad news coming in. In a valiant effort to inspect the Hell portal, our poor, faceless intern has apparently fallen into it. Though witnesses say that it was less of a fall and more of a suction, with wind and, what were perhaps ghostly hands, rising up to pull our young citizen down into those hellish depths. Eugene is gone .
I don’t... I don’t really know what to say. Y’all, I... as callous as this may sound, these are the risks of journalism. Eugene knew exactly what he was getting into when he took this job and I for one cannot regret his fate, whatever it may be. I--
[Audible swallow]
... hey there, Emily. Sorry about this, listeners.
JESSE CUSTER, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE.
Nothing! Emily--Emily don’t look at me like that!--we have a duty to report the news. All that is weird and inexplicable; what makes Annville great! It’s our job .
AND WHAT? YOU WERE TOO LAZY TO GO YOURSELF?
Go--? You know I can’t leave the station!
...
...
...
YOU’RE AN IDIOT.
[Door slams]
... what was that about?
Y’all, I can only assume that Emily has gone to check on our wayward intern. Obviously it would be great if she could retrieve him, but if not, I still don't regret my decision to send him in the first place. Journalism is a perilous business and some people simply don’t have the stomach for it. Well. While we wait for news on Eugene’s fate, let’s have a quick word from our sponsors:
Listeners, do y'all ever find yourselves wishing you could go back in time? Not, like, to fix that messed up junior prom date. You'll never be able to fix that. But I mean, way back in time? Well look no farther than Annville’s own Town of Ratwater Historical Reenactment Society! Play dress up and pretend to be a battle-weary, cynical cowboy, overcome with the struggles of living in a desolate wasteland. If you're lucky, you might even get to shoot Donny Schenck with a good old-fashioned paintball gun! How great is that? Space is limited, so sign up now for the chance of a lifetime. Shoot that bastard Donny, take a pic, and send them into your local radio station to get your name mentioned on-air! I won’t be sharing the pics themselves of course--because this isn’t a visual medium!-- but I will save them and pass them around with glee at our weekly station meetings.
So join the Ratwater Historical Reenactment Society today. You (and I) won’t be disappointed!
This has been a word from our sponsor.
Hm. I’ve just gotten word that the Definitely-Not-Angel’s questionable burgers are… doing strange things to the folks who have eaten them. I hope Tulip is back on one of her vegetarian kicks. Heh.
[Phone rings]
Wow, what’s up with the line today? [Horrible Australian accent] Ello’ ello’ this remains Pancakes Anonymous Hotline. For our M&M option, please press 2 and we’ll forward you to the Mayor’s office--
JESSE.
Emily? [Clears throat] H-hey! Uh... everything okay down there?
HE’S STUCK IN HELL, JESSE. EUGENE. HE’S DAMNED.
Oh... oh that’s... I’m sorry to hear that.
LIKE FUCK YOU ARE. (Emily! You can’t just say that on air--!) SHOVE IT. I’VE HAD IT UP TO HERE WITH YOU THESE LAST FEW WEEKS. THAT BOY HAS DONE NOTHING BUT TRY TO BE A GOOD INTERN--FOLLOWING YOU AROUND LIKE A GODDAMN PUPPY, TAKING NOTES, PRACTICING HIS SUMMONING SKILLS--AND YOU JUST KEPT PUSHING AND PUSHING HIM. I DIDN’T NEED TO SEE HIS FACE TO KNOW HE’S BEEN UPSET, SO DON’T TRY AND TELL ME THIS WAS A ROUTINE REPORT. YOU SENT HIM THERE KNOWING FULL WELL SOMETHING BAD MIGHT HAPPEN.
[Voice suddenly hard] He killed a girl, Emily. He shot Tracy.
YOU GONNA TELL ME YOU’VE NEVER KILLED ANYONE, JESSE CUSTER? I HAVE, YOU HAVE, WE ALL HAVE. THIS IS A TOWN FULL OF KILLERS AND HERE--[voice drops, softer, slightly scared]--OH FUCK. IT’S SO CROWDED HERE. WE ARE NOT ALONE IN OUR BLOODLUST, JESSE. NOT AT ALL.
Wait, Emily, you’re in the portal?
YES. I WENT THROUGH AND... IT’S EVERYTHING YOU’D EXPECT IT TO BE. I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG I’VE BEEN GONE. THE SAME MOMENTS KEEP PLAYING AGAIN AND AGAIN...HORRIBLE MOMENTS... BUT I’M GOING TO FIND EUGENE. TRACY TOO. I’LL FIND THEM AND----JESSE? WILL YOU WATCH MY KIDS? IF SOMETHING HAPPENS?
Nothing is going to happen, Emily. I--Emily?
[Radio static]
Emily ?
[Static]
She’s gone, listeners. I... I do hope she comes back.
I hope they all do.
[Hangs up the phone, only to have it immediately ring again]
Son of a-- hrm. That's Odin again, y'know, the Meat Guy. I've got half a mind not to answer. I do not need this right now. This isn't Coast to Coast, you can't just call in wherever you damn please…
[Sighs and answers the call]
Alright, things are busy here Mr. Quincannon. You've got three minutes. What's this about?
I just done speakin’ with Mayor Tulip. Jesus, Jesse, can't you control that girl?
[Loud laughter interrupts the conversation]
Lord have mercy, oh , I needed a good laugh. Thanks Odin. Let's be honest here: First, you're a dick for even asking me that. Second, my girlfriend isn’t the problem. QM&P has been trying to steal more property from Annville for ages. When are y’all gonna give it up?
Hmph. The question you should worry about is what's gonna happen when I ride up to your sorry radio station building with a wrecker and a couple of backhoes? I’m gonna-- [click]
Whoops! Wow, that's twice in one day. I really need to get these old phone lines looked at. Anyway, my lovely listeners, the moral here is not to get so wrapped up in your work that you start acting like an ass and worshiping creepy, meat-based gods. It's always a tough situation when you have to confront people, but when times like these occur, it's best to face them head-on. Preferably with a lot of extra ammunition. So, while I go check on the radio station weapons stockpile, and maybe text Tulip back… I will leave you all with the Weather.