Down To Folk
Down To Folk

Season 3, Episode 5 · 3 months ago

The Crash


"He" returns to torture Lloyd, and our "guest" hears something.

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About Us What happens when you take three people,  put them inside a Secret Government Agency and give them access to the largest collection of folklore, fairytales, and legends that have (n)ever existed?

Down To Folk is manufactured by M.A.S.S.K. The Ministry of Augmented Something Something, and a K.

**Down to Folk is a work of comedy fiction.  The views and opinions related within should be taken as such, and are not the views and opinions of the creators, writers, or performers.  No children were harmed while creating this podcast, although, a few deaths have occurred, but that 'twas the Wendigo I reckon.**

To get pod fixed. Network transmission in three, two, one. Well, hello, it isn't all my little friends with all their little dreams. Today I'm down to full Queens. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sorry. I love the FAG that you have no arms now and I can do it if you can't stop me. Oh Hey, look, look, here, I brought you a present because I know how much you love the beetles. Somewhere in the black mine and hills out the code to their living young born name a rocket raccoon. I know how much you love the beetles. We're another guy hit young rocky rock I thought. I thought, Oh, you...

...prince loved the Beatles. So one day he walked into town, boots on the room in the local so my buddy rocky roocoons sing with me, chat didn't do his room. Rocky rappy to find Indians. Final, rocky hat COMEA do shoot, why did I again? Can you come let it out his rittle. It seems there was an old lady who swallowed a fly.

I don't know why she swallowed a fly. Perhaps she'll die. I know an old lady who swallowed a spider that wiggled and wiggled inside her. She swallowed the spider to catch the fly. I don't know why she swallowed the fly. Perhaps she'll die. I know an old lady who swallowed a shoe. I ask you, who would swallow a shoe? She swallowed the shoe to kick the spider that wiggled and wiggled inside her. She swallowed the spider to catch the fly. I don't know why she swallowed a fly. Perhaps she'll die. I know an old lady who swallowed some soap. I'm losing hope that she's swallowing soap. She swallowed the soap because she thought it was mint. She swallowed the shoe to kick a probably already digested spider. She swallowed the spider because it looked like a chocolate chip. She swallowed the fly. Well, I don't know why she swallowed the fly. Perhaps that's why...

...she's going into emergency surgery. You see, the Old Lady suffered from Pike, which is a very serious condition in which person ingests inedible things like couch foam or household cleaners, often out of the mistaken notion it is something else. It can literally kill you. Yeah, it's a real downer. Before in the time of darkness. The stories hung on the wind. The story is hibernated in the deep, rich soil. Cavernous abysses in the oceans hid the tails. There was no light. The story is laid dormant until the fire came, first from the ground, in molten lava, creating new lands, tearing a part familiar ground, pushing forward, polling under. The fire...

...scarred the land and blocked out the light. Then the wind and the rain began to fall and with it a new story began. In Green, lush jungles and planes, those who wandered began to see the changes, began to put thoughts together and form a language, language of sorts to communicate what they had seen, what they had heard, what they had experienced. And when they learned to harness the fire from the sky and earth, they began to wander less. They began to make homesteads and migrate to places where food was plenty and shelter for the fire could be made. Once upon a time a fire was made and they stood in its warmth and told the stories that hung in the air, the stories that birthed themselves from the Earth, the stories...

...that bubbled and breached the waves and those stories opened the world, changed the course of history. Around a fire, a light, thoughts, ideas, imaginations grew from mouth to ear, to ear to mind, to mind, to action. The stories began to take on a new life of their own. Those who watched silent and UNOBTRUSIVE, to those who wandered marveled as these stories grew. Soon those who watched had names, those who wandered shared stories that those who watched had only thought. The world was a place of Gods and monsters and man. Then fear grew within those who wandered. The mysteries were unexplained and those who thought differently, believed differently, began to war against...

...each other. The gods and the monsters retreated and hid themselves where those who wandered dared not go. And in their absence, those who wandered became those who stayed. And around the fire the stories grew to be myths, legends, folklore and truths. The two tribes would only meet in the imagination of each other. But then he came, the mischievous son of both God and man, the Wendigo, shifting his shape, tearing the fabric of veil that hid gods from man and man from monsters. The only way to make peace with the WINDIGO was to make a deal with him. For every story told about the world beyond, the Gods would be appeased and man would can tinue.

Some of the Gods and monsters wanted the freedom to be and not exist only in fables. They began to wander through the worlds, breaking the promise of the wind to go, the wind to go. Vow to find balance and in doing so, created a place where Gods and monsters and men could live in peace by the fire, where everything was real, everything was true, and as long as the fire burned, the stories would be told and the balance would be made. Gods and monsters and men could freely commune with each other. At the end of the story stopped for a reason or another. The fire grew dim the world grew dark. The war had begun once more. You've been listening to a podcast of the pod fix network. Discover...

...more audible gems like this at pod fix network DOT com. Make sure to catch up to the minute network shenanigans by following at pod fix on twitter, official underscore pod fix on Instagram, at pod fix network on Facebook, and make sure to subscribe to pod fix presents wherever you choose to find podcasts. The pod fix network artists, owned and loved. Okay, okay, I'm back and I'm losing my cool a bit. I don't know how long I've been in this thing, but there's no way it's been fucking under an hour. Deep Breath, deep breathing, ship. What the fuck was that? Something just crash outside? Holy Ship. Holy Shit. Oh Shit. Okay,...

I'm going to try to force this door open again. How fuck, what the fuck? Goddamn, Oh fuck, I'm breathingly shoulder. Fuck, fuck, what the fuck. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? Okay, okay, okay, breathe, breathe, stay calm. I checked the edges of the door for potential cracks. Nothing. It's not going to buzz. That seems clear. I don't know what that crashing was, but maybe it was just the towel rack or something. Maybe I hallucinated it. I just need to wait. Someone will come eventually. Jesus, Fuck Jesus, I wish I just used my fucking phone... record this instead of this dumb little recorder. What if no one comes? I starved to death. Dehydration. Fuck, do you think this recorder could elect or cut me enough to kill me if suicide becomes my only option? God, I just want to see Kelly and Otis, Beautiful Kelly and Otis. So I have to get out of here. I've got to get out of here and get back to them. Ship, ship, ship, I was saying. Singing calms me down. Oh what do I sing? WHAT DO I sing? Way Down, then the old one his, oh no, then the old money, hells, old code, and they lift your record one days. Well know, if we had to know, Shit,...

...that was the bad choice of songs. Oh, I sing that to my beautiful baby boy. Have to get him asleep. Ah, BAH BA, shit, shit, turning this thing fuck turning this thing off.

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