SYSK’s 2018 Super Spooktacular

you this yet. Are spook tacular? Yes, it's right. And uh for those of you who have just found the podcast recently and this is your first time, every Christmas and Halloween we present an ad free episode for your enjoyment. This has nothing to do with explaining anything. It's just some spooky stories that we like to read and then Jerry adds a little sound design. But apparently this year it's up to us. That's right, So do you want

to do it? Let's do it? Okay, So I say that we start with my pick, the Algerin in Blackwood um story ancient lights, great dim the lights? Everybody get whatever you do to get into the spooky mood. Um. I don't know how you play it in your houses, but dim the lights you do. Maybe get a cat let it stare at you for a little while. It's pretty creepy. That's the sweetest thing ever, a cat staring at you. Sure. Maybe take the your witch's broom out of the closet. Oh yeah, then that'll set a mood. Um.

Put up your cobwebs. Don't clean those out and put them up. Yeah, what are you doing cleaning them out? You need spiders to keep pesky bugs away, that's right, and then you keep lizards to eat the spiders. That's right. See, you did learn something today. I did. Okay, you're ready, allow me to start, please, Jerry, if you please, thank you, Jerry. Jerry's already asleep. This is ancient lights by Elgin and Blackwood.

From South Water where he left the train. The road led due west that he knew for the rest he trusted to luck, being one of those born walkers who dislikes asking the way. He had that instinct, and as a rule it served him well. A mile or so due west along the Sandy Road till you come to a style on the right, then across the fields, you'll see the red house straight before you. He glanced at the postcard's instructions once again, and once again he tried

to decipher the scratched out sentence, without success. It had been so elaborately inked over that no word was legible. Inked Out sentences in a letter were always enticing. He wondered what it was that had to be so very carefully obliterated. The afternoon was boisterous, with a tearing, shouting wind that blew from the sea across the Sussex wheeld have no idea what a wield This massive clouds with round had piled up edges cannoned across gaping spaces of

blue sky far away. The line of downs swept the horizon like an arriving wave. Chuck, dumberry ring which I looked up. It's an old hill fort from years ago and a Celtic temple. Okay, bear that in mind. So this old hill fort, he's saying, rode the crest of the horizon like a wave. Okay, a scudding ship holed down before the wind. He took his hat off and walked rapidly, breathing great drafts of air with delight and exhilaration. This guy really liked walking. Man, he's the opposite of me.

You would this would be chucking a segway this whole time right the road was deserted, no horseman, bicycles or motors, not even a tradesman's cart, no single walker. But anyhow, he would never have asked the way, keeping a sharp eye for the style. And by the way, chuck, his style is like a little thing that humans can use to get over, like a cattle fence, but like cattle can't get through, so like maybe steps on either side of a fence style. Okay, m hmm, stupid cows. I

know I can't walk up steps. Keeping a sharp eye for the style, he pounded along while the wind tossed the cloak against his face and made waves across the blue puddles and the yellow road. The trees showed their under leaves of white, the bracken and the high new grass bent all one way. Great life was in the day, high spirits and dancing everywhere, And for a Croydon surveyor's clerk just out of an office, this was like a

holiday at the sea. It was a day for high adventure, and his heart rose up to meet the mood of nature. His umbrella with the silver ring ought to have been a sword, and his brown shoes should have been top boots with spurs on the heels. Where hid the enchanted castle in the princess with the hair of sunny gold. His horse, the Style, suddenly came into view and nipped adventure in the bud. Everyday clothes took him prisoner again.

He was a surveyor's clerk, middle aged, earning three pounds a week, coming from Croydon to see about a client's proposed alterations in a wood, something to ensure a better view from the dining room window. Across the fields, perhaps a mile away. He saw the red house gleaming in the sunshine, and resting on the Style a moment to get his breath, he noticed the copes of oak and horn beam on the right. Aha, he told himself, so that must be the wood he wants to cut down

to improve the view. I'll have a look at it. There were boards up, of course, but there was an inviting little path as well. I'm not a trespasser, he said, It's part of my business. This is he scrambled awkwardly over the gate and entered the copes. A little round would bring him to the field again. My turn, take it away, chuckers. All right, here we go. Should we catch people up? What's this guy doing? He's walking a lot, he's walking. He's walking, and he's going to be a

client who wants to cut down some woods. And he thinks he's just now found the woods. All but the moment he passed among the trees, the wind ceased shouting, and a stillness dropped upon the world. So dense was the growth that the sunshine only came through and isolated patches. The air was close. He mopped his forehead, but his green felt hat on, but a low branch knocked it off again at once, and as he stooped, an elastic

twig swung back and stung his face. There were flowers along, sorry, there were flowers along both edges of the little path, glades open on either side, Ferns curved about in damper corners, and the smell of earth and foliage was rich and sweet. It was cooler here. What an enchanting little wood, he thought, turning down a small green glade where the sunshine flickered like silver wings. How it danced and fluttered and moved about. He put a dark blue flower in his button hole.

M whatever floats your boat foal again? His hat caught by an oak branch as he rose, was knocked from his head, falling across his eyes. This guy's a mess, and this time he did not put it on again. Swinging his umbrella, he walked on with uncovered head, whistling rather loudly as he went. But the thickness of the trees hardly encouraged whistling, and something of his gaiety and high spirit seemed to leave him. He suddenly found himself

treading circumspectly and with caution. The stillness in the wood was so peculiar. There was a rustle among the ferns and leaves, and something shot across the path ten yards ahead. Stopped abruptly. An instant with head cocked sideways to stare, then dived again beneath the underbrush with the speed of a shadow. He started like a frightened child, laughing the next second that a mere pheasant could have made him jump.

In the distance, he heard wheels upon the road and wondered why the sound was pleasant good Old Butcher's Cot, he said to himself, his accent changed. I guess I like it. I'm not. I'm not sure where he's from. Good Old Butcher's Cot, he said to himself. Then realized that he was going in the wrong direction and had somehow got turned round, for the road should be behind him, not in front, and he hurriedly took another narrow glade that lost itself in greenness to the right. That's my direction,

of course, he said. How he's show connor. I think so all right. The trees has mixed me up a bit, it seems. Then found himself abruptly by the gate he had first climbed over. He had merely made a circle. Surprise became almost discomfiture. Then it's a new one for me. And a man dressed like a gamekeeper in brownie green leaned against the gate, hitting his legs with a switch.

I'm making for Mr Lumley's farm, explained the walker. This is his wood, I believe, then stopped dead because it was no man at all, but merely an effect of light and shade and foliage. He stepped back to reconstruct the singular illusion, but the wind shook the branches roughly here on the edge of the wood. The foliage refused to reconstruct the figure, leaves all rustled strangely. Just then the sun went behind a cloud, making the whole would

look otherwise. Yet how the mind could be thus doubly deceived was indeed remarkable, for it almost seemed to him the man had sward spoken, or was this the shuffling noise the branches made, and had pointed with this switch to the notice board upon the nearest tree. The words rang on in his head, but of course he had imagined them. No, it's not his wood, it's ours. That's good stuff. And some village wit moreover had changed the lettering on the weather beaten board, for it read quite plainly,

trespassers will be persecuted. Teenagers no skateboarding either. And while the astonished clerk read the words and chuckled, he said to himself, thinking what a tale he'd have to tell his wife and children later. The blooming wood has tried to chuck me out. But I'll go in again. Why it's only a matter of a square acre at most. I'm bound to reach the fields on the other side if I keep straight on here This guy's really all over the place of ny. I feel like he's kind

of settled into a real weird accent. But I like it. He remembered his position in the office. He had a certain dignity to maintain. So he's he's freaking out a little bit, like the woods are like playing tricks on him. It seems like the lst is kicking in for sure. He's like, I shouldn't have plucked that weird mushroom from that cow poop, okay, m The cloud passed from below the sun and light splashed suddenly in all manner of

unlikely places. The man went straight on. He felt a touch of puzzling confusion somewhere this way the copes had of shifting from sunshine into shadow doubtless troubled site a little. To his relief, at last a new glade open through the trees and just closed the fields with the glimpse of the red house in the distance at the far end.

But a little wicked gate that stood across the path had to first be climbed, and as he scrambled heavily over it for it would not open, he got the astonishing feeling that it slid off sideways beneath his weight toward the wood like the moving staircases at Herod's in Earl's Court, and I think he's talking about escalators. It began to glide off with him. It was quite horrible, and he made a violent effort to get down before

it carried him into the trees. But his feet became entangled with the bars and umbrella, so that he fell heavily upon the farther side. Arms spread across the grass, and nettles boots clutched between the first and second bars. Suddenly, Benny Hill came around the corner. Maybe Jerry will add yakety sacks to that part. Oh, that'd be great. He lay there a moment like a man crucified upside down, and while he struggled to get disentangled, feet, bars and

umbrella formed a regular net. He saw the little man in Brownie Green go past him with extreme rapidity through the wood. The man was laughing. He passed across the glades some fifty yards away, and he was not alone this time. A companion like himself went with him. The clerk, now upon his feet again, watched them disappear into the gloom of green beyond. You want to take this quote that tramps not gamekeepers. He said to himself, half mortified,

half angry, apparently half deranged. But his heart was thumping dreadfully, and he dared not utter all his thought. He examined the wicket gate, convinced it was a trick gate somehow, then went hurriedly on again, disturbed beyond belief to see that the glade no longer opened into the fields, but curved away to the right. What in the world had happened to him? His sight was so utterly at fault again.

The sun flamed out abruptly and lit the floor of woods with pools of silver, And at the same moment a violent gust of wind passed, shouting overhead. Drops fell clattering everywhere upon, the leaves making a sharp pattering as of many footsteps. The whole coat shuddered and went moving chuck brain by. George thought the clerk, and, feeling for his umbrella, discovered he had lost it. He turned back to the gate and found it lying on the farther side.

To his amazement, he saw the fields at the far end of the glade. The red house too, shine in the sunset. He laughed, then, for of course and his struggles with the gate, he had somehow got turned around, had fallen back instead of forwards. Climbing over this time quite easily, he retraced his steps. The silver band he saw had been torn off of the umbrella, no doubt, his foot, a nail or something had caught in it and ripped it off. The clerk began to run. He

felt extraordinarily dismayed. But while he ran, the entire wood ran with him round him, to and fro, trees shifting like living things, leaves folding and unfolding, trunks darting backwards and forwards, and branches disclosing enormous empty spaces and then closing up again before he could look into them. There were footsteps everywhere, and laughing, crying voices, and crowds of figures gathering just behind his back, till the glade he

knew was thick with moving life. The wind in his ears, of course, produced the voices in the laughter, while the sun and clouds plunging the copes alternately in shadow and bright dazzling light, created the figures. But he did not like it. And when as fast as ever his sturdy legs could take it, he was frightened. Now this was no story for his wife and children. He ran like the wind, but his feet made no sound upon the soft,

mossy turf. Oh boy, it's getting real. It's getting surreal. Then, to his horror, he saw that the glade grew narrow, nettles and weeds stood thick across it. It dwindled down into a tiny path, and twenty yards ahead it stopped finally and melted off among the trees. What the trick gate had failed to achieve, this twisting glade accomplished easily carried him in bodily among the dense and crowding tree You you wanna take his home? It s get freaky, Chuck.

There was only one thing to do. Turned sharply and dash back again, run headlong into the life that followed at his back, followed so closely too, that now it almost touched him, pushing him in. And with reckless courage, that was what he did. It seemed a fearful thing to do. He turned with a sort of violent spring, head down and shoulders forward, hands stretched before his face. He made the plunge like a hunted creature. He charged full tilt the other way, meeting the wind, and now

in his face. Good Lord, the glade behind him and closed up as well. There was no longer any path at all, Turning round and round like an animal at bay. He searched for an opening, a way of escape, searched frantically, breathlessly, terrified now in his bones. But foll leyad surrounded him. Branches blocked the way. The tree stood close and still, unshaken by a breath of wind, and the sun dipped that moment behind a great black cloud. The entire wood

turned dark and silent, had watched him. Is not good when the woods are watching you. That's bad news. It's worse than a cat. That's like that Jodie Foster movie from the seventies, The Watcher in the Woods. Was that Jodie Foster? Yeah, I was so scary. I remember that one, and Betty Davis I think too. That's right, we should have just played that instead of doing this. I feel like we just broke all the tension we'd built over the last ten minutes. Okay, here we go, Everyone al right,

the woods are watching. Perhaps it was this final touch of sudden blackness that made him act so foolishly, as though he had really lost his head at any rate. Without pausing to think, he dashed headlong in among the trees. Again, there was a sensation of being stifling lye surrounded and entangled, and that he must break out at all costs, out in a way into the open of the blessed fields

and air. He did this ill considered thing, and apparently charged straight into an oak that deliberately moved into his path to stop him. He saw it shift across a good full yard, and being a measuring man accustomed to theodolite and chain, he ought to know, do you know what that is? No? Do you the chain? I think I mean he's a surveyor, says gut has something to do with that. But who knows what the light is?

And I think it's a measuring compound. Sure he fell, saw stars and felt a thousand tiny fingers tugging and pulling in his hands and neck and ankles. The stinging nettles, no doubt, were responsible for this, he thought of it later. At the moment it felt diabolically calculated. But another remarkable illusion was not so easily explained. For all, in a moment, it seemed the entire wood went sliding past him with a thick, deep rustling of leaves and laughter, myriad footsteps

and tiny little active energetic shapes. Two men in brownie green gave him a mighty hoist, and he opened his eyes to find himself lying in the meadow beside the style where first his incredible adventure had begun. The wood stood in its usual place and stared down upon him in the sunlight. There was the red house in the distance as before above him grinned the weather beaten noticeable word trespassers will be prosecuted, disheveled in mind and body,

and a good deal shaken in his official soul. The clerk walked slowly across the fields, but on the way he glanced once more at the postcard of instructions and saw with dull amazement that the inked out sentence was quite legible after all. Beneath the scratches made across it, there is a shortcut through the wood. The would I want to cut down if you care to take it? Only care was so badly written it looked more like another word. The sea was uncommonly like d. That's the

copes that spoils my view of the downs. You see, His client explained, to him, later, pointing across the fields and referring to the ordinance map beside him. I want to cut down in a path made so and so it's precise. His finger indicated direction on the map. The fairy Wood, it's still called, and it's far older than this house. Come now, if you're ready, Mr Thomas, we might go out and have a look at it. Oh boy. So basically the shot, Oh yeah, there you got the end.

So basically the upshot of this one, Chuck, is that this guy is very lucky that the possessed would spit him out and didn't keep him in there forever like that island did it too, Amelia Earhart, that's right? And Rowse Beers man bringing the civil engineering horror that was Algernon Blackwood. Would I say, Ambrose Beers, that's a common mistake, it really. I like I like the I like Algernon Blackwood. Yeah, he's great. He did the Empty House, which we read

once a few years back. So there you go. How scared is everybody? Raise your hand if you're scared me. That's not bad, not bad. Two out of three people isn't bad. All right, So we're gonna move on to Ed Garland Poe and uh, because it's in the public don't main, dude, there's there. It's true, it is true, it's in the public domain. I'm gonna get started in my searching earlier next year. Yeah, or we could just start saving up um and just like buy the rights

to read one. Yeah, I mean there are there are stories. It's about getting in touch with the authors that are still living. Sure, it's like I found a good Joyce Carol oateswin and all she all she writes is the best horror ever. For my money, I would say that she's probably my favorite author in general, but I would say she's probably the greatest horror writer of all time. Too. Well, I'm gonna get in touch with her. We're gonna buddy up over the next year. Oh good, we'll loot me

into that. Yeah, for sure, we're gonna bring the oats next year. Okay, Yeah. I tweeted to her wants to ask her, and she just ignored it. Really Yeah that was before your big shot. No, this is like last year, which I guess that that's the hole's true. So yes, you're right. All right. Here we go with a story by Edgar Allen Poe. Uh, noted drunk and drug addict died in the street. Really, Oh yeah, Baltimore, right in front of Powers Station Live. Yeah, is there a marker? Yes,

it's actually not right in front of it. It's like a street or so over. And I don't remember if it's this house or if it is the place where he died. I think it is the spot where he died. It's like a street or two over in Baltimore. Yeah, it's worth visiting for sure. All right. So this is a post short story called hop Frog silly name, ghoulish content. Yes you ready? Do you want to start? You go ahead? No? I finished that one. Don't you start this one? Okay? Uh, okay,

I don't have my imparstell either. We'll just wing it. Okay, just uh just go coco cocoa or wink or something. I don't know. All right, you're ready. H I never knew anyone so keenly alive to a joke as the King was. He seemed to live only for joking. To tell a good story of the joke kind, and to tell it well, was the surest road to his favor. Thus it happened that his seven ministers were all noted

for their accomplishments as jokers. They all took after the King too, in being large, corpulent, oily men, as well as inimitable jokers. Whether people grow fat by joking, or whether there is something in fat itself which p disposes to joke, I've never been quite able to determine, But certainly it is that a lean joker is a rara avis in terrorists, said the heroin addict about the refinements, or, as he called them, the ghost of wit. The King

troubled himself very little. He had an especial admiration for breadth in a jest, and would often put up with length for the sake of it. Over niceties wearied him. He would have preferred, Man, this is gonna make zero sense to anybody, but here we go. He would have preferred Rabelais Gargantua to the Zadig of Voltaire, and upon the whole, practical jokes suited his taste far better than verbal ones. Getting a bit of a picture of this king, he's a pull finger guy. Yeah, oh man, that's a

good one. At the date of my narrative, professing jesters had not altogether gone out of fashion at court several of the great continental powers still retain their fools, who were motley with caps and bells, and who were expected to be always ready with sharp witticisms at a moment's notice. In consideration of the crumbs that fell from the royal table. Our king, as a matter of course, retained his fool.

The fact is he required something in the way of folly, if only to counterbalance the heavy wisdom of the seven wise men, who were as ministers. Not to mention himself his fool or professional jester. Was not only a fool, however, his value was trebled in the eyes of the king by the fact of his also being a dwarf and a cripple. And it's about here they wanted to just apologize on behalf of Beggar Allan Poe for some of the descriptive terms that he uses throughout the short story.

But please bear with him and us. Yes, what he meant to say was he was also a little person who was handy, capable. That's right, nice nicely put again. Sorry, Dwarfs were as common at court in those days as fools, and many monarchs would have found it difficult to get through their days. Days are rather long at court than elsewhere, without both the jester to laugh with and a dwarf

to laugh at. But as I have already observed, your jesters, in cases out of a hundred, are fat, round and unwieldy, so that it was no small source of self congratulation with our King that in hop Frog this was the fool's name. He possessed a triplicate treasure in one person. All right, me, let's do it, all right. I believe the name hop Frog was not that given to the doroth by his sponsors of baptism. That's probably a good guess.

I think that's a weird way to put parents. But it was conferred upon him by general consent of the several ministers on account of his inability to walk as other men do. In fact, hop Frog could only get along by a sort of interjectional gait, something between a leap and a wriggle, a movement that afforded man that

word illimitable. I think he nailed it illimitable. Amusement, and of course consolation to the king, for notwithstanding the protuberance of his stomach and a constitutional swelling of the head, the King, by his whole court was accounted a capital figure, and galant Poe is super judge. Oh yeah, he had so great looking he didn't Oh no, that's true. No

he wasn't, but he wasn't oily, I don't think. Okay, But although hop Frog, through the distortion of his legs, could move only with great pain and difficulty along a road or floor, the prodigious muscular power which nature seemed to have bestowed upon his arms by way of compensation for deficiency in the lower limbs, enabled him to perform many feats of wonderful dexterity where trees or ropes were

in question, or anything else to climb. At such exercises, he certainly much more resembled a squirrel or a small monkey than a frog. Alright, so this this guy uh is h His legs don't work as well, but he's got super strong upper body. Is that right? That's what I'm getting, And he's a great climber as a result. That's right. Here we go. I am not able to say with precision from what country hop Frog originally came.

It was from some barbarous region. However, that no person ever heard of a vast distance from the court of our king, hop Frog and a young girl very little less dwarfish than himself, although of exquisite proportions and a marvelous dancer, had been forcibly carried off from their respective homes in adjoining provinces and sent as presents to the King by one of his ever victorious generals. Boy, this is terrible. It's pretty dark. But I mean again, we're

talking Poe here. Yeah, that's right, and just wait, just wait for it, everyone, just just wait. Under these circumstances, it is not to be wondered at that a close intimacy arose between the two little captives. Indeed, they soon became sworn friends. Hop Frog, who, although he made a great deal of sport, was by no means popular, had it not in his power to render Trippetta many services. Is that is that the lady Trippetta? Yeah, that's that's the lady Okay. But she, on account of her grace

and exquisite beauty, although a dwarf, don't forget, just completely unnecessary. Oh, her grace and exquisite was universally admired and petted. So she possessed much influence and never failed to use it whenever she could for the benefit of hop Frog. So she's still a good friend. I like that. Oh yeah, And and he to her even though he didn't really have any power, that's right, which is surprising because a lot of jesters were very powerful in the court. Yeah,

that's true. Didn't we do one on jesters? I think? So? Okay, all right, on some grand state occasion, I forget what the king determined to have a masquerade, And whenever a masquerade or anything of that kind occurred at our court, then the talents both of hop Frog and Trippetta were sure to be called into play. Hot Frog, in a special was so inventive in the way of getting up pageants, suggesting novel characters and ray costumes for masked balls that

nothing could be done, it seems, without his assistance. So hot Bro can throw a great party, he can't, and apparently so cantrapet it too. All right, let me, I'll do this one more. Ohh, I see. The night appointed for the fete had arrived, A gorgeous hall had been fitted up, under Trepetta's eye with every kind of device which could possibly give eclat to a masquerade. The whole court was in a fever of expectation, for costumes and characters. Might well be supposed that everybody had come to a

decision on such points. Many had made up their minds as to what roles they should assume a week or even a month in advance. And in fact there was not a particle of indecision anywhere except in the case of the King and his seven ministers. Why they hesitated I could never tell, unless they did it by way of a joke. More probably, they found it difficult, on account of being so fat to make up their minds at all events. Time flew and as a last resort

they sent for Trippetta and hop Frog. Oh boy, all right, so the deal is they're throwing this big ball. Everyone's dressed up, everyone put a lot into it, except for the King's seven ministers and his seven ministers, right right. So they sent for Trippetta and hop Frog to say, what should we do? Guys? We need some help here, So can I start again? Okay? Mm hmmm mm hmm. When the two little friends obeyed the summons of the King, they found him sitting at his wine with the seven

members of his cabinet council. But the monarch appeared to be in very ill humor. He knew that hop Frog was not fond of wine, for it excited the poor cripple almost to madness, and madness is no comfortable feeling. But the King loved his practical jokes and took pleasure in forcing hop Frog to drink. And as the King called it to be merry and I just made air quotes. Everybody, come here, hop Frog, said he as the jester and

his friend entered the room. Swallow this bumper to the health of your abs and friends here hop Frog's side, and then let us have the benefit of your invention. We want characters, characters, man something novel out of the way. We are wearied with this everlasting sameness. Come drink the wine will brighten your wits. How's that for a king?

I mean, I'm no Chuck Bryant. That's okay. Hop Frog endeavored, as usual to get up a jest in reply to these advances from the king, but the effort was too much. It happened to be the poor dwarf's birthday, and the command to drink to his absent friends forced tears to his eyes. Many large bitter drops fell into the goblet as he took it humbly from the hand of the tyrant. Ha ha ha, roared the ladder, as the dwarf reluctantly

drained the beaker. See what a glass of good wine can do while your eyes are shining already, poor fellow, his large eyes gleamed rather than shown, for the effective wine on his excitable brain was not more powerful than instantaneous. He placed the goblet nervously on the table and looked around upon the company with a half insane stare. They all seemed highly amused at the success of the King's joke. You want me keep going, keep going? And now to business,

said the prime Minister of very fat man. Yes, said the King, Come lend us your assistants characters, My fine fellow, we stand in need of characters, all of us. Ha ha ha. And as this was seriously meant for a joke, his laugh was coursed by the seven nice hot frog also laughed, although feebly and somewhat vacantly. I think he did that, calm calm, said the king impatiently. Are you

nothing to suggest? I am endeavoring to think of something novel, replied the dwarf abstractedly, for he was quite bewildered by the wine. I know how I know what that's about. Yeah, alright, go King Endeavoring, cried the tyrant fiercely, What do you mean by that? I perceive your sulky and one more wine? Here, drink this, And he poured out another gobletful and offered it to the cripple, who merely gazed at it, gasping for breath. Drink, I say, shouted the monster. Or by

the fiends, The dwarf hesitated. The king grew purple with rage. The courtier smirked. Trippetta, pale as a corpse, advanced to the monarch seat, and, falling on her knees before him, implored and to spare her friend. The tyrant regarded her for some moments, and evident wonder at her audacity. He seemed quite at a loss what to do or say,

how most becomingly to express his indignation. At last, without uttering a syllable, he pushed her violently from him, and through the contents of the rimming goblet in her face. The poor girl got up best she could, and, not even daring to sigh, resumed her position at the foot of the table. Man, I know it's hard out there for a court minster. There was a dead silence for about a half minute, during which the falling of a

leaf or of a feather might have been heard. It was interrupted by a low, but harsh and protracted, grating sound, which seemed to come out at once from every corner of the room. What what what are you making that noise? For the king? Michael Scott doing his weird voice. I just realized that's great, demanded the King, turning furiously to the dwarf. The latter seemed to have recovered in great measure from his intoxication. That was quick and looking fixedly

but quietly into the tyrant's face, merely ejaculated. I I how could it have been me? The sound appeared to come from without, observed one of the courtiers. I fancy it was the parrot at the window, whetting his bill upon his cage wires. True, replied the monarch, as if much relieved by the suggestion. But on the honor of a night, I could have sworn that it was the gritting of this vagabond's cheek. Here upon the dwarf laughed

the king. The king was too confirmed a joker to object to anyone's laughing, and displayed a set of large, powerful, and very repulsive teeth. Moreover, he avowed his perfect willingness to swallow as much wine as desired. The monarch was pacified, and having drained another bumper with no very perceptible ill effect, hop Frog entered at once, and with spirit, and too the plans for the masquerade. Take it away. Okay, well this is a Hopfrog quote. Okay, you've been nailing it.

I cannot tell what the association of idea. More observed, he very tranquil, and as if he had never tasted wine in his life. But just after your majesty had struck the girl and thrown the wine in her face, just after your majesty had done this, and while the parrot was making that odd noise out the window, there came into my mind a capital diversion, one of my own country frolics, often enacted among us at our masquerades.

But here it will be new altogether. Unfortunately, however, it requires a company of eight persons and war or here we are, cried the king, laughing at his acute discovery of the coincidence. Eight to a fraction, I and my seven ministers, come, what is the diversion? We call it the eight chained orangutangs, and it really is excellent sport of well inactive work. We will enact it, remarked the King,

drawing himself up and lowering his eyelids. The beauty of the game lies in the fright it occasions among the women, capital roared in chorus. The monarch in his ministry, I will equip you as a rangutangs, proceeded the dwarf. Leave all that to me. The resemblance shall be so striking that the company of masquerados will take you for real beasts, and of course they will be as much terrified as astonished. Boor Oh, this is exquisite, exclaimed the King hop Frog.

I will make a man of you. I don't know what's going on with the king. This is just how excited he is. He's speaking through me right now. It's very interesting to see everyone. Josh's eyes roll back in his head every time he does it. The change for the purpose of increasing the confusion by their jangling. You are supposed to have escaped on mass from your keepers, boys,

really setting us up. Your majesty cannot conceive the effect produced at a masquerade by eight chang to rangutangs imagine to be real ones by most of the company, and rushing in with savage cries among the crowd of delicately and gorgeously habited men and women. The contrast is inimitable, it must be said. The King and the council arose hurriedly, as it was growing late, to put in execution the

scheme of hop frog alright, my turn, your turn. His mode of equipping the party as orangutanks was very simple, but effective enough for his purposes. The animals in question had, at the epoch of my story very rarely been seen in any part of the civilized world, and as the imitations made by the drawer force sufficiently beast like and more than sufficiently hideous, their truthfulness to nature was thus

thought to be secured. The King and his ministers were first encased in tight fitting stocking net, shirts and drawers like um uh, what are those called onesies? They were then saturated with tar. This is where it gets kind

of painful. Really. At this age of the process, someone of the party suggested feathers, but the suggestion was at once overruled by the dwarf, who soon convinced the eight by ocular demonstration that the hair of such a brood as the orangutank was much more efficiently represented by flax. A thick coating of the ladder was accordingly plastered upon the coating of tar. A long chain was now procured.

First it was passed about the waist of the king, and tied then about another of the party, and also tied then about all successively in the same manner. When this chaining arrangement was complete, and the parties stood as far apart from each other as possible, they formed a circle.

And to make all things appear natural, hot Frog passed the residue of the chains in two diameters at right angles across the circle, after the fashion adopted at the present day by those who captured chimpanzees or other large apes in borneo. The story just keeps on given, doesn't it. He got weirdly specific there, like Captain that one time

should I keep going. The grand saloon in which the masquerade was to take place was a circular room, very lofty and receiving the light of the sun only through a single window at top at night, the season for

which the apartment was especially designed. It was illuminated principally by a large chandelier, depending by a chain from the center of the skylight, and lowered or elevated by means of a counterbalance as usual, but in order not to look unsightly, this ladder passed outside the cupola and over

the roof. So he got that okay. The arrangement of the room had been left to Treppeta's superintendence, but in some particulars it seems she had been guided by the calmer judgment of her friend the dwarf, at his suggestion.

It was that on this occasion the chandelier was removed it's wax and drippings, which, in weather so warm it was quite impossible to prevent, would have been seriously detrimental to the rich dresses of the guests, who, on account of the crowded state of the saloon, could not all be expected to keep from out at center, that is

to say, from under the chandelier. Additional scouces were set in various parts of the hall out of the war, and a flambeaux emitting a sweet odor was placed in the right hand of each of the caryatids carryat caryatids Carrie car Caryatids. What do you think it is? Uh, Carriot, Caryatides, Caryatids. Okay, there you go. That stood against the wall, some fifty

or sixty altogether. So they got rid of this giant chandelier that hung from a chain in the center of the place where the masquerade ball was going to be held. And now there's basically just a hole in the center of the roof where the chain that held up the this chandelier would have been. Writing tells me the King and his guys are in for a surprise. Yeah, think you might be right? All right, I can take it

away here, please do. The eight orangutangs, taking hop Frog's advice, waited patiently until midnight, when the room was thoroughly filled with masqueraders, before making their appearance. No sooner had the clock sea striking, however, than they rushed, or rather rolled in all together, for the impediments of their chains caused most of the party to fall and all to stumble as they entered. The excitement among the masqueraders was prodigious

and filled the heart of the king with glee. As had been anticipated, there were not a few of the guests who supposed the ferocious looking creatures to be beast of some kind in reality, if not precisely orangutangs. Many of the women swooned with a fright, and had not the king taken the precaution to exclude all weapons from the saloon, his party might soon have expiated their frolic in their blood. Wow, so they looked so much like orangutang's he feared he would have been killed. People are

expiating their blood as it was. A general rush was made for the doors, but the king had ordered them to be locked immediately upon his entrance, and at the dwarf suggestion, the keys had been deposited with him while the tumult was at its height, and each masquerader attentive only to his own safety, for in fact it was much real danger from the pressure of the excited crowd.

The chain by which the chandelier ordinarily hung, and which had been drawn up on its removal, might have been seen very gradually to descend until his hooked extremity came within three feet of the floor. So there's a hubbub going on, and no one notices this chain's being lowered from the ceiling, right, Yeah, and it sounds like not a lot of chivalry either, just a lot of pushing and shoving, and every person for themselves. Okay, here we go.

Soon after this, the king and his seven friends, having reeled about the hall in all directions, found themselves at length in its center, and of course, in immediate contact with the chain. While they were thus situated, the door, who had followed noiselessly at their heels, inciting them to keep up the commotion, took hold of their own chain at the intersection of the two portions which crossed the

circle diametrically and at right angles. Here, with a rapidity of thought, he inserted the hook from which the chandelier had been wont to depend, and in an instant, by some unseen agency, the chandelier chain was drawn so far upward as to take the hook out of reach, and as an inevitable consequence, to drag the orangutangs together in

close connection and face to face. The masqueraders, by this time had recovered in some measure from their alarm, and beginning to regard the whole matter as a well contrived pleasantry, set up a loud shout of laughter. Predicament of the apes lead them to me. Now, screamed hop Frog, his shrill voice making itself easily heard through all the din lead them to me. I fancy I know them. If I can only get a good look at them, I can soon tell who they are. Broad take us home.

Oh jeez, I was not expecting us here. Scrambling over the heads of the crowd, he managed to get to the wall when seizing a flambeaux. I think a torch from from one of the let's just say torchy sconce

on the wall. Okay, he returned, and as he went to the center of the room, leaping with the agility of a monkey, upon the king's head, and thence clambered a few feet up the chain, because remember he's got that upper body strength, holding down the torch to examine the group of orangutangs and still screaming, I shall soon find out who they are, brock And now, while the whole assembly, the apes included, were convulsed with laughter, the

jester suddenly uttered a shrill whistle when the chain flew violently up for about thirty heat, dragging with it the dismayed and struggling orangutanks and leaving them suspended in mid air between the skylight and the floor. Hop Frog, clinging to the chain as it rose, still maintained his relative position in respect to the eight maskers, and, still, as if nothing were the matter, continued to thrust his torch down toward them, as though endeavoring to discover who they were.

So thoroughly astonished was the whole company at this ascent that a dead silence of about a minute's duration ensued. It was broken by just such a low, harsh, grating sound as had before attracted the attention of the King and his counselors when the former threw the wine in the face of Trippetta. But on the present occasion there could be no question as to whence the sound issued.

It came from the fanglike teeth of the dwarf, who ground them and gnashed them as he foamed at the mouth and glared with an expression of maniacal rage into the upturned countenances of the King and his seven companions, said at length, the infuriated jester, ah, I begin to see who these people are now Here, pretending to scrutinize the king more closely, he held the flambeau to the flaxen coat, which enveloped him, and which instantly burst into

a sheet of vivid flat. In less than half a minute, the whole eight orangutans were blazing fiercely amid the shrieks of the multitude, who gazed at them from below, horror stricken, and without the power to render them the slightest assistance At length. The flames, suddenly increasing in virulence, forced the jester to climb higher up the chain to be out of their reach. And as he made this movement, the

crowd sank again for a brief instant into silence. The dwarf seized this opportunity, and once more he spoke, And now she distinctly, He said, what manner of people these maskers are? They are a great king and his seven privy councilors, the king who not scruple to strike a defenseless girl, and his seven councilors who will bet him in the outrage. As for myself, I am simply hot frog the jesta, and this is my last guest fur Mike, Yeah, he did. He dropped the mic while the king was

on fire. Owing to the high combustibility of both the flax and the tar, to which it adhered. The dwarf had scarcely made an end of his brief speech. Before the work of vengeance was complete, the eight corpses swung in their chains of fetid, black and hideous and indistinguishable mass and leave it to Poe. He hurled his torch at them, clambered leisurely to the ceiling, and disappeared through

the skylight. It is supposed that Trippetta, stationed on the roof of the saloon, had been the accomplice of her friend and his fiery revenge, and that together they affected their a gape to their own country, for neither was seen again. What get them? Hop Frog? Somebody needs to name something hop Frog in honor of hop Frog and Tripetta. I agree, because, uh boy, the king was a jerk. He uh it was cruel. Don't forget oily oily, and he got his come up and yeah, I would say

being burned alive is come up. And for sure in a as an orangutang to say yeah, to say the least insults injury. I want to say you got anything else, but that would imply that you have like another short story up your sleeve, do not? Well, that's it, everybody, We want to wish you all a safe and happy Halloween. UM, get scared, but not too scared, you know what I mean, Like Algrian and Blackwood scared. How about that? Agreed? Uh and we will see you next time with our regular

type of episode. But until the um so long Halloween, everybody m