Stuff You Should Know - SYSK’s Scare Your Socks Off Halloween Spooktacular 2019

Episode Date: October 31, 2019

Josh and Chuck chose a truly unsettling story by one of the greatest science fiction authors of all time – Philip K Dick. Join the boys as they read “The Hanging Stranger,” complete with scary sound effects by the Extraordinary Jeri! Learn more about your ad-choices at https://www.iheartpodcastnetwork.comSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Hey everyone, it's me, Josh. Happy Halloween. We just wanted to give you guys a heads up that Jerry went all out with this Halloween episode. And there is a moment of surprisingly graphic violence. It's brief and it's quick, but we just wanted to give a heads up to all the people who are sensitive to violence and to all the parents. So at any rate, on with the show. Welcome to Stuff You Should Know, a production of I Heart Radio's How Stuff Works. Hello and welcome to the podcast. I'm Josh Clark. There's Charles W. Spooktacular Bryant. I think I would have had something better than that. And there's Jerry over there. She's

spooky all year round, so nothing different here. Nothing different. How are you doing? I'm great. I'm ready to get our Halloween read on. It's exciting. This is how many years in a row? Oh, man, I don't know. I think it goes back to something like 2010, maybe, pretty sure. And we don't want to pat ourselves in the back too much, but we have made great efforts everyone to keep the Halloween and Christmas episodes ad-free at great peril.

Oh, yeah. It's kind of like a constant clashing of swords against our shields and saying back, back, Huskies. And we've done a good job with it so far. That's right. So you won't hear any ads on this episode because that really kills the buzz of the mood. You will hear those in our... We're doing a shorty Halloween reading, in fact, I think that came out just prior to this one. And we didn't fight that battle, so sorry about that. No. Hopefully that was a nice little warm-up for this one, though. Yeah, just get you primed.

And this year, Chuck, we're doing one by an amazing author who hasn't been dead for 150 years, Philip K. Dick. That's right. Who wrote, Do Android's Dream of Electric Sheep, which became Blade Runner. That's right. A scanner, Darkly, all sorts of amazing stuff, right? Minority report, I think. And this one, he also wrote a bunch of short stories. And this one I found was like in the public domain. So I said, let's do Philip K. Dick.

That's right. And he said, heck yes, let's do Philip K. Dick. Because we don't want to get sued by the Dick Foundation. No. So we want to make sure that everyone knows this is public domain. That's right. So do you want to get started? Yeah. We haven't discussed order or anything. We usually freewheel it. Do you have this thing segmented out or you just want to knock me over the head when I've gotten too far?

I think we'll be able to tell. And if not, you know, we'll just edit out the roughness. How about that? Who's going to start? I'll start. All right, sure. Okay, you ready? I like the story, by the way. I love it. It's good. By the way, this is The Hanging Stranger by Philip K. Dick.

At five o'clock, Ed Lois washed up, tossed on his hat and coat, got his car out and headed across town toward his TV sales store. He was tired. His back and shoulders ached from digging dirt out of the basement and wheeling it into the backyard. But for a 40-year-old man, he had done okay. Janet could get a new vase with the money he'd saved, and he liked the idea of repairing the foundations himself. It was getting dark. The setting sun cast long rays over the scurrying commuters, tired and grim-faced, women loaded down with bundles and packages, students swarming home from the university, mixing with clerks and businessmen and drab secretaries. He stopped his packard

for a red light and then started it up again. The store had been open without him. He'd arrived just in time to spell the help for dinner, go over the records of the day, maybe even close a couple of sales himself. He drove slowly past the small square of Green in the center of the street, the town park. There were no parking places in front of Lois' TV sales and service. He cursed under his breath and swung the car in a U-turn. Again, he passed the little square of Green with its lonely drinking fountain and bench and single lamp post. From the lamp post, something was hanging, a shapeless dark bundle swinging a little

with the wind, like a dummy of some sort. Lois rolled down his window and peered out. What the hell was it? A display of some kind? Sometimes the Chamber of Commerce put up displays in the square. Again, he made a U-turn and brought his car around. He passed the park and concentrated on the dark bundle. It wasn't a dummy, and if it was a display, it was a strange kind. The hackles on his neck rose and he swallowed uneasily. Sweat slid out on his face and hands. It was a body, a human body. You want me to take over? That's you, buddy. All right. TV salesman, I'm really glad his wife is going to be able to buy that new vase. Sure. I thought that was a weird detail, too.

Because he's digging out the foundation of his house, which I think is, is that a red herring? We'll find out. We'll find out. Look at it, Lois snapped. Come on out here. Don Ferguson came slowly out of the store, buttoning his pinstripe coat with dignity. This is a big deal, Ed. I can't just leave the guy standing there. See it? Ed pointed into the gathering gloom. The lamp post jutted up against the sky. The post and the bundle swinging from it. There it is. How the hell long has it been there? His voice rose excitedly. What's wrong with everybody? They just walk on past. Don Ferguson lit a cigarette slowly. Take it easy, old man. There must be a good

reason or it wouldn't be there. A reason? What kind of a reason? Ferguson shrugged. Like the time the traffic safety council put that wrecked Buick there. Some sort of civic thing. How would I know? Geez. Ferguson's uptight. Yeah, a little uptight, sure. Jack Potter from the shoe shop joined them. What's up, boys? There's a body hanging from the lamp post, Lois said. I'm going to call the cops. They must know about it, Potter said. Or otherwise, it wouldn't be there. I got to get back in, Ferguson, headed back into the store. Business before pleasure. Lois began to get hysterical. You see it? You see it hanging there? A man's body. A dead man. Sure, Ed, I saw it this afternoon when

I went out for coffee. You mean it's been there all afternoon? Sure, what's the matter? Potter glanced at his watch. Have to run. See you later, Ed. Potter hurried off joining the flow of people moving along the sidewalk. Men and women passing by the park. A few glanced up curiously at the dark bundle and then went on. Nobody stopped. Nobody paid any attention. Very good, Chuck. That was really good. Yeah, apparently no one is concerned about this person hanging there but Ed Lois. Which is a little weird if you think about it. I'm going nuts, Lois whispered. He made his way to the curb and crossed out into traffic among the cars. Horns honked angrily at him. He gained the curb and stepped up onto the little

square of green. The man had been middle-aged. His clothing was ripped and torn. A gray suit splashed and caked with dried mud. A stranger. Lois had never seen him before, not a local man. His face was partly turned away, and in the evening wind he spun a little, turning gently, silently. His skin was gouged and cut. Red gashes, deep scratches of congealed blood. A pair of steel-rimmed glasses hung from one ear, dangling foolishly. His eyes bulged. His mouth was open, tongue thick and ugly blue. For heaven's sake, Lois muttered sickened. He pushed down his nausea and made his way back to the sidewalk. He was shaking all over with revulsion and fear. Why? Who was the man? Why was he hanging there? What

did it mean? And why didn't anybody notice? He bumped into a small man hurrying along the sidewalk. Watch it, the man grated. Oh, it's you, Ed. Ed nodded daisily. Hello, Jinkins. What's the matter? The stationary clerk caught Ed's arm. You look sick. The body there in the park. Sure, Ed. Jinkins led him into the alcove of Lois' TV sales and service. Take it easy. Margaret Henderson from the jewelry store joined them. Something wrong? Ed's not feeling well. Lois yanked himself free. How can you stay in here? Don't you see it? For God's sake, what's he talking about, Margaret asked nervously. The body, Ed shouted. The body hanging there. More people collected. Is he sick? Is Ed Lois? You okay yet? The

body, Lois screamed, struggling to get past them. Hands caught at him. He tore loose. Let me go. The police. Get the police. Ed, better get a doctor. He must be sick or drunk. Lois fought his way through the people. He stumbled and half fell. Through a blur, he saw rows of faces, curious, concerned, anxious. Men and women halting to see what the disturbance was. He fought past them toward his store. He could see Ferguson inside talking to a man, showing him an Emerson TV set. Pete Foley in the back of the service counter, setting up a new Philco. Lois shouted at them frantically. His voice was lost in the roar of traffic and the murmuring around him. Do something, he screamed. Don't stand there. Do something.

Something's wrong. Something's happened. Things are going on. The crowd melted respectfully for the two heavy-set cops moving efficiently toward Lois. Man, no one's listening to Lois. He's also losing his bananas, as they say. I think I would have handled it a little differently. What would you have done? I'm not judging it, Lois. All right. The cops are approaching here. Here we go. Name, the cop with the notebook murmured, Lois. He mopped his head wearily. Edward C. Lois. Listen to me. Back there. Address, the cop demanded. The police car moved swiftly through traffic, shooting among the cars and buses. Lois sagged against the seat, exhausted and confused. He took

a deep, shuddering breath. 1368, Hurst Road. That's here in Pikeville? That's right. Lois pulled himself up with a violent effort. Listen to me. Back there, in the square, hanging from the lamppost. Where were you today? The cop behind the wheel demanded. Where? Lois echoed. You weren't in your shop, were you? No, he shook his head. No, I was home, down in the basement. In the basement? Digging, a new foundation. Getting out the dirt to pour cement frame. Why? What has this got to do with? Was anybody else down there with you? No, my wife was downtown. My kids were at school. Lois looked from one heavy set cop to the other. Hope flickered across his face. Wild hope. You mean because I was down

there I missed the explanation? I didn't get in on it like everybody else? After a pause, the cop with the notebook said, That's right. You missed the explanation. Then it's official? The body is supposed to be hanging there? It's supposed to be hanging there for everybody to see. Ed Lois grinned weakly. Good lord. I guess I sort of went off the deep end. I thought, maybe something had happened. You know, something like the Ku Klux Klan. Some kind of violence. Communist or fascist taking over. He wiped his face with his breast pocket handkerchief. His hands shaking. I'm glad to know it's on the level. It's on the level. The police car was getting near the Hall of Justice. The sun had set. The streets were

gloomy and dark. The lights had not yet come on. I feel better, Lois said. I was pretty excited there for a minute. I guess I got all stirred up. Now that I understand, there's no need to take me in, is there? The two cops said nothing. Very nice. You ready? Yeah. It's eaten up. I know. You're a tough act to follow, but here I go. I should be back in my store. The boys haven't had dinner. I'm all right now. No more trouble. Is there any need of, this won't take long, the cop behind the wheel interrupted. A short process. Only a few minutes. I hope it's short, Lois muttered. The car slowed down for a stoplight. I guess I sort of disturbed the peace. Funny getting excited like that, and Lois yanked

the door open. He sprawled out into the street and rolled to his feet. Cars were moving all around him, gaining speed as the light changed. Lois leaped onto the curb and raced among the people, burrowing into the swarming crowds. Behind him, he heard sounds, shouts, people running. They weren't cops. He'd realized that right away. He knew every cop in Pikeville. A man couldn't own a store, operate a business in a small town for 25 years without getting to know all the cops. They weren't cops, and there hadn't been any explanation. Potter, Ferguson, Jenkins, none of them knew why it was there. They didn't know, and they didn't care. That was the strange part. Lois stucked into a hardware store. He raced toward the

back, passed the startled clerks and customers into the shipping room and through the back door. He tripped over a garbage can and ran up a flight of concrete steps. He climbed over a fence and jumped down on the other side, gasping and panting. There was no sound behind him. He had gotten away. I think it's back to you, man. All right. So he made a run for it. He did, and now he's kind of safe for the moment. He was at the entrance of an alley dark and strewn with boards and ruined boxes and tires. He could see the street at the far end, a streetlight wavered and came on. Men and women, stores,

neon signs, cars, and to his right, the police station. He was close, terribly close. Past the loading platform of a grocery store rose the white concrete side of the Hall of Justice, colored windows, the police antenna, a great concrete wall rising up in the darkness, a bad place for him to be near. He was too close. He had to keep moving, get farther away from them. Them? Lois moved cautiously down the alley. Beyond the police station was the city hall, the old-fashioned yellow structure of wood and gilded brass and broad cement steps. He could see the endless rows of offices, dark windows, the cedars and beds of flowers on each side

of the entrance, and something else. Above the city hall was a patch of darkness, a cone of gloom denser than the surrounding night, a prism of black that spread out and was lost into the sky. Weird. I know, very weird. He listened. Good God, he could hear something, something that made him struggle frantically to close his ears, his mind to shut out the sound, a buzzing, a distant, muted hum, like a great swarm of bees. Oh boy, things are getting bad. It is. Whenever you see a cone of gloom denser than the surrounding night, that's not a

good sign. All right, go ahead. Lois gazed up, rigid with horror, the splotch of darkness hanging over city hall. Darkness so thick, it seemed almost solid. In the vortex, something moved, flickering shapes, things descending from the sky, pausing momentarily above the city hall, fluttering over it in a dense swarm and then dropping silently onto the roof. Shapes, fluttering shapes from the sky, from the crack of darkness that hung above him. He was seeing them. For a long time, Lois watched, crouched behind a sagging fence in a pool of scummy water.

They were landing, coming down in groups, landing on the roof of the city hall and disappearing inside. They had wings, like giant insects of some kind. They flew and fluttered and came to rest and then crawled, crab fashion, sideways across the roof and into the building. He was sickened and fascinated. Cold night wind blew around him and he shuddered. He was tired, dazed with shock. On the front steps of the city hall were men standing here and there, groups of men coming out of the building and halting for a moment before going on. Were there more of them? It didn't seem possible. What he saw descending from the black chasm weren't men, they were alien from some other world, some other dimension, sliding

through the slit, this break in the shell of the universe, entering through this gap, winged insects from another realm of being. That's me hitting the tennis ball back to you. This is getting pretty scary. I think so too. I mean, now we've got winged insect aliens coming from a chasm in the sky onto city hall. Or do we just have a man losing his mind? That's a really good question, Chuck. Let's explore that further.

On the steps of the city hall a group of men broke up, a few moved toward a waiting car. One of the remaining shapes started to re-enter the city hall. It changed its mind and turned to follow the others. Lois closed his eyes in horror. His senses reeled. He hung on tight, clutching at the sagging fence. The shape, the man's shape, had abruptly fluttered up and flapped after the others. It flew to the sidewalk and came to rest among them. Pseudo-men, imitation-men. Insects with ability to disguise themselves as men. Like other insects familiar to earth, protective coloration, mimicry.

Lois pulled himself away. He got slowly to his feet. It was night. The alley was totally dark. But maybe they could see in the dark. Maybe darkness made no difference to them. He left the alley cautiously and moved out onto the street. Men and women flowed past, but not so many. Now. At the bus stop stood waiting groups, a huge bus lumbering along the street, its lights flashing in the evening gloom. Lois moved forward. He pushed his way among those waiting, and when the bus halted, he boarded it and took a seat in the rear by the door. A moment later, the bus moved into life and rumbled down the street.

Lois relaxed a little. He studied the people around him, dulled, tired faces. People going home from work, quite ordinary faces. None of them paid any attention to him. All sat quietly, sunk down in their seats, jiggling with the motion of the bus. The man sitting next to him unfolded a newspaper. He began to read the sports section, his lips moving, an ordinary man, blue suit, tie, a businessman, or a salesman on his way home to his wife and family. Across the aisle, a young woman, perhaps twenty. Dark eyes and hair, a package on her lap, nylons and heels. Red coat and white angora sweater, gazing absently ahead of her. A high school boy in jeans and black jacket. A great triple-chinned woman with

an immense shopping bag, loaded with packages and parcels. Her face dimmed with weariness. Ordinary people, the kind that rode the bus every evening, going home to their families to dinner. Well, you can make riding the bus home to dinner sound sinister, Chuck. Thanks. Nice work. Going home with their minds dead, controlled, filmed over with the mask of an alien being that had appeared and taken possession of them, their town, their lives, himself too, except that he had happened to be deep in his cellar instead of in the store. Somehow, he had been overlooked. They had missed him. Their control wasn't perfect. Foolproof. Maybe there were

others. Hope flickered in the loice. They were not omnipotent. They had made a mistake, not gotten control of him. Their net, their field of control, had passed over him. He had emerged from his cellar as he had gone down. Apparently, their power zone was limited. A few seats down the aisle, a man was watching him. Loice broke off his chain of thought, a slender man with dark hair and a small mustache, well-dressed, brown suit, shiny shoes, a book between his small hands. He was watching Loice, studying him intently. He quickly turned away. Loice tensed, one of them or another they had missed. The man was watching him again, small dark

eyes, alive and clever, shrewd, a man too shrewd for them or one of the things, an alien insect from beyond. The bus halted. An elderly man got on slowly and dropped his token into the box. He moved down the aisle and took a seat opposite Loice. The elderly man caught the sharp-eyed man's gaze. For a split second, something passed between them. A look rich with meaning. Loice got to his feet. The bus was moving. He ran to the door. One step down into the well, he yanked the emergency door release. The rubber door swung open. Hey! The driver shouted jamming on his brakes. What the hell? I just wanted to keep reading until I got to say hell. You want me to take over? Okay. Loice squirmed through. The bus

was slowing down. Houses on all sides. A residential district, lawns and tall apartment buildings. Behind him, the bright-eyed man had leapt up. The elderly man was also on his feet. They were coming after him. Loice leaped. He hit the pavement with terrific force and rolled against the curb. Pain lapped over him. Pain in a vast hide of blackness. Desperately, he fought it off. He struggled to his knees and then slid down again. The bus had stopped. People were getting off. Loice groped around. His fingers closed over something. A rock lying in the gutter. He crawled to his feet grunting with pain. A shape loomed before him. A man. The bright-eyed man with a book. Loice kicked. The man gasped and fell. Loice brought

the rock down. The man screamed and tried to roll away. Stop! For God's sakes, listen! He struck again. A hideous crunching sound. The man's voice cut off and dissolved in a bubbling wail. Loice scrambled up and back. The others were there now. All around him. He ran awkwardly down the sidewalk up a driveway. None of them followed him. They had stopped and were bending over the inert body of the man with the book. The bright-eyed man who had come after him. Had he made a mistake? But it was too late to worry about that. He had to get out, away from them, out of Pikeville, beyond the crack of darkness. The rent between their world and his. He really shakes off a possible murder pretty

easy. Too late to worry about that. That's in my past. It happened ten seconds ago. Gotta move forward. Ed! Janet Loice backed away nervously. What is it? What? Ed Loice slammed the door behind him and came into the living room. Pull down the shades quick. Janet moved toward the window. But do as I say. Who else is here beside you? Nobody. Just the twins. They're upstairs in their room. What happened? You look so strange. Why are you home? Do you like the new vase? I bought it with the money we saved on the foundation work you did. Ed locked the front door. He prowled around the house, into the kitchen. From the drawer under the sink, he slid out the big butcher knife and ran his finger along it.

Sharp. Plenty sharp. He returned to the living room. Listen to me, he said. I don't have much time. They know I escaped and they'll be looking for me. Escaped! Janet's face twisted with bewilderment and fear. The town has been taken over. They're in control. I've got it pretty well figured out. They started at the top at the city hall and police department. What they did with the real humans. What are you talking about? We've been invaded from some other universe, some other dimension. They're insects, mimicry, and more power to control our minds. Your mind. My mind. Their interest is here. I think this is the role you were born to play. Thank you. Janet Lloyds. Janet Lloyds. Their interest is here in Pikeville.

They've taken over all of you, the whole town, except me. We're up against an incredibly powerful enemy, but they have their limitations. That's our hope. They're limited. They can make mistakes. Janet's shook her head. I don't understand, Ed. You must be insane. Insane? No, just lucky. If I hadn't been down in the basement, I'd be like all the rest of you. Lloyds peered around the window, but I can't stand here talking. Get your coat. My coat? We're getting out of here, out of Pikeville. We've got to help to fight this thing. They can be beaten. They're not infallible. It's going to be close, but we may make it if we hurry. Come on. He grabbed her arm roughly. Get your coat and call the twins. We're all

leaving. Don't stop to pack. There's no time for that. White faced, his wife moved toward the closet and got down her coat. Where are we going? Ed pulled open the desk drawer and spilled the contents out onto the floor. He grabbed up a roadmap and spread it open. They have all the highways covered, of course, but there's a back row to Oak Grove. I got onto it once. It's practically abandoned. Maybe they'll forget about it. The old ranch road. Good Lord. It's completely closed. Nobody's supposed to drive over it. I know, Ed thrust the map grimly in his coat. That's our best chance. Now call down the twins and let's get going. Your car is full of gas, isn't it? Janet was dazed. Should I keep going?

Oh man, keep going. The Chevy. I had it filled up yesterday afternoon. Janet moved toward the stairs. Ed, I call the twins. Ed unlocked the front door and peered out. Nothing stirred. No sign of life. All right, so far. Come on downstairs, Janet called in the wavering voice. We're going out for a while. Now let me do a different one for Tommy. Now Tommy's voice came. Hurry up, Ed Bark. Get down here, both of you. Tommy appeared at the stairs. I'm just doing my homework. We're starting fractions. Miss Parker says, if we don't get this done, you can forget about fractions. Ed grabbed his son as he came down the stairs and propelled him toward the door. Where's Jim? He's coming. Jim started slowly down

the stairs. What's up, Dad? We're going for a ride. A ride where? Ed turned to Janet. We'll leave all the lights on and the TV set. Go turn it on. He pushed her toward the set. So they'll think we're still... He heard the buzz and dropped instantly the long butcher knife out. Sickened, he saw it coming down the stairs at him. Wings a blur of motion as it aimed itself. It still bore a vague resemblance to Jimmy. It was small, a baby one, a brief glimpse, the thing hurtling at him cold, multi-lensed inhuman eyes, wings, totally still clothed in a yellow t-shirt and jeans, the mimic outline still stamped on it. A strange half-turn of its body as it reached him. What was it doing? A stinger.

Lois stabbed wildly at it. It retreated, buzzing frantically. Lois rolled and crawled toward the door. Tommy and Janet stood still as statues, faces blank, watching without expression. Lois stabbed again. This time the knife connected. The thing shrieked and faltered. It bounced against the wall and fluttered down. Something lapped through his mind. A wall of force, energy, an alien mind probing into him. He was suddenly paralyzed. The mind entered his own, touched against him briefly, shockingly, an utter alien presence settling over him. And then it flickered out as the thing collapsed in a broken heap on the rug. It was dead. He turned it over with his foot. It was an insect, a fly of some kind. Yellow t-shirt,

jeans, his son Jimmy. He closed his mind tight. It was too late to think about that. Savagely, he scooped up his knife and headed toward the door. Janet and Tommy stood, stone still, neither of them moving. The car was out. He'd never get through. They'd be waiting for him. It was ten miles on foot, ten long miles over rough ground, gullies in open fields and hills of uncut forest. He'd have to go alone. Lois opened the door. For a brief second, he looked back at his wife and son. Then he slammed the door behind him and raced down the porch steps. Man, it is really quick to kill and move on. All right. Too late for that.

That is move. Yup. Stab and forget. That's right. Stab and forget. Okay. A moment later, he was on his way, hurrying swiftly through the darkness toward the edge of town. The early morning sunlight was blinding. Lois halted, gasping for breath, swaying back and forth. Sweat ran down in his eyes. His clothing was torn, shredded by the brush and thorns through which he had crawled. Ten miles on his hands and knees, crawling, creeping

through the night. His shoes were mud caked. He was scratched and limping, utterly exhausted. But ahead of him lay oak grove. He took a deep breath and started down the hill. Twice he stumbled and fell, picking himself up and trudging on. His ears rang. Everything receded and wavered, but he was there. He had gotten out, away from Pikeville. A farmer in a field gaped at him. From a house a young woman watched in wonder. Lois reached the road and turned on to it. Ahead of him was a gas station and a drive-in, a couple of trucks, some chickens pecking in the dirt, a dog tied with a string. The white clad attendant watched suspiciously as he dragged himself up to the station.

Thank God! he caught ahold of the wall. I didn't think I was going to make it. They followed me most of the way. I could hear them buzzing, buzzing and flitting around behind me. What happened? The attendant demanded. You in a wreck? A hold up? Lois shook his head weirdly. They have the whole town. The city hall and the police station. They hung a man from the lamppost. That was the first thing I saw. They got all the roads blocked. I saw them hovering over the cars coming in. About four this morning, I got beyond them. I knew it right away. I could feel them leave. And then the sun came up. The attendant licked

his lips nervously. You're out of your head. I better get a doctor. Give me an old crow, Lois gasped. He sank down on the gravel. We've got to get started. Cleaning them out. Got to get started right away. On to you, Chuckers. He kept a tape recorder going all the time he talked. When he had finished, the commissioner snapped off the recorder and got to his feet. He stood for a moment deep in thought. Finally, he got out his cigarettes and lit up slowly, a frown on his beefy face. You don't believe me, Lois said. The commissioner offered him a cigarette. Lois pushed it impatiently

away. Search yourself. The commissioner moved over to the window and stood for a time, looking out at the town of Oak Grove. I believe you, he said abruptly. Lois sagged, thank God. So you got away, the commissioner shook his head. You were down in your cellar instead of at work, a freak chance, one in a million. Lois sipped some of the black coffee they had brought him. I have a theory, he murmured. What is it? About them, who they are. They take over one

area at a time, starting at the top, the highest level of authority, working down from there in a widening circle. When they're firmly in control, they go on to the next town. They spread slowly, very gradually. I think it's been going on for a long time. Wait, Ed's really filling in the blanks here, isn't he? He really is. He's got it all figured out. A long time? Thousands of years. I don't think it's new. Why do you say that? When I was a kid, a picture they showed us in Bible League, a religious picture, an old print, the enemy gods, defeated by Jehovah, Moloch, Beelzebub, Moab, Balin, Ash-Toroth.

Chuck, I think you just raised a bunch of demons accidentally. I think so. So? They were all represented by figures. Lois looked up at the commissioner. Beelzebub was represented as a giant fly. The commissioner grunted. An old struggle. They've been defeated. The Bible is an account of their defeats. They make gains, but finally, they're defeated. Why defeated? They can't get everyone. They didn't get me. And they never got the Hebrews. The Hebrews carried the message to the whole world. The realization

of the danger. The two men on the bus. I think they understood. Had escaped like I did. He clinched his fists. I killed one of them. I made a mistake. I was afraid to take a chance. The commissioner nodded. Yes, they undoubtedly had escaped, as you did. Freak accidents. But the rest of the town was firmly in control. He turned from the window. Well, Mr. Lois, you seem to have figured everything out. Not everything. The hanging man. The dead man hanging from the lamppost. I don't understand that. Why? Why did they deliberately hang him there? That would seem simple. The commissioner smiled faintly. Bait. Lloyd stiffened his heart stop beating. Bait? What do you mean? To draw you out. Make you

declare yourself. So they'd know who was under control and who had escaped. Lois recoiled with horror. Then they expected failures. They anticipated. He broke off. They were ready with a trap. And you showed yourself. You reacted. You made yourself known. The commissioner abruptly moved toward the door. Come along, Lois. There's a lot to do. We must get moving. There's no time to waste. Lois started slowly to his feet, numbed. And the man. Who was the man? I never saw him before. He wasn't a local man. He was a stranger. All muddy and dirty. His face cut, slashed. There was a strange look on the commissioner's face as he answered. Maybe, he said softly, you'll understand that too. Come along with

me, Mr. Lois. He held the door open, his eyes gleaming. Lois caught a glimpse of the street in front of the police station. Policemen. A platform of some sort. A telephone pole. And a rope! Right this way, the commissioner said, smiling coldly. All right. I think we know what's happening. Take us home. As the sun set, the vice president of the Oak Grove Merchants Bank came up out of the vault. Through the heavy time locks, put on his hat and coat, and hurried outside onto the sidewalk. Only a few people were there, hurrying home to dinner. Good night, the guard said, locking the door after him. Good night, Clarence Mason murmured. He started along the street toward his car. He was tired.

He had been working all day down in the vault, examining the layout of the safety deposit boxes to see if there was room for another tear. He was glad to be finished. At the corner he halted. The street lights had not yet come on. The street was dim. Everything was vague. He looked around and froze. From the telephone pole in front of the police station, something large and shapeless hung. It moved a little with the wind. What the hell was it? Mason approached it warily. He wanted to get home. He was tired and hungry. He thought of his wife, his kids, a hot meal on the dinner table. But there was something about the dark bundle, something ominous and ugly. The light was bad. He couldn't tell

what it was. Yet it drew him on, made him move closer for a better look. The shapeless thing made him uneasy. He was frightened by it, frightened and fascinated. The strange part was that nobody else seemed to notice it. All right. That's The Hanging Stranger by Philip K. Dick. Pretty good. What's your take? Whether he was insane or not, I think the end proves that he was quite sane. And that he would just be the next victim? The bank manager? No. Lois was the next victim. He was part of a chain of bait. I think he was sane, but he definitely killed another non-possessed person and his son with a rock.

I think though, because he wasn't insane, that his son was a human fly, like the cramps said. Yeah, because he was not insane. So what he saw was real, which means that him seeing his son flying around, trying to sting him, was real. All right. What's your take? It was that, what you said. Okay. See, this is why we get along so well, Chuck. I got to see this thing visually. Somebody needs to make this into a short film. It would be a pretty good one, I think. And it's public domain. That's right. I'm just saying.

Well, thank you very much, everybody. Happy Halloween to you. Hopefully you enjoyed this. Sure it wasn't fact-based. It was a little more fictitious than usual, but it is after all Halloween. Yeah, be safe out there. Yes, for sure. And enjoy your trick-or-treating and your Halloween parties and bobbing for apples and happy Halloween to everybody. Go enjoy this, one of the most greatest holidays of all time.