The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 001: I Was The Hitchiker (ft. Kate Siegel and Josh Ruben)

Episode Date: July 20, 2023

A mysterious man with a dark secret gets the ride of his life. Stars Kate Siegel (Hush, The Haunting of Hill House, Midnight Mass) and Josh Ruben (Werewolves Within, A Wounded Fawn)Featuring Stephen Knowles as The Antique Dealer. Written by Moe T.Theme music by The Newton Brothers. Additional music:On Entering The 9th Circle by Brian Holtz MusicFree download: https://filmmusic.io/song/9269-on-entering-the-9th-circleLicense: Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0)Lightless Dawn by Kevin MacLeodFree download: https://filmmusic.io/song/3982-lightless-dawnLicense: Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0)Investigate (Loopable) by Dave DevilleFree download: https://filmmusic.io/song/10777-investigate-loopableLicense: Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0)An Evil Wynd by Tim KuligFree download: https://filmmusic.io/song/9830-an-evil-wyndLicense: Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0)Ingestion Of Sorrows by Tim KuligFree download: https://filmmusic.io/song/9828-ingestion-of-sorrowsLicense: Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0)Carne Arrabiatta by Tim KuligFree download: https://filmmusic.io/song/9826-carne-arrabiattaLicense: Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0) Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Why, hello and welcome. We do love visitors here at the Antiquarium. If I may be so bold to ask, what brings you into our cozy establishment this fine evening? Ah, you don't say. I think I've got just the thing. There you go. A genuine leather wallet,

well-worn with a stunning patina. But it also carries with it the dark secret that you are not going to believe. We got this in from the owner of a former historic hostel. Oh, I see. You are a curious one, aren't you? Well then, sit back and make yourself at home. I call this one, I was the hitchhiking. Welcome

to the antiquarium of sinister happenings and odd goings on. It's awkward to be the hitchhiker to be on this side of a scary folktale. Let's not talk about how I got here. That's not really important. What matters is,

I've never looked more disheveled. I've never felt more awkward just a weird-looking dork sticking my thumb out on an empty road, sandwich between two forests. Pitch black. This midnight, I think. I didn't have my watch on me or my phone or anything else that tells the time.

My internal clock ain't great either, but let's say it's between 10, 49, 2 a.m., I think, probably. Cargo's past. It doesn't even think about stopping. I don't blame him. It looked like a couple that were just coming back from a fun camping trip, and they don't need my nonsense right now. I mean, I wouldn't stop for me. Just be silly, really?

I'll hold out hope. Maybe a van filled a capacity save for one seat in the back would stop for me. They could take a chance. After all, I'd try anything funny. I'd be vastly outnumbered. 20 minutes past. No van. Actually, no cars at all.

I guess people don't really use this road or slate. And hitchhiking on Wednesday night or Thursday morning. This isn't really a wise move. Oh. Oh, look, a car. They're slowing to stop. Oh, not... It doesn't look like they can take me, but, uh, they look, uh, apologetic?

That's sweet. You're just sort of mumbling, sorry, and shrugging. Nah, that's fine. I'm glad you looked at me, really. I'm pacing now, and I wish I had my cigarettes. I hate being in one place for too long. I hate being alone with my brain. I ruminate.

I hear sounds coming from the forest, and they creep me out. I think about worst-case scenarios all the time. You know how your brain can drum up something much scarier and anything real life can throw at you. Yeah, I just need to try to be present. Second thought? Maybe I should just stay in my head. It's safer up here.

The more mindful I get right now, the more it's clear I'm in the middle of the fucking road with no hope of getting home. There's a feeling of tension in my chest. It's tight. It aches. I breathe into it. It'll dissipate. I've lived with anxiety long enough. I have my tools.

Yes. I did in fact notice a car in front of me on the road, slowing to a stop. And no, I'm not going to get my hopes up. Shit, the driver looks professional. Like, she actually has her life in order. Ah, and don't do this. Statistically, this isn't a good move. The odds are not in your favor.

She looks like she just straightened her hair, like she's come from some sort of tech conference, business, casual, like you could put her in a brochure. Fucking hell, she looks my age. Don't do this. I could be a man. maniac. I can wait for the van. You look like you've had a rough night.

Hey, uh, look. Thank you for the kind gesture, but, um, I'm actually kind of waiting for a car with more people in it so that it's, well, you know, less weird, uh, for everyone. Get in. I'll be okay. Okay. If I'm being honest, I'm praying for another car to come by and, uh, well, no, it doesn't. So, I get in. Lady, I'm going to give you a lecture about safety once you drop me off. It's not wise to pick up a scruffy hitchhiker like me in the middle of the night. But first...

Whereabouts you're heading? Honestly, two hours in the direction you're already driving. I'm in Morgantown. Anywhere in the city is fine. Cool. I can take you a good chunk of the way there, I think. Depends on how much I like you. I'm kidding.

I'm just grateful for the ride. Thank you. We sit in silence for a bit. You know, and I'm hoping she's putting on the radio or something. You know, usually people are more talkative. I don't want to start ruminating again. And I'm sitting here and I'm just, I'm wondering what she's thinking. She regret picking me up.

Is this weird? She's scared for her safety. I mean, she shouldn't be. She shouldn't be. But I get it. This is weird, right? So I do have to ask, it's Thursday morning at 1 a.m.,

what are you? you doing in the middle of the road? 1 a.m. nailed it. My internal clock's better than I thought. And look, lady, I know you just want to have a conversation, but I really don't want to answer this question. Um, a, uh, it's just a retreat with friends. You know, we do it every year. It's a bit of a ritual.

Right. And does the retreat end with you standing in the middle of the road looking the way you do right now? No offense. Oh, no. No, uh, none taken. And, no, I left early on not so great terms. That's it? That's it.

You know, she's shaking her head to me, and then there's this awkward silence. I'm starting to go back into my head, please, lady, please turn on the radio or something. You know, if you talked more, it would be easier to trust you. I mean, I did pick you up in the middle of the night. Hey, you're free to drop me off wherever you want. I feel weird about this, too. It's kind of like when you're accidentally walking behind someone at night and you feel weird, but you two are going the same way, you know?

And yet you stuck out your thumb and got in the car. Good point? I mean, it was a good point. It's good to self-reflect sometimes, right? I mean, I could be a hypocrite now. Sure. Okay. I'll tell you something about me.

But then you have to tell me more about you. Damn it. She is cute. Well, I picked you up because I've had benders before in a past life. I mean, come on. I didn't always look this fancy. I had to sort some shit out in my life. For someone who claims to be as grounded and put together as you are,

picking me up was pretty silly. Again, statistically, a pretty stupid choice. And so, you know, I've had nights' where people would go out of their way to drop me off at home. I'd literally been in your shoes, you know, disheveled, barely awake, drunk out of my mind, sticking my thumb out on an empty road. And honestly, it was just as scary getting picked up,

but I trusted people. And they took care of me and brought me home. So in a way, I guess I'm paying it forward. I have full trust that the universe balances things out. She said all that with a smile. mile, kind of endearing, you know. I'm not sure if I trust all that, but endearing nonetheless, I begrudgingly nod. Oh, that's, uh, that's actually kind of wholesome. Now you? I sigh. This road runs long. It's kind of scary outside. Maybe if she likes me

enough, she'll take me all the way home. I don't want to be out on the street again. I'll open up. Just a bit. All right. Okay, yeah. So you ever have that group of friends where you change so much as a person that you probably shouldn't be friends with them anymore, but you also feel obligated to show up when they ask you to come out? So you end up going to that stupid event you know you shouldn't be going to?

And you regret it immediately. Hey, exactly, exactly. So I go because we're all buddies, right? Right? And we go way back, except I don't like the idea to getting trashed at a hostel and having to, you know, give the group of my phone, my keys, my wallet, everything. Play that stupid game we all play. Stupid game? But you have to promise not to judge me. The game is, so basically what is, so each of us has to hit the town and find a girl to, you know, to,

bring back to our room. And anyone who doesn't succeed has to sleep outside without any of their belongings. Well, you and your friends really are chauvinistic morons, aren't you? Morons. Oh, that's good. Yeah, no, like I said, I shouldn't be friends with them anymore. Oh, I'm kidding. You shouldn't let your guard down too quickly. I haven't finished my story yet. So I take a beat And then I continue. So I came this time, but my terms were clear. I hang out, we can drink, I'm happy to be a wingman, anyone playing that stupid game.

But beyond that, I won't be participating. I want to stay at home, kickback, have a relaxing time. But you didn't really think they'd let you not participate, did you? I did. That's why I came. Really? Yeah, yeah, really, really. Moron.

Wow, okay, you almost getting too comfortable. With me now. Great diversion. But you didn't tell me the whole story, did you? You know, if I had cigarettes and a light, I'd be happy to go back onto the street, but I don't. All right.

You win, lady. Okay, uh, well, they pulled their bullshit on me, okay? I had a couple of drinks in me, and slowly those assholes, I grabbed my keys, my wallet, my phone, my fucking smokes. Little by little.

Pricks. Uh-oh. I'm getting heated. I'm scaring her, aren't I? By the time I knew the jig was up, they all got together to try to pick me up and throw me outside. You know, force me to play that dumb game with them. Force me to bring a girl back to our room.

Let's try to cool it. You lost your shit, didn't you? I lost my shit. I lost my shit. I freaked out. I'm not usually an angry drunk, but some of me snapped this time. You know, Mark, he grabbed me by the legs.

And Francesco had my arms. They were trying to drag me outside. And they, they were laughing. So I started kicking and punching hard. You know, and once I got my footing, I was just straight up swinging at them full force. And I feel like I did some damage, too. I mean, nothing like too severe.

But, you know, Mark fell to the floor, and I kept hitting him. You know, everyone eventually tore me off him, but I was still, I was still, like, lashing out. Not physically anymore, but I was like, I was screaming, you know, verbs. It was like verbal. you know, like emotional abuse. It was weird.

God damn it, I need to save this shit for therapy. I, um, anyways. So they all just looked at me mortified like I was a freak or something. And so I walked out of the front door and here I am. It took me 15 minutes of walking and I realized I didn't have my phone or my keys or my wallet, cigarettes, anything. I wanted to go back inside to ask them my stuff, but I just felt weird, you know, because of my little moment. Like, something was stopping me. Just, just think.

You know, it would have been so awkward, no, to freak out and punch my friends and come back and say, I'm sorry, by the way. I know I'm rambling. I kind of, I kind of have this habit of getting stuck in my head sometimes. I'm sorry. I really wish I had a cigarette right now. Oh, fucking hell, I can't even look at her now. You know, she's staring at me like I'm a fucking moron.

Keep your eyes on the road, man. Dude, you're a fucking moron. Yeah, I know. What are you going to do about your stuff? I don't know. I'll just call them or something, you know, later, like in a few days or to apologize. I'll need to borrow someone's phone to do that, obviously, or alternatively, I could bring you back to the hospital tonight. They'd let me come back in if I bring a pretty lady, right?

She stops the car. Now I've done it. I'm sorry. Hey, stupid joke, I say. And then there's this awkward silence. until she slowly starts driving again. You're not making this easy. I know.

The road stretches long. From the customer service department at the Antiquarium. We're sorry you're having trouble. The chaos magic encoded within this audio file has detected excessive levels of transference from your subconscious. Please hold and we will resume your sacrament momentarily. Turn to the sacred right already in progress.

Should you become uncomfortable at any point during your experience? Please reach out to an associate or press stop on your device immediately. Thank you. Are your friends smokers, too? No, just me. You sure about that? Why would they lift your cigarettes if they don't smoke? Just to be dicks, I guess.

You know, they're just like that. Fuck. This road is long. I guess I really never paid attention to roast before. Huh. That's kind of weird. Why is there an eye on the glove compartment? box. Why is it blinking?

What, uh, what is that, I ask? Poignant. Just decoration. Will you miss that when you got in? Fuck, I'm out of it. Silence. You think your friends will forgive you? I mean, who knows? We were already drift apart anyway. Maybe it's for the best if they don't forgive me. Right. How does Riley feel about it? Riley. Yeah. Uh, yeah. I don't really know how he's.

feels about it. Probably the same as the other guys. Um, hey, when did I talk about Riley? Silence. I never said his name before. Yeah, you did. You've been rambling for a while, repeating yourself over and over again, and then forgetting that you said anything. Buck. What? Stretch is long. I look back.

This road stretches long. How much did I drink? Am I fucked up? And seriously, why is there an eye on the glove compartment? And now you're spiraling. You're in your head, and it's going to be super quiet and awkward for a few minutes. Oh, shit. Clearly, my hitchhiker etiquette needs some work. I'm being unseemly.

I'm sorry, I just... Weird night. It's fine. Just take a chill pill, Michael. Breathe in. Relax. It's all good. I never said my name before.

You are really forgetting stuff. No. No, I'm not actually, and I hate to use a very overused term, but it sort of feels like you're gaslighting me right now. Look, I'm not comfortable with you freaking out at me. Just look out your window, take a breath, and cool it. I'll get you home. Oh, fine.

Fucking hell. I'm back in my head with my thoughts. Back to looking outside. This road stretches long. This road stretches. Real long. Am I losing it? Fucking eye is still there.

It's still looking at me. You know, I'm not. I think Mark smoked your cigarettes after you left to calm down. All right, she wants to break the tension by theorizing about my friends. Fuck it. I'm here for it. I think he smoked them indoors. A few of them. I think he tossed them, half smoked and still lit into a large pot of plant. And I don't think he knew any better.

I think they caught fire. Why does it feel like we're driving on a large, open field? What are you saying? I don't think your friends knew what to do. They were probably too fucked up. So the whole place was up in flames quickly. Really, really quickly. Smiling at me, right at me, deranged.

I look away. I look in front of me. The cosmos. But it's not inspiring. It looks like hell. Black holes all around us, empty space. What the fuck is happening? And now I don't want to look at it.

See her in my peripheral vision? She's still smiling at me. A little bit, her smile and her teeth beyond her face. Her face is extending beyond her face. Her whole being is taking up more space. Animated? Unreal. Pitch.

I was so clear. It doesn't make sense. I feel like I'm prey. This feels like nature. Her eyes are smiling. Warm. She's looking at me harder than anyone's ever looked at me in my life. Maybe if I keep doing what I'm going to be.

I'm doing. I can stay alive. If it wasn't a cigarette, it would have been something else. You shouldn't blame yourself. Did she always sound like this? I turned away from her. My eyes are back on the road. Sorry, on the cosmos. The universe stretches long.

They were all going to depart tonight. Hey, what's in my mouth. Don't think. Don't think about this. Just look ahead. Eyes on the universe. Just don't move. Fuck.

Wait. Is that my house? House? Is that my house? Why is my house in the middle of fucking cosmos? Why is it here? I want to go home. I want to go home. Home, real home.

I can feel your muscles twitching in your arms and legs. I can smell your intestine. I need to stop thinking. It'll pass. One way or another, this will end. You never eat carrots. Lying is a casual sport for you. You're happier than you.

We get it on the windshield. I can feel her face on the headrest against the back of my head. She's speaking into me. You're trying. That is correct, ma'am. I hope this fucking car crashes. No, you don't. You're hoping it will help you?

Quiet. Breathe in. She's stretching into the cosmos. She's everywhere. In and out. It's okay. That's how anxiety is. You get worse before it gets better.

She's in front of my face. She's an inclusive. Closer when I close my eyes. In. And out. Are you supposed to be there tonight, too? Yes. And yet you weren't.

No. No, I wasn't. Do you deserve this exit? I'm not sure. It's coming up soon. I know. I'll ask you again. Fuck.

She pierces my hand. And my shoulder. Did you change enough before tonight to deserve this exit? Please, bet this. No. No, I didn't. I think I'm a piece of shit. I think I deserve to die.

She makes her right on the exit and we drive. Everything returns to form. Like how it all should be. Trees, road, concrete, gravity, sky. I'm home? That's it? This morning.

The sun is coming up. Pardon the cliche, but I actually think I hear birds chirping. And she's business casual. professional, all put together. But I am bleeding from my hand and my shoulder, and that eyeball on the glove compartment box is still there. And we're parked on the street right in front of my house. Okay.

I've always been particularly shit at saying goodbye to people who drop me off. I opened the car door, I trudge onto the sidewalk, I look back at her. I close the car door. and there is a slow trickle of blood onto the sidewalk, a little bit on a car. Sorry about that. I should go inside and get myself cleaned up. Oh, fuck. No keys.

We're looking at each other. You said some really mean stuff about yourself back there. You shouldn't sell yourself short, you know? I believe her. I do a half wave, and before I can think to myself, please God just, just, fucking drive off. Please. She starts driving off.

The road that stretches long and long and long and long. And she's in view still. And smaller. And smaller, he's gone. It's kind of nice outside. I never realize how pretty this neighborhood is.

Maybe I should stand here for a little while. Thank you for your patronage. Hope you enjoyed your new relic as much as I've enjoyed passing along its sordid history. It does come with our usual warning, however. Absolutely no refunds, no exchanges, and we won't be held liable for anything that may

or may not occur while the object is in your possession. Oh, you think just because you're only listening to my voice that you have nothing to be concerned about, let me assure you that your visit to the antiquarium, whether in the flesh or in your mind's eye, is most certainly not in vain. You are the architect of this place. I must say you've done a hell of a job, even the way you have given me a face and carved out the most minute details of my person in that cerebrum of yours is quite impressive indeed. Therefore, the items you procure within these walls, even on a metaphysical level, are very, very real and are now and forever part of your subconscious.

All part of our standard bill of sale, really? Till next time, we'll be waiting for you when, Whenever you close your eyes, in the space between sleep and dream. During regular business hours, of course, or by appointment, only for you, our best customer. You have a good night now. I am of sinister happenings. Lot Zero-Zer1, I was the Hitchhiker, written by Mo T, featuring Josh Rubin as the Hitchhiker. Kate Siegel as the driver.

Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer. Additional music by Kevin McLeod, Brian Holtz, Dave DeVille, and Tim Kulig. Engineering production and sound design by Trevor Shand. The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is created and curated by Trevor and Lauren Shand. Theme music by the Newton Brothers. Follow us on Instagram and Twitter at Antiquarium Pod. Call the Antiquarium at 646-481-7197.