The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 054 : Baby Food

Episode Date: August 19, 2024

**Unsought Goods; https://theantiquarium.myshopify.com/**Babbel: Here's a special, (limited time) deal for our listeners. Right now get 50% off a one-time payment for a lifetime Babbel subscription - but only for our listeners - https://www.babbel.com/sinisterA father records an audio journal of the zombie apocalypseWritten by Rees SavidisStarring Conan Freeman as ElmoreEverett Shand as RobbieRomy Evans as PaulineJay Hicks as MyronTrevor Shand as CharlieDee Quintero as the radio voiceFeaturing Stephen Knowles as The Antique DealerTheme music by The Newton BrothersAdditional music byConan FreemanCO.AG ([e-mail])Additional sfx by Lara's Horror Sounds Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

R equals T. Is that who I think it is? Well, I'll be darned. Thrilled you could make it by. Good thing, too. Was going around in the inventory and found something I think you'll like. A cassette recorder. An Olympus Pearl Quarter 100, to be exact.

Records on micro-cassette. In fact, there's still one inside. Oh, the uh, shoelace tied to the thing. Yeah, don't mind that. All will be revealed in due time. For now, how about you take a listen to this one called Baby Food? Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk.

These are some of the members of the inner circle of the antiquarium. We go by the Obsidian Covenant. Recent initiates include the wonderfully kind, Nicole Wartooth. Jamie is Sharp. Jerica Rhodobaw. Cairo. The Kay Identity. Deadly Nightshade.

Guganot. Mask. Andrew Pear. And more cooks. We are ever appreciative of your devotion to. the order. Go to the obsidiancovenant.com to receive the sacrament. Now, where were we?

Oh yes. Welcome to the antiquarium of sinister happenings and odd goings on. Insighting incident. That's what we call it in the storytelling game. The event or decision that begins a story's problem. Everything that happens up to that moment is backstory, everything after is the story, which we'll get into. So, here it goes. You ready?

The bodies of the recently deceased are returning to life and attacking the living. The down-home colloquialisms are as colorful as they are endless. Zeeks, geeks, walkers, stenches, fuck faces. Pussed brain bags of shit. The same thing. Zombies. I don't even know who will hear this.

I guess someone will find maybe a hundred years. And if you are listening, then you know what I'm saying is true. SARS. Swine flu. Zombies. What little backstory I have, I've managed to piece together

from talking to others I've met on the road. How much of it is true? I can't say But in a world where zombies are Actually a thing I've got to say I believe just about everything I hear now You got a bridge you want to sell me

Great Where do I sign So the backstory is A lab tech researching a new strain of necrotizing fasciitis That's flesh-eating bacteria In the event there's no more internet by the time you hear this. Working at a CDC quarantine station outside Seattle,

unknowingly got himself infected with said horrible shit. He went home. He kissed his wife and kids. He pet the dog. He felt sick. He went to bed. He died overnight. He came back to life the next morning and ate his wife and kids for breakfast.

The dog escaped. lab tech guy then went out and bid or eight, depending on who you believed at the time, his way through half his neighborhood before he was shot and killed by some good old boy taking his Second Amendment riots up for a morning walk. The initial reports that circulated believed that the man had suffered a psychotic episode. One guy I talked to in Whitefish, Montana said that folks around there heard it was the Work of Islamic extremist poisoning the drinking water. But then, I was in Whitefish, Montana.

Then the others started coming back. The ones he'd been in eaten. His wife and kids. The little neighbor boy. The guy across the street who's borrowed lawnmower he still had stashed in his garage. They all sat up straight as Sunday services and started walking again. That's when the reports changed. That's when it's hard to believe, but began to proceed every newscast.

Except in Whitefish, Montana, where they probably still think it's terrorists. It's hard to get most people to agree on anything. Especially something as unbelievable as this, but one thing no one disagrees with. no matter their belief in the what or where or when is how fast it happens. By all accounts from the time Labtech guy sank his teeth into Miss Labtech Guy and Labtech Jr. Until the last of the neighborhood victims sat up, less than an hour had gone by. One hour, 60 minutes. The entire world started to come undone in the time it takes to watch an episode of scandal.

If you didn't DVR it and lean on the fast forward button to blow through the commercials. Insiding incident, check. Backstory? Check. So, let's see. Where do I begin the story? My name is Elmore Pretty, and I'm probably dead. or rather I'm probably one of the undead. That's one of the reasons I'm recording this diary. For posterity, I'm also recording it for my daughter Selwyn, because the world that she'll inherit will look a lot different than what we had before.

In a way, I also think talking about things helps me deal with what's happening. Not to rationalize it, of course. You can't rationalize the dead coming back to life. You can sequelize it, but you can't rationalize it. Because as Ray Lovelock says to Christina Galbo and The Living Dead at Manchester Morg, The Dead Dome Woke Around except in very bad paperback novels. Only, now they do. Sorry, Ray.

If this were a sci-fi movie, I'd call this diary My Captain's Lock. That sounds so much cooler, but... I'm not stranded on a crippled spacecraft, drifting endlessly through the cosmos, waxing poetic on how small we are in the grand scheme of the universe. This isn't that. Instead, I'm hiding inside a dumpster in three feet of shit. A pathologist probably couldn't identify waiting for the six zombies that chased me in here to fuck off. Goddamn, no, I'm talking into a tape recorder. It's hanging from a shoelace around my neck.

I'm not crazy and I'm not delusional. And I know that chances are better than good that no one will ever hear this. Maybe not even someone. But it helps me. It helps to talk about it. That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to talk to you, dear listener, about my day, each day until they run out. My current situation?

that day could very well be today. I guess we'll just have to wait and see. If I don't make it, this will be the shortest diary ever recorded. If I do, I'll record something tomorrow and fill you in. Wish me luck. I snuck a peek and the zombies are gone. I guess the stink I was marinating in all night. I live out of the son of my yummy man flesh.

I mean, it's the hat or they got bored or weighed me. out. Either way, I'm alive. So, Yay! To commemorate the wonderful occasion of not being dead, we're going to kick this diary. You know what? Fuck it. It's a captain's log. And I'm Captain Elmore Pretty of the USS dumpster. So, we're going to kick this thing off in style

with me telling you, a little bit about myself. I'm a writer by trade, and up until the world took its big shit, I'd made a decent living working as a narrative designer for an independent video game company. But my real passion is writing books. Horror books or junk. My father's term for pretty much anything that wasn't a Clint Eastwood movie, Hockey Night Canada, or drinking beer.

As a kid, I was a special effects and splatter movie nut. When most kids had posters a Jose Konseko, Samantha Fox, or Duran Duran on their bedroom walls, mine were plastered with pull-out posters from Fancoria Magazine and newspaper clippings of movie ads from the entertainment section of the Friday paper. My heroes were gut slingers like Rob Boutin, Steve Johnson, and Tom Savini. And I was ravenous for anything and everything creepy crawly. Things coming out of crates and eating people, people turning into weeds, dead people coming back to life. And the redder, the better.

The video nasties on VHS, carefully collected and curated. I read Salem's lot when I was 10 years old and would routinely follow my mom on thrifting trips to Valley Village in search of anything. written by King, Barker, or Coons, the three wise men of horror. I was a, died in the wool horror hound man. Now it's real, and I don't want it.

When I was a kid, I used to dream about the zombie apocalypse. We all did, didn't we? What's your zombie survival plan? I remember sitting around with friends bullshit and about what each of us would do if the dead came back to life. My buddy Pete Tolan

was going to load up his dad's truck and hit the sticks, go off grid, and waded out, red dawn style. Pete didn't mention if he was going to take his dad. Fern Goyer decided he would boost

a Ferrari or a Lambo when we were 15, and drive really fucking fast to Alaska or maybe the desert. someplace with no people and lots of wide open space. My zombie survival plan was to head to the local mall. I would get the whole place locked off and then I'd go on a hunt.

I would hole up and live out the fantasy like they did in Dawn of the Dead. I didn't do that. When the zombie apocalypse crawled off the page and into real life, I just shit my pants. Lance, Selwyn and I were on our way home from a Saturday trip to Wild Waves Waterpark in Federal Way, Washington. She loves Hooks Lagoon when the first report came in. Metallica's Ride the Lightning was stuck in the CD player of my turd-brown 98 Toyota Corolla and refused to play or eject. For my Gen Alpha listeners, Bluetooth wasn't an option on turd-brown 98 Corolla's.

Oh, and CD is a compact disc capable of holding up to an hour's worth of recorded music. And now that I've said it out loud like that, it really does sound fucking antiquated. So, because of my antiquated car and its antiquated music system, I was stuck listening to the radio for the long drive back home to Vancouver while someone napped in the back seat. I still remember the afternoon drive at 5 DJ breaking in midway through REO speedwagons can't fight this feeling to announce that a suspected outbreak of rabies was sweeping across western Washington State. She said a state of emergency was in effect and people should stay inside and lock their doors. We were sitting in the border lineup and what she said next made my stomach flip.

in agreement with the Canada Border Services Agency have banned all travel between Canada and the United States. I'd stop listening. That was 18 months ago. Since then, everyone and their fucking shadow knows it wasn't rabies. And Selwyn and I have been surviving on the road just trying to get home. We made our way east into Idaho and then Montana. I thought maybe we could cross back into Canada somewhere along the way, but all the crossings, Eastport, Port Hill, and Rossville were sealed up tight.

And if the thought of schlepping it into the bush with a five-year-old had ever crossed my mind, the maga militias and the fuck Trudeau rednecks that patrolled the invisible line between our two countries convinced me otherwise. So, I just turned back around. Go west, young man. And now, here we are. in beautiful Spokane, Washington, home of the Spokane Hoop Fest, the world's largest basketball tournament, and the birthplace of Father's Day. In the before times, before the world took its big shit, I had a weird obsession with collecting obscure facts about places I'd been. Hold habits die hard, I guess.

I try not to leave our squat too often, but someone needs her food, and I thought I should probably get some more batteries for my... little tape recorder if I plan on keeping this audio log going. I found the tape recorder in a doctor's office in Idaho. I was looking for meds for Selwyn when I saw it sitting on the old sawbones desk. It's an analog deal, the kind that uses real microcassettes and alkaline batteries, which is ACEs for me because if there's one thing no one seems to want at the end of the world, no one but me and my little Pearl Quarter L-100 Olympus Microgate Recorder. It's AAA batteries.

The tapes are a little harder to come by, but luckily the good doctor had a small stash of blanks in his supply cabinet. I listened to the tape that was in the recorder when I found it. Seems the doc had a touch of old timers sitting in, so he would record little reminders of himself. 20 milligrams of Cyplex to Mrs. Spooner for her depression. 40 milligrams of oxycontin to Steve Baylor for a bum knee. 30 milligrams of tetracycline to young Ronald Sheldrake for his apocalyptic act. or terrible pizza face, as Ronald himself put it to the dock. There was even a note about Kitty Tamplin,

wanting weakly ozempic injections to help manager type 2 diabetes. Even though the doc suspected it was more about her taking easy street to a size 10 before the summer pool season kicked in. I wonder how the doc's patients would have felt if they knew their GP's cheese was starting to slide off his cracker. It had been me and Selwyn for so long. I'll admit, it was nice. hearing someone else's voice.

Even if it was just a forgetful old man listing off patient prescriptions and suspicions, I still listen to that tape from time to time. So sorry for the interruption. Elmore sure knows how to paint a picture with words. Him and Selwyn should start one of those podcasts I keep hearing about. There's a chance it could go viral. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

I don't know about you, but I am feeling rather famished myself. I'm going to grab something real quick and be right back. Leave a message. Please do so with the tone and have a great... Hi, my name's Alex. I needed to reach out. My best friend got a card game from your store, but he died a year ago. We used to have a YouTube channel reviewing board games,

but then I pushed to have it changed into a prank channel and the one prank that I pushed him to do got him shot but now I see him at the dinner table with these cards and I don't recognize the symbols or the pieces the closest I could find was this mass suicide in 1945 smiling she just said let's do a quick game

and for a while I would just go to my room and I could hear him shuffling the cards outside my door he'd knock and say come on let's do a quick game at first I would just ignore him but now when I go to sleep

I end up waking up at the table with a dealt hand each night there's less and less cards in my hand smile it makes me really afraid of what's going to happen if I lose look I know you don't

don't do returns, but if you can call me back, please, if you can just tell me the rules, maybe I have a chance. I just need to know the rules for the game and maybe I can win. I only have two cards left, so if you can just, please need to know how to play the game. Thank you kindly for your patience, friend. Now back to Elmore's dumpster and the zombie apocalypse already in progress. Even if it was just a forgetful old man listing off patient prescriptions and suspicions. I still listen to that tape from time to time. I'm called Elmore.

You're a free man. Oh, God damn. Fresher. The coast looks clear. So, I guess it's time I get to doing what needs getting done. There's a Walmart about three blocks east of here. I saw a small group of people About a dozen or so

Moving a week ago And I know they have food Walmart is one of those big centers That used to sell meat and produce Along with the usual shit This one even has a subway and a regal nails I wonder if Kitty Tamplin Came here for her monthly manny-petti

Our Walmart back home didn't have Aregal nails or anything like that But it did have A McDix which, if you saw me back then, you'd know, was both a blessing and a curse thing for... It's suicide going in through the front of the store. I'll go in through the nail place.

I can pretty much guarantee I won't get any static in there, and it'll let me get a view of what things look like inside. All right, here I go. This place is huge. The group squad in here is set up in the back of the store, so there's lots of room for... me to move around. Still, I have to be... I managed to find a choice pair of beaver canoe sweatpants and a little stuffy for Selwyn. Now I just need to find her food and I can split. Need rows,

rolled up sleeping bags, folded tarps, bundled X flashlights, and a few rifles ranked against a dozen stack cases of spam. Why would they lay out all the gear like... I see. He had the start at Raiders of the lost arc. Come on. There's no danger here. And then, you take a poison dart to the neck.

This group is better organized than most I've seen. You're that shit. I'm just here for the food. I'm outside again. The honeypot wasn't a trap. It was a diversion. They wanted whoever came snooping around the place to go for it and leave. Just ignore everything else and go away.

They were protecting the food. I grabbed what I could, But they were on me, man. Shit! These guys aren't fucking around. I'll update again when I'm safe. One of them tagged me. Looks like a 308 maybe?

Went right through my leg. Fuck me. That's a big hole. God damn it. It busted my femur. Or tibia? Or whatever the big one's called. It missed my femoral artery, though.

I think. How do you even tell that? I'm getting a little light in the noodle. I need a turn again. Oh, fuck! Hey, what are you doing? Where's my dad? Morning, little cheerio.

If you make another sound, I'll cut your throat and leave you here to die. You understand me? Good. Let's go. Get off your ass. Move. My blood. I'm so dizzy.

My leg, the way it is. It's recording for a while. Someone isn't safe. That leg is messy. Looks like I got you pretty good, doesn't it, huh? Are you hearing me, man? Ease up on him. My name's Pauline.

What's yours? Please. Someone. My daughter, daughter, she's sick. Aw, that's something I don't give half a fuck about. Tell me why you took Charlie's boy. Yeah, you some kind of pito fuck. Myron, I'm talking to the man.

Careful, Pauline. He's going for his pet. Listen to me. You, uh, you want to be very mindful of how you play the next few minutes of your short life because... Um, Pauline. What, Charlie? There's something moving in his back. Maron. Dump it out.

Jesus fucking Christ! That's a kid's hand! Jesus God! That's a kid's fucking hand, man! This asshole is bent! It's moving. How come it's moving? It's one of them.

That's how come. Don't brown your pants, Charlie Cooper. Me? You're the one hollering. Hope that you shut up. Lisa. Don't hurt her. Don't hurt her.

That's your little girl? What's left of her, it looks like. That's why you snatched Robbie. You're looking for a trade-up. Kids don't get no warranty, you know. What's dead is dead. No. That isn't it at all.

He was going to feed her. Robbie was going to be her food. Am I right? He wouldn't have suffered. Robbie. pick that head up and be careful take it by the hair

Don't you touch her Selling Honey It's daddy He's fucking talking to it There ain't nothing in that hair pal Except mashed potatoes Please

Please I'm sorry She was just hungry You're talking into my deaf ear Go ahead, Robbie. Robbie, leave, just leave it. Come on, Pauline.

Can we just put him down and be done with it? You know, that's not how we do things. But this is not right. You're going soft in the attic, Charlie. This man was going to feed your boy to that thing, probably in small, easy to chew pieces. Do you really think he deserves the kindness of a bullet? Well

Do like Pauline says, son It's squirmy Damn it Do what you're told Let's get little Selman Fad, shall we? Robbie, bring her ear Now, I want you to hold her close to his throat Okay?

Come on Closer That's it A little closer Keep her still And let her take her take a nice face.

You don't think of me, girl. Please. Can we go home now? 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. If you've got an artifact with mysterious properties, perhaps it's accompanied by a history of bizarre and disturbing circumstances.

Maybe you'd be interested in dropping it and its story by the shop to share with other customers. Please reach out to Antiquarium Shop at gmail.com. A member of our team will be in touch. Till next time, we'll be waiting for you 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. The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings, Lot 054, Baby Food, written by Reese Savitas. starring Conan Freeman as Elmore.

Everett Shand as Robbie. Romie Evans as Pauline. Jay Hicks as Myron. Trevor Shand as Charlie. De Quintero as the radio voice. Featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer. Engineering production and sound design by Trevor Shand. Theme music by the Newton Brothers.

Additional music by Conan Freeman and Coag. The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is created and curated by Trevor and Lauren Shand. Follow us on Instagram and Twitter at Antiquarium Pod. Call the Antiquarium at 646-481-7197.