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incidentreport31 · 3 years

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Episode Three: Gather raw meat of any kind, red preferred, human is fine TRANSCRIPT

(You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts.)

Recorder clicks on.

SFX: papers shuffling as Val decides on an account to focus on for the day.

ARCHIVIST:

(humming Under My Skin by Jukebox the Ghost for a few moments as they decide) Which one for today, then? Christ, this place is a mess.

[they stop as they pick up one covered in grime]

ARCHIVIST CONT.:

What in god’s name? What’s all over this one… (they scoff) Great, Val. You’re asking the damn recorder questions now.

[beat, then to the recorder]

Although I suppose you’re good enough company even if you can’t answer… (fondly) aren’t you?

[an awkward beat, a little too long]

(they clear their throat) I suppose I’ll be getting this one over with…

[SFX: shuffle of paper as they pick it up]

Certainly seems the most interesting given the…

[SFX: another shuffle as they flip it back and forth and take it in]

-residue… on it. (they sniff) God, the smell of it. Almost like rotten meat.

(they shudder)

(sighing) Right. Best get right into it… (muttering) it’ll be over sooner.

For the consideration of their parents: Bryn Fischer’s retelling of their time traveling alongside their road bike expedition through Massachusetts and- Dear Lord- a - what does this mean- a… a meat rain? (they sigh, exasperated) Yes, a “meat rain” that they came upon while driving.It seems Mx. Fischer is requesting their parents to pay fully for their next vacation… I’ve said it before, but (sighs) Rich People. Surprisingly, though, this account does seem to have a date written in: July 21, 2001. Regardless of my disbelief in the fact that the previous Archivist finally did something competent, their account begins as such:

[ACCOUNT STARTS]

I used to drive support for my parents’ long distance bike rides. They used to go out for anywhere from 90 to 200 miles a day with only a few stops in small towns where they could meet me at the car and grab new waters before heading right back out. They’re big bike geeks and I was the one person they’d always had at their disposal for the longer trips. Once I turned sixteen and properly had a driver’s license, it seemed to occur to them that they didn’t really have to ask their other long-distance riding friends to drive alongside them. Instead, they turned to me to make sure they were safe and sound on their excursions. Which was honestly fine for a while! I mean, when I’d first gotten the freedom of driving, it felt like such a treat to go on these trips and be able to just drive for hours and hours with someone else paying for my gas. And beyond that, it was nice to see everything out on the roads. I always found something good on those days where my parents were tirelessly trekking across the state highways. I loved seeing things I’d never seen before, whether it was the weird trinkets at rest stops or patches of snow hiding under dense forests I’d never seen before. I loved the exploring of it, but if I’m being honest, the thing that really amazed me was my parents. The dedication it took to willingly submit yourself to that much physical exertion with nothing but the few waters they could carry on their bikes between our meeting spots… Well it wasn’t something they’d passed down to me, that’s for sure.

[beat]

But, that’s all to say that after a while of driving for them, it eventually lost its charm. They eventually found a route they loved above all others and decided that they were going to make it their annual ride. As I’m sure you can tell, the whole “seeing new places and exploring” thing went away pretty quickly a few trips in. I was a stupid teenager, you know, and started griping about it to them two years in when they decided the perfect time for their next ride was over the weekend that my eighteenth birthday fell on.

ARCHIVIST:

Sometimes, Bryn, parents don’t have an ounce of self-awareness, I’ll give you that much, but this is getting past the point of exposition and I’d suggest you get to the point lest you sound like a writer who got to write in more background details than usual because this is a two-part episode.

[ACCOUNT]

After that, well I decided they could get their friends who actually gave a damn to go along with them. And even then, I was going away to college in Boston soon, so they’d have to stop relying on me eventually, so it was as good a time as any.

[beat]

Well, that’s my rambling exposition for you, I suppose.

ARCHIVIST:

Thank God.

[ACCOUNT]

But of course, by my sophomore year in university I was growing away from my parents and our calls had become less frequent. As much as I hated to admit it, I missed them. So when they called me and briefly mentioned they’d tired of their old route and would be taking on a new ride that summer, namely one that would loop right by me in Boston, I jumped at the chance, telling them to please not bother any of their friends with the trouble of driving and to let me come along. They were thrilled, of course. It had been a while since I’d willingly gone with them on their trips and they agreed without a second thought, inviting me to stay at their hotel with them like old times. I’ll spare you the details of the trip as a whole, I suppose. It was 119 miles along Wachusett mountain and there was a lot to look at. I mean I could go on and on about the sights I saw and the nostalgia that bloomed in my chest when I remembered the first few drives I’d taken with them.

ARCHIVIST:

(mocking) Heaven forbid you go on a tangent.

[ACCOUNT]

The important thing is the fact that, although I was so sure I’d checked all the maintenance lights off beforehand, by some twisted turn of fate, the lights on my dashboard flicked off, and stopped functioning altogether. It would have been fine, I mean it was in broad daylight still, but without a working speedometer, I was screwed. Now, my first thought was rage, of course, quickly followed by worry about my parents. I was lucky enough to have broken down where there was still cell service and to have my father pick up when I called, the two of them having momentarily paused to sight see. He assured me that it was okay. They’d be riding through where my car had stopped in about an hour and would be able to refuel their waters and snacks, but that they were going strong and should be fine to continue the ride. He told me just to call Triple A and make sure to get myself back to the hotel we were staying at safely and to leave the waters and things by a tree if by some miracle my car was fixed before they got to me. I tried to stay calm and called for the repair guy, who informed me he wouldn’t be there for about an hour and a half which was… just perfect.

ARCHIVIST:

Now I genuinely cannot tell if this is sarcasm or not as it’s written down so it’s anyone’s guess really.

[ACCOUNT]

I thought for a while and decided it would be fine if I walked around the nearby woods for a little while. Like I said, I really did love the exploring aspects of these trips and I figured that if I would be stuck here for a while, I might as well make the most of it as long as I kept my phone on me and kept track of the time. And honestly? It was some of the best fun I’d had in a while. Staying in the city for college had put my love of nature on hold indefinitely and I was happy to have it, even if for a short time. After a little while of walking around, I found this nice secluded area right on the edge of an open field and took a seat within a bush where the branches grew haphazardly enough that there was a decent sized hollow space for me to rest. I closed my eyes, just enjoying the moment in spite of my circumstances.

[beat]

SFX: Eerie music begins playing.

And… that’s when I heard it. There was this slight whooshing noise followed up by a few wet squelching sounds as whatever seemed to have fallen bounced once or twice along the damp earth.

My eyes snapped open, but as I scanned the forest floor, nothing immediately caught my attention. Everything seemed normal. And then as I was staring open-eyed at the field in front of me, it seemed as though the sky opened up. But… not with rain. Instead of water, there were fleshy colored chunks of all sizes just plummeting down from the sky into the field. They flopped as they hit the ground in a way that was both comical and simultaneously made me afraid I was going to lose the continental breakfast I’d had at the hotel just a few hours earlier. And that’s before I even noticed the smell. In the end, that’s what really made me realize what I was looking at. The smell that permeated the air as the shower continued suddenly clicked in my brain: rotten meat. There was nothing else that could smell so repulsive and sickly as the mass of meat chunks that had begun to collect on the field before me.

[RECORD SCRATCH]

ARCHIVIST:

What.

[beat]

[ANOTHER BEAT]

(they clear their throat) Right.(somewhat shakily) Moving on then.

[ACCOUNT]

By now, I was holding my hands clasped to my mouth, trying not to panic and furthermore hoping that the meat shower would stay central to that one area. Honestly I didn’t know if I would be able to handle any of it coming near me and I was thankful for every second it didn’t. It went on like that for several minutes through which I finally resolved to keep my eyes firmly shut.

[beat]

And then all of a sudden, the wet flopping sound ceased. For a moment, I could almost believe I imagined it, with my eyelids still pressed together. And yet, the smell still hung in the air. I slowly opened my eyes, hoping not to see what I deep down knew I would. What had once been a gorgeous fertile field full of lush grass and the types of wildflowers that would have been classified as weeds by those without any sense-

ARCHIVIST:

You mean botanists who likely have PHD’s? Hmm. I see.

[ACCOUNT]

Well, it had been turned into a literal hellscape. Not only was the meat layered on itself in clumps of already rotting material slowly heating up in the mid-day sun- which yes is as nasty as it sounds- but even the areas where the meat hadn’t settled were covered in that kind of slimy residue that comes off when you pat pre-packaged meats dry before you cook them. Pretty awful in every sense of the word.

[beat]

I sat on the ground for a few more minutes hidden safely within my bush before I realized that it had probably been about forty-five minutes since I called the Triple A man and figured now was a good a time as any to try getting back to my car, especially since I wasn’t keen to get caught up in any second round of meat rain.

SFX: Eerie music starts playing.

Unfortunately for me, the moment I decided this was exactly the moment the man and little girl walked out into the field. They came in from exactly the opposite side from where I was attempting to stand up, so of course they saw the bush shudder even with the cover it gave me. I hoped against everything that they would pass it off as an animal, perhaps drawn towards the display looking for dinner, and it seemed that, even standing up as I was, I was lucky enough to scrape by on that front.

I guess you’ll be wanting a description of them, yeah? The man was a little older, maybe in his late thirties and seemed positively pleased to be walking through the field of gristle and gore. At the very least, his smile beamed as he passed his eyes back and forth across the field. The girl next to him seemed to be so young, a toddler: maybe five at the oldest? I don’t know, I’ve never been good at discerning children’s ages. But young as she was, she didn’t seem put off by the scene around her in the slightest, skipping along next to the man with her hand swinging along in his.

I wish I knew what happened next. You ever have one of those moments where you suddenly realize you’ve been holding your breath? That’s the only thing I can chalk it up to I guess. Maybe it was the terrifying notion of them noticing me any further, a freeze fear response, or just subconsciously trying to keep the smell out of my nostrils, but no matter the reason, I realized I hadn’t taken a breath in far too long a few moments too late and I fell forward into the bush.

[beat]

Loudly. Loud enough that when I came to my senses a second or two later, halfway fallen out of the bush where they could see me clear as day, I could see both of them staring at me with their heads cocked to the side. As frightened as I was, though, I remember clearly that the two of them shared the same calm, kind face, the pleasant demeanor dimmed only by their surroundings. And then, with my head still cloudy, I heard him call out to me.

“Are you alright over there?” And that was the moment I knew that-

[SFX: paper being turned over frantically and then a beat]

ARCHIVIST:

(frustrated) Hm. It seems that the account ends there if I’m not mistaken. Though it seems the story does not. I suppose maybe there’s another sheet around here with the rest of the story, although how I’m going to find it in this mess I can only guess. (muttering) Guess I’ll just have to keep a look out for another paper coated in this grime, which I am now unfortunately being led to believe is meat… juice.

Either way, I’m afraid that with the few details I’ve been given so far I cannot confirm anything about this case one way or another. I would love to dismiss it right off the bat and write off the… grime on this paper as a practical joke, but until further research is done or I get a hold of the rest of this story, I’m afraid I can do no such thing. (a long, drawn out sigh)

[SFX: the listeners become aware of the sound of a camcorder whirring at some point in this closing as Chris approaches]

[As Chris begins, the Archivist yelps in surprise, maybe a little desk clatter]

CHRIS:

Do you think you could do another take real quick? Maybe up the acting a bit during the meat rain, really sell the emotion?

ARCHIVIST:

Bloody hell—who are you?

CHRIS:

Oh, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.(then, trying to be cryptic, but she’s too over-the-top for it to be scary) Or did I?

ARCHIVIST:

(confused) You—how long have you been in here?

CHRIS:

Uh. The whole time? I thought you’d say something to me eventually, but you were really lost in the sauce there for a bit.(trying to be funny) Or, lost in the meat juice, I guess. (she giggles at her own joke.)

ARCHIVIST:

Well, my sincerest apologies, but you weren’t supposed to be in here in the first place. Who are you? Is—is that a camera?

CHRIS:

Oh, I’m Christine Lewis, one of the researchers!

[Val tries to speak, but Chris cuts them off.]

CHRIS:

Just Chris is fine. Anyways, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to get some footage for my channel.

ARCHIVIST:

(slowly) Your...channel…

CHRIS:

(she hums.) I’m kind of going for like, a Buzzfeed Unsolved type vibe, you know?

ARCHIVIST:

I’m afraid I don’t know what that is.

CHRIS:

Damn. No culture in these archives. Maybe if you stanned Ryan Bergara, this never would have happened.

ARCHIVIST:

Look, Chris, as...flattered...as I am to be the subject of your web series, I don’t appreciate being recorded without my knowledge. At least I have control over when this girl here turns on and off.

CHRIS:

Did you just call the tape recorder a girl…?

ARCHIVIST:

(overlapping) Not the point. Could you please get back to doing your job, and save the videos for when you’re not at work?

CHRIS:

If you insist. It’s gonna be worth it, though. You’ll get a shoutout in my one million subscribers video, just you wait.(mumbles). Just gotta get to ten subscribers first. Maybe if I was more active on Twitter. Say, do you think we could make an account for the [REDACTED] Institute?

ARCHIVIST:

(they are at their limit) Chris?

CHRIS:

Yeah, boss?

ARCHIVIST:

Get back to work before I tell HR to write this up.

CHRIS:

Yeah, yeah, I’m going.

SFX: Chris begins to walk off.

ARCHIVIST:

(they huff a sigh.) End recording.

Recorder clicks off.

CREDITS:

Incident Report Number 31 is a podcast made by Three-Eyed Frog Presents. This episode, “Gather raw meat of any kind, red preferred, human is fine,” was written, directed, and produced by Val West and Luka Miller with sound design by Luka Miller. This episode featured Val West as the Archivist and Jesse Smith as Chris Lewis. Music is produced by Luka Miller. To keep up with the show and find transcripts, make sure to follow us on our Twitter at @IR31Pod and on tumblr at @IncidentReport31. To contact us with any questions or concerns, feel free to email us at [email protected]. Thanks for listening.

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