Vending Machine Airwaves: Recent Episodes
NauticalGoat
Are you ready to have fun?
It is 2:23am. The 28th of August. Transcript too long to put in the description, we will upload it to another site soon.
I just wanted a peaceful night.
Transcript:
It’s 2:47 am. The 1st of August. You might be wondering how I got here, atop my shed roof.
A few hours ago I had been drawn into the yard feeling like I needed to watch the stars. It was a nice break from the 4 walls I had been looking at for the past couple weeks, even though the sky was never quite right when I did look at it.
Luckily tonight, it was a normal stary sky, just how it was supposed to look like, like the ones I saw in books or movies. Tonight, it wasn’t empty, it wasn’t following me, it wasn’t another roadway. Tonight, it was just bright dots, some twinkling, some faint.
As I sat down on the grass, soaking in the wet night dew, I laid back knowing that tonight was going to be different. It was going to be Peaceful, even.
Boy was I wrong.
An hour went by watching the stars trail across the sky, minding their own business, existing where they should be.
Then one of the stars grew.
I tried to ignore it. To hold onto one more night of calm.
But it just kept getting bigger.
Then from somewhere near the end of the yard came some rustling.
I sat up just high enough to look past my feet to see a skunk wedge it’s way under the fence.
Only that’s what I wanted to see.
Instead, I saw the fence bend around the creature.
It was a skunk, it had to be! Except that it definitely wasn’t. It was just, off.
Its legs were longer but it stood the same height. Its stripe vibrated left and right ever so slightly. Their eyes glowed and shawn cones of cyan light onto the ground. Its fur was deep like the darkness of a cave.
It wandered up the garden, stopping to chomp on a leaf.
It looked over to me paralyzed in the grass.
I swear it shrugged.
The thing wandered farther up the yard.
Loosening up from my frozen state, I slowly rose to my feet.
It gave no care until I took my first step.
It snapped it’s head to my position, drowning me in light.
The Skonk looked away again. I took another step. Again, it snapped back with an unsettling precision.
We played this game of Wax Museum for longer than I wanted but at least the fae didn’t hit me with whatever their defence weapon is.
I made my way over to a ladder, out of view of the creature, and climbed up to the roof of my shed.
At this point, the Skonk stared up at me, casting it’s glow. And that’s where it stopped. And that’s where I’ve stopped too.
I pry my eyes away from the gaze of the creature to take another look at the star that got too big. I could make the details out now. The solar flares looked close enough to hit the earth.
I glanced back down at the Skonk. It too was entranced by the growing star.
Now I could feel the heat from this celestial body on my skin at the same time the creature returned eye-contact.
A final glance back to the sky revealed that the star was no more and the heat disappeared into a cool breeze.
It hasn’t blinked.
My only hope is that the sun rises soon.
Don't wait at the bus stop if you aren't prepared.
Transcript:
It’s 3:06 am. The 18th of July. I wish the sky did something I was used to. Tonight, the sky is filled with the crumbling parking lot of a Sears department store.
I check my watch to confirm that the bus is now 7 minutes late. My Phone died 18 minutes ago at 58% so I can’t even use that to distract me from the person sitting on the bench next to me.
I’ve never seen them before but I know I remember them.
With no sign of a bus and the silence building up, the stranger turned to me. They were as regular as humanly possible. Mid-length brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, shallow features, a generic band t-shirt and jean shorts.
When they spoke, I swear I could hear their voice coming from every direction. Their words rolled off their tongue like honey, sweet and ensnaring.
“Hey [REDACTED], I couldn’t help but notice, was that a faint look of a memory in your eyes?”
“H-how did you know my name? W-what are you talking about??”
Now they looked longer than before. Limbs stretched out beside them. Their hands didn’t have enough fingers and they were clenched tight. There was no chin that defined them, now their nose took that role.
“That’s not important. Keeping up your end of the deal is.”
If I could’ve responded, I would have. But whatever it was that took up the seat beside me was now holding my mouth. I felt for my face to find nothing below the nose. Not even a hollow space behind the skin. Just one continuous skull bone.
“We can’t have people like you remembering everything. It would be too soon.”
The memories come back in fragments.
This bus stop.
This creature.
Glowing eyes?
A hand shake? But that wasn’t a hand I was grasping, whatever was on the end of that arm was not fing-
“You weren’t supposed to remember who I was. Now look what you’ve done. I almost feel bad about this.”
I check my phone as the bus pulls up. 57% charge, the time read 3:04am.
Finally, only 5 minutes late.
The Bus driver looks past me at the empty bus stop to check for any other passengers only to quickly shut the door behind me as my foot barely makes it past the threshold.
He saw the startled expression on my face and I saw his but he tried to cover it insisting that he only wanted to keep the bugs out.
C02
$2.25
This is Vending Machine Airwaves.
You are not alone. According to our records. You never will be.
Find out more at nauticalgoat.ca/vma.
Subscribe via your favourite podcasting app.
A good boy.
It’s 2:36 am. The 10th of July.
There aren’t enough stars in the sky tonight. It’s a clear night, no clouds, not even a breeze. The only stars I can see arc in a line across the void, like the seam of one of those toy capsules. I find myself facing a path of trees that quickly open into a field of untrimmed grass. As I walk down the path, the edges of the field go past what I can see in the 3 directions in front of me. One line of telephone cables runs through the vast openness. To my left there’s a picnic table and to my right a Little Library. Being lit by the moon that appeared to be an inch closer every time I looked, I opened the door to the box and found an old note. It smelt like a fairly aged book, like carpet and leather, but had no indication that it had ever been bound. The paper read only 2 lines of text.
“He likes head pats. And can run farther than you can throw.” I looked back the way I came to find that now, it was just more open fields.
No trail.
No car.
No road home.
I walked over to the table and took a heavy seat. Resting my left arm on the tabletop, the other headed for the seat but stopped shorter than I had anticipated. Instead of feeling the slivers of wood ready to puncture if I moved across them, my hand was greeted with a wet sphere. A baseball. Partially chewed but resembling those of the 1900s brown leather. Putting the pieces together, I got up and chucked the ball a fair distance into the open plain. The sounds of heavy panting and grass rustling filled the space in front of me. Within a few seconds, the ball was back at my feet. I threw it again, aiming a little to the left. Again, back at my feet. When I threw it the 3rd time, I noticed a faint silhouette travel towards the ball and then back to me. Throwing it a few more times, each with a bit more might than the last, the shape became clearer. By the time and hour had passed, there, sitting patiently at my feet was a wispy blue Retriever with a collar that read, “To those that need me most - Echo.” I scratched behind his ears and rewarded him with a couple good head pats, each one puffing off like smoke even though I could feel a solid dog beneath my hand. Pumped up and ready to go, Echo was raring to run. Another hour passed, lobbing this ball as far I could in every direction. I was feeling it now in my shoulder but seeing the smile on this lad was all the motivation I needed to push through the pain. This time when I threw it, the ball fell into the tall grass, Echo was about halfway to it when it returned to me with the same arcing motion as it had been thrown. I caught the ball with shock as the grass indented towards me around 2 footprints instead of the 4 I was getting used too. Appearing a lot quicker than Echo did, a woman formed out of the same smoky essence.
“Thanks” she laughed “my arm was getting tired.”
“A lovely dog you’ve got there” I coughed thinking about the rest of my life, and maybe more, being filled with dog talk.
“He’s quite the champ. Helped a lot of people in his life and then next” she said while rubbing his belly.
“I really didn’t know what to expect after I read your note, but this was a nice treat. And besides, if I’m here forever,” looking past the box and table, the path of trees was there again. “I- uhh, might as well have some fun. Uhh, when did th- It was there the whole time. You just didn’t seem to need it yet. A good workout with Echo tends to take people’s minds off whatever is chasing them-Oh-It was nice to see another smiling face. Comeback anytime, it doesn’t work here anyways-Uh, thanks. Can I throw the ball one more time?
With a grin on her face, she hands me the ball. Giving a good shake, I hurl the ball past the telephone poll with Echo dashing behind.
Heading back to my car, I look back to see her waving while echo drops the ball at her feet and barks. They wisp away as the forest closes around them returning the hiking trail to its original form...
C05
$2.40
World Famous Pie. Famous Pie. Pie.
Your weekly liminal messages.
Find out more at nauticalgoat.ca/vma
Transcript:
It is 3:14 am. The 25th of June. I pulled off the road into one of those truck-stop restaurant diners. As I got out of my car, the neon fresh pie sign lit up my face, drawing me like a moth to a flame.
There were 2 other cars in the parking lot.
When I looked into the diner it was full. Rowdy children and stressed parents, well-managed staff on roller skates and what I would presume to be regulars sitting at the counter. An odd sight for this hour of the morning.
I opened the first door and a wave of fresh pancakes, warm coffee and sweet pastries bombarded my senses.
Becoming more eager for this much needed refreshment from the dreary drive, I opened the second door.
Now, there was only one man sitting at the counter. Hunched over his coffee. The lights had dimmed and the pie sign flickered. A thick layer of dust sat on every surface, except for the seat beside the man who was also covered in dust.
Without looking up, he gestured for me to sit.
I sat.
He looked into his coffee which had gone a grey colour from the dust mixed into it.
“Welcome,” His voice was gruff and dry.
Before I could reply, he said “World famous pie, don’t forget to tip.”
I felt heavier now, grasped by the seat.
For the first time, the man looked up, contently smiled and said “Thanks.”
He slid over his cup. It fit well in my hand.
He crumbled to dust.
I jumped up startled only to find I hadn’t moved at all. The cup, heavy like concrete, held my hand in place.
I couldn’t move.
I didn’t want to move.
The clock-radio blinked and blinked. Morse code.
[Morse code plays]
Y O U R T U R N Your Turn.
I sat there for days.
Days turned into weeks.
No one entered.
I never grew tired and I never slept.
The dust piled on me. My mouth dry, not able to utter cries for help, not like that would have worked.
After 4 months of sitting beside a pile of dust, myself also coated with a thick layer of grey, I woke up.
Laying prone behind the right rear tire of my car, I sat up. Coughed up a handful of dust and opened the driver’s door. A cloud of fine particles puffed as this happened. When it settled I noticed the car was covered just as I had been.
Wiping off the seat, I climbed in and checked my phone.
It was 3:19 am, the 25th of June.
I lowered all the windows and pulled away from the diner which was completely dark and empty, not a car in sight.
As I sped off back onto the highway,
The pie sign flickered back on.
C12
$2.00
This is Vending Machine Airwaves.
You are not alone. According to our records. You never will be.
Find out more at nauticalgoat.ca/vma.
Subscribe via your favourite podcasting app.
This is the Pilot.
This is the start of something new. Something familiar. Something.
Find out more at https://nauticalgoat.ca/vma
Transcript:
It’s 2:40am. The 12th of June. The starry sky has a few more lights in it tonight. I was one of those stars. Flying through the night sky in my prop plane, I noticed one star that really shouldn’t have been there.
It moved along the sky with me as I cut through the crisp air.
I lost track of it a few times but it never left my mind. Hours went by like minutes. The fuel gauge never waivered.
The star waivered instead.
The star fell.
My plane fell.
I continued on my flight plan.
The sky was empty, a black void that filled my view.
Blink. Mid after-noon. East-Coast.
Blink. Void.
Blink. Dawn. Prairies.
Blink. Void.
Blink. 10 minutes after sundown. Southern lakes.
Blink. Void.
Blink. Golden Hour. Rockies.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
My plane is back. The star is not.
I am not the Pilot.
C32
$3.75
This is Vending Machine Airwaves.
You are not alone. According to our records. You never will be.
Find out more at nauticalgoat.ca/vma.
Subscribe via your favourite podcasting app.