JOHN PETERS:

Hell hath no fury like a farmer’s corn.

Welcome to The John Peters Imaginary Corn Maze Experience.

Hey and howdy, folks! It’s John Peters, you know, the farmer? First off, I wanna thank Cecil for letting me take over the show today. Well, he didn’t “let me” per se, but he’s not real available right now and that’s kinda my fault, more or less. Don’t worry, he’s totally fine. But let’s just say I thought it’d be honorable-like to step in for him, given my responsibility for him bein’, well, missing, so to speak. He’s fine! More on that later.

Anyway, taking over the show also gives me the opportunity to bring to you, the listeners, the virtual experience of a lifetime! As you may know, I’ve been the leading farmer of imaginary corn for many a decade now. And I’ll be beaver-dammed if every single one of them years, folks didn’t come up to me and say, “Hey John Peters, how about doin’ a corn maze this year? Everyone loves a corn maze! The runnin’ around and the laughin’ and the bugs in your hair and the zombies poppin’ out atcha, tryna get your brain-meat. The cider swillin’ and the banjo playin’ and the sacrifices to the minotaur at the center of the maze to appease the harvest gods. The pettin’ zoo and the pumpkin patch and the jack o’lantern patch and the accidental bonfire in the field next to the jack o'lantern patch and the fire trucks and the big water hoses and the mud and the mud wrasslin’. Everyone loves a corn maze, John Peters!” they’d holler at me in the streets.

And I’d always say the same thing to ‘em:

I do not have the time to imagine all them things!

I already use up every last morsel of my own brain-meat to imagine the region’s number one agricultural export—and by the time harvest season rolls around, I’m plumb tuckered!

But what do you think happened this year? The Flakey-Os factory fell on hard times. Had to cut way back on their imaginary corn supply. The Green Market Co-Op, one of my main distributors, shuttered their doors after their kombucha was found to contain 80-proof grain alcohol. Route 800 kept gettin’ buried in sand drifts, and all them farm trucks was re-routed through a whole ‘nother state. And old John Peters suddenly had a whole lotta time on his hands. And a whole lotta imaginary corn! Instead of focusing on my crops so much, I found myself making multi-generational clans of scarecrows and play-actin’ dramatic epics with ‘em out in the fields.

Pretty soon, I started to hear all them voices from the past, some of which I hadn’t heard since I was a young man, whispering through my corn stalks. They were sayin’ things like, “Hey John Peters, why dontcha build us an absolutely inescapable corn maze this year? Why dontcha shear your imaginary crop into a maddening puzzle of twists and turns that reduces even the bravest soul to tears of frustration? Why dontcha inflict upon us a geometric hell of vegetation that makes us call upon a higher power for mercy? (beat) If you build it…they will scream.”

And after all these years, I finally listened.

“It’s time to give the people what they want,” I said right then and there to the Baroness Mathilda (pronounce the soft “th”) Hayworth, eldest daughter of the Hayworth clan, on the eve of her wedding to the neighboring scarecrow tribe’s Archduke Lamont Stuffington.

“Yessss,” the Baroness hissed back at me. “It is time, John Peters.”

Now she might’ve been referring to the espionage mission she was about to undertake with her sham wedding to overthrow the Stuffington territory. But either way, I left the Hayworths and the Stuffingtons to fight it out on their own, and I got right to work planning the biggest, best, wildest imaginary corn maze anyone’s ever done did! But I know some of you can’t make it out to my field in person, so I’m also gonna bring it straight to you, over the radio, right here, right now.

But before we get to that, I’m gonna go ahead and read some of the things from Cecil’s desk here that I’m guessin’ are supposed to be on the show today.

In the headlines, (stilted, reading) it is Spirit Week at the high school.

Oh yeah, that’s when they do a buncha social studies lessons about ghost culture and history. I remember that from when I was a kid. We learned all about the major ghost holidays—like Creepsgiving—and what they like to eat—worms—and how to draw their flag—transparent. And about how people are always appropriating their traditional clothing as costumes for Halloween. Like a sheet with the eyeholes cut out of it, or zombie makeup, or an inflatable T-rex suit. And how that’s very rude and disrespectful. It was real eye-opening. Great guest speakers too! My senior year, we had Abraham Lincoln and Bob Marley and this real freaky lady who kept asking us to find her eyes. Don’t skip out, kids! Spirit Week is important stuff.

(clears throat) Now a word from our sponsors.

(stilted, reading) Today’s show is sponsored by Webb. That’s Webb with two Bs. The free app that tells you how many spiders are in your house right now. The premium version tells you exactly where the spiders are located. From the bathtub drain to the coffee pot to in your hair, Webb Premium can pinpoint arachnid activity with a hundred percent accuracy. Use promo code RECLUSE for $50 off your first month.

Okay, I think that takes care of the radio station housekeepin’.

I’m gonna need all you listeners at home to sign a waiver before we go any further. Just basically says if you don’t make it outta my corn maze, that’s on you, buckeroo! So for everyone who wants to do the maze, please take a moment to close your peepers and imagine that waiver and then think real hard about your signature. And for those of you who’d just as soon eat beans, turn off your radio and go eat beans, friend.

[Pause]

If you’re still listening, that means you have officially agreed to enter at your own extreme peril. We are now crossing the threshold of time and space into the John Peters Imaginary Corn Maze Experience and Field of Harrowing Specters.

This journey, like so many journeys, begins with a hot, dry wind a-rattlin’ through a sea of dead cornstalks. You don’t remember entering this maze. But here you are, surrounded by corn.

Wait a dang minute, you think to yourself. This is supposed to be a maze, but I don’t see any path at all, let alone different paths to choose from. What kinda maze is this anyhow?

But guess what! Three pathways suddenly appear around you.

The one ahead of you is so straight and long that it disappears into the vanishing point on the horizon.

The one to the left flickers and changes colors like an oil slick, more like a hologram of a path than an actual path.

And the one to the right is blocked by a large man wearing a carved up melon on his head, wielding a chainsaw and howlin’ like a feral animal.

Now it’s time to make your first choice! Weigh all your options careful-like. The experience of a maze, just like life, is all about the choices you make. One wrong step can alter your reality forever. Sometimes in ghastly, unspeakable ways.

So close your eyes and think about your answer as hard as you can. To remind you, there's the hologram path....the infinitely long path...or the Melon Man. Which path will you take?

[Pause]

You chose: the Melon Man.

As you approach the Melon Man, he makes an aggressive gurgling sound. I wonder why I chose this? you think. The other two paths were definitely weird but neither of ‘em had the immediate threat of this one.

The Melon Man runs toward you with his gore-splattered chainsaw, making enraged jibber-jabber sounds, like a raccoon with distemper. As he gets closer, you can see little glimpses of his face through the hacked up melon on his head. His skin is shiny with scars and sticky with melon juice. You can see one of his eyes, just rolling around in the socket, like a raccoon with distemper. He’s foaming at the mouth, like a raccoon with distemper.

There’ll be no reasonin’ with this fella, you think.

You keep walking straight toward him though! You made this choice, and you’re stickin’ to it.

As he raises that screamin’ chainsaw inches from your face, there’s only one thing to do. Well, there’s a few things to do, but I’m sure you’ll choose the right one.

You can run past that crazy ol’ Melon Man and hide in the corn.

You can throw a rock at that there Melon Man and run off into the corn.

You can try to stop that whirrin’, rusty chainsaw blade by grabbin’ it with your own bare hands.

I’ll give you some extra time to think on this one.

[Pause]

You chose: grab the chainsaw.

Huh, okay.

As both of your hands get sheared clean off your body and go a-flyin’ into the corn field, the Melon Man chases right after ‘em, a-slobbering and a-whining, like a racoon with distemper. Human hands are his favorite food! It distracted him enough so’s you can keep goin’ ahead. Good job!

It’s gettin’ dark out now, but the Blood Weevil Reaper Moon is shining down upon you, lighting the way with its reddish, squirmy moonbeams. And look here! Another fork in the road.

One path leads to a spooky old farmhouse. The door is half-open and the inside is dark as Tár, you know, the Cate Blanchett movie? And if you listen real close, you can hear the sound of evil clown laughter coming from the classic Halloween sound effects compilation CD “Merry Christmas” by Mariah Carey.

The other path leads straight into a big ‘ol mouth lined with jagged, ancient teeth. The mouth breathes in and out with a briny dampness. It looks like some kinda sea monster, or like one of them sharks, the ones with heads that look like a hammer, I forget the proper name of ‘em.

Either way, a shark surely don’t belong in the middle of a corn field, you think. That is just plain scary!

But on the other hand, that old farmhouse is pretty scary too. Especially with them creaky door sound effects and owl hoots comin’ outta there. And wait a second…are those cobwebs hanging from the windows? Ugh!

You have to choose quick this time.

[Very fast pause]

You chose: the mouth.

Wow, really?

Before we get to that, take a minute to tie some cornsilk tourniquets around your blood-spurtin’ hand stumps there while we check the Farmer’s Almanac for the weather.

[WEATHER]

What in the all hallowed heck was I thinkin’? you think, as you step into the slimy crevice of the corn shark’s waiting mouth and its bloated tongue tosses your body straight down its contracting gullet into a burning pit of stomach acid. This is surely the worst choice I have ever made in my goll-darned life!

You might-could try to thrash around and cause the thing some indigestion so’s it’ll spit ya back out into the field…

Or you could double-down, take a deep breath, and dive even further into the excruciating pit of acid.

You chose: the acid.

As you submerge yourself fully into that liquified hellfire, the flesh practically disintegrating off your bones, you get sucked up into some kind of pneumatic tube. You know, like the ones that used to be in libraries and post offices and slaughterhouses? The kind that just (makes slurping sound) shoots things from one place to another in the blink of a snap?

Well, you done got tube-slurped and now you’re smack dab in the middle of the Northern Lithuanian mountains and it is snowing something fierce. And like I said, there’s barely any flesh left on your bones, let alone a scrap of clothing on your body.

Up ahead, there’s a cave that might provide some shelter.

Behind you floats the disembodied head of an enormous dog.

You chose: the doghead.

“Do you pledge your undying allegiance and loyalty to me, the Great Doghead of the Mountains?” the doghead asks you, providing a scroll for you to sign in your own blood.

You chose: yes.

After devoting a year of your life to the Doghead, you start to wonder what became of your family, your friends, your career. Your house, your car, your tomato plants that needed watering.

Your cat Florian. Your parakeet Skyler. Your cigar box full of old love letters. Hamburgers with pickle relish. The sun.

You wonder if there were any flyers with your face on ‘em stuck to lamp posts around town. If anyone’s looking for you. If anyone’ll ever find you.

You wonder if you’re even you anymore, after all the gruesome things you’ve seen and done in service to the Doghead, all for fear of his terrible wrath.

You wonder, does a person retain some core sense of being, regardless of the choices they make or the experiences they go through in life? Or can a person become so completely transformed by these things that they no longer bear any resemblance to the person they once were? Is it possible to live one lifetime as numerous different people? Or is there only one true self?

Think hard on this one, now. You might just be able to make it out of this maze yet, depending on your answer. Or you might be stuck out here for the rest of your natural life, a barely existent skeleton, freezing in the lonely mountains, living to serve the disembodied head of a malevolent canine god. So close your eyes and concentrate— (interrupting self) Oh hey, Cecil's back!

CECIL: Hey everyone! Wow, thanks so much for filling in, John Peters. Sorry I’m so late. I completely lost track of time out at the imaginary corn maze, with the caramel apples and the jug band and the petting zoo…Oh my god, the baby goats are so cute, with their soft human skin and sad little human faces!

Anyway, I know I speak for everyone in town when I say, I really hope this becomes an annual tradition. It’s already added a lot to the fall spirit around here. But I know autumnal frollicking is no excuse to shirk my duties here at the station. Though in my defense, I completely forgot who I was or where I was supposed to be for a good six hours after coming out of that maze.

Big shoutout again to John Peters for designing such a delightfully creepy labyrinth, and for stepping in for me. I owe you one, buddy! And I promise to be back here on time for the next show with some extra juicy headlines for everyone.

In the meantime, be sure to check out that corn maze, listeners! And stay tuned for both discs of Pure Moods 2: The Mummy Returns.

Goodnight, Night Vale.

JOHN PETERS: Nighty-night, y’all.