How are you, crazy cult film...
Cult fans, man?
I'm Craig Muckler.
I'm King of the B movies.
I welcome you to yet another
Polonia Brothers Entertainment
show fest.
I want you to sit down and
enjoy this crazy fun film.
Maybe have a joint,
or a beer, or pretend
I'm sitting right next to you.
As you know, I'm crazy, right?
After all, this
inspired movie is by...
Inspired by Edgar Allen
Poe and Lovecraft.
I was told I'm a
reincarnation of them.
Certainly my films are.
It's like my
cult, theatrical cult film
microwave m*ssacre.
Well, this will be a thrill
of a lifetime, this film.
Sit down.
Relax.
And if you don't like it,
well it's not my fault.
Oh, and if you're really
too afraid of this film,
you can turn it off and watch
Microwave m*ssacre or Malibu.
High.
I will not tell the producers.
Eternal brew the
shadows on the surround.
Dreaming of centuries
that have gone before.
Great elms rise solemnly
by slab and mound.
Arched high above a
hidden world of yore.
Around all the scene a
light of memory plays.
And dead leaves whisper
of departed days.
Longing for sights and
sounds that are more.
Lonely and sad a specter
glides along aisles.
Where of old his
living footsteps fell.
No common glance discerns him.
Though his song peals
down through time.
With a mysterious spell.
Only the few whose
sorcery secret know.
The spy amidst these tombs.
The shade of Poe.
Boo.
Lonely and sad, a specter
glides along aisles.
Where of old his
living footsteps fell.
No common glance discern him.
Though his song peals
down through time.
With a mysterious spell.
Eternal brood, the
shadow on this ground.
Dreaming of centuries
that have gone before.
Great elms rise solemnly
by slab and mound.
Arched high above a
hidden world of yore.
Round all the scene a
light of memory plays.
And dead leaves whisper
of departed days.
Longing for sights and sounds.
That are no more.
Only the dew whose
sorcery secret know
a spy amidst tombs.
The shadow of Poe.
So bottom
line, Mark, it's a $3 million
budget.
The sequels to Spookies
is box office gold.
If you want to
direct, let me know.
$3 million.
I could make 300
movies for that much.
Oh, we just want to
make one good movie.
Let me know what you think.
Will do, Frank.
Take care.
Hello.
Jesus Christ.
Scare people often?
Sorry.
Is this still a good Time.
Good time?
Why did you want to meet
in the middle of nowhere?
I just wanted to
make sure it was safe.
Safe from whom?
See, this is what I
want to talk to you about.
You're a filmmaker, and
I have a story for you
to make into a movie.
Look, sweetie.
Thanks for the
offer, but I don't
finance other people's movies.
Why don't you go write
a book or something?
Trust me, you're going
to want to hear this pitch.
Does it have anything to do
with the 1986 movie Spookies?
What?
Never mind.
Look, if you can
pitch me your story
before I'm done with my
emails, you have my attention.
It all began just
a few weeks ago.
Good morning, Cape Cod.
It's spring break.
Do you know where
your daughter is?
Crazy Kenny does.
Hey, that's me.
It's a beautiful,
sunny, 87 degree beach
weather day in Cancun, Mexico.
While up here, it's brisk
and 38 degrees in the shade
and even colder in the woman.
I see you met my wife.
Tonight's forecast will be
dark, but right now the sun
is out and trying its best.
But hey, slow down.
Take a breath.
Keep the window
rolled up and relax.
You're in Cape Cod now, baby.
I'll take the wheel.
You just keep listening.
And Crazy Kenny will get
you where you want to go.
And hey, if you drive off the
road, you are still on the Cape.
So where else other
than somewhere warmer,
would you rather be?
Hey, we got the tunes.
We get the motion
down by the ocean.
It's Crazy Kenny.
It's time to party, let loose
and forget about your day job.
What job?
Sit back and enjoy the
ride while it lasts.
Oh, you've got to
be kidding me, Sarah.
What the f*ck?
What?
It's winter, and this is
nowhere south of the Rio Grande.
Levi, we agreed to this.
Everything here is half off.
And it's half dead too, Sarah.
Everybody left for
a warmer place.
I like it, I mean,
it's not the Catskills
where Dutch and Petey
went, but it's good enough.
Exactly, plus, we're
here to rehearse, not
get drunk and stupid
like Dutch and Petey.
Speak for yourself.
You
are watching Outer Cape News.
Good morning.
Morning, morning, morning.
Bless your soul.
Salutations and hello.
What a day we
have, another beautiful day,
both spiritually
and weather related.
For those who work
in an office setting,
you will be pleased to
know that mercury is
no longer in retrograde, whoo!
All electronic devices
should be in order.
For those of you who
rely on the temperature,
high 35, low 22, with the
potential of light snow
this evening.
Wind gusts will be
primarily in the air.
With more on today's forecast,
we'll check back with you
later in the day.
Harbor.
Hey Coast Guard, all clear.
Hello world, and welcome
to In My Footsteps podcast.
I am Christopher
Setterlund, coming to you
from the vacation
destination known
as Cape Cod, Massachusetts.
This week's show is going
to be an excellent show.
It's going to be about
famous authors who have
visited Cape Cod in the past.
But before we get
into that, I've
got a special sponsor, Msfts
Gym, trainer Caelen, or her gym.
Msfts in Yarmouthport,
Massachusetts.
It's got classes for
every body, training,
anything you could want.
Don't just fit in.
Belong at Msfts Gym.
Visit them.
You won't be sorry.
So let's get into this show.
Provincetown has had many, many
visitors throughout the years,
but many don't know that two
notorious New England authors
of the 19th and 20th centuries
both visited there under very
strange circumstances.
We'll start in 1826
with Edgar Allen Poe.
He took a ferry from
Boston to Land's End
for what he called an
ongoing investigation.
He spent only a few days
there, and very little
is known about what he did,
what he was investigating.
Now let's move forward 100
years, HP Lovecraft, 1926.
He spent a few days in
Provincetown that summer,
wandering the dunes.
He was seen on multiple
occasions shopping,
taking strolls.
And much like Poe, it is
said that Lovecraft was also
conducting his own research
on another investigation.
Now, 100 years later,
you've got to ask yourself,
what were they looking for?
This sucks.
I'm so unhappy.
What is it now?
I'm cold.
It's winter on Cape Cod.
What did you expect?
It's beautiful.
Take it all in.
It's cold.
Hey, I think I found something.
Look what I got!
Is it contagious?
What is that?
Weird.
Fitzi.
Let's celebrate inside where
there's less wind chill
and frost.
The stage is now set.
Excuse me.
Would it be too much
if I could bother you
for like, an autograph?
Thank you.
I love The Raven.
From even
the greatest of horrors.
Irony is seldom absent.
The world is indeed comic.
But the joke is on mankind.
I never ask a man
what his business is,
For it never interests me.
What I ask him about are
his thoughts and dreams.
That is not dead.
What the hell are we watching?
It's called A Cape Cod Piece.
A piece of what?
It's a good question.
I think it's about Cape Cod.
Could be a piece of chicken.
Or a piece of a*s.
Maybe it's a piece of sh*t.
Is there anything else
you can complain about today?
Is clam chowder
all we've got to eat?
Amazing.
Can we please get
a pizza tomorrow?
Yes, definitely
a piece of chicken.
Definitely.
Could we please
watch something else,
anything other than this?
Oh, I love this show.
What the hell is this?
This is Penny Dreadful
Shilling Shockers.
She has a public Access TV show
that shows old horror movies.
I was going to guess that.
I'm not eating chowder
this entire week.
Seriously, we are
getting a pizza.
OK, Levi.
God.
Tomorrow, I will
pick up a pizza.
And how the hell do
we not have any cable?
We have the internet.
Be content with that.
Plus, we're here to rehearse,
not watch soap operas.
I like Gru.
Chilling Shockers.
The most merciful
thing in the world, I think,
is the inability
of the human mind
to correlate all its contents.
We live on a placid
island of ignorance
in the midst of black
seas of infinity.
And it was not meant that
we should voyage far.
The sciences, each straining
in its own direction,
have hitherto harmed us little.
But some day, the
piecing together
of dissociated knowledge will
open up such terrifying vistas
of reality and of our
frightful position
therein, that we shall either
go mad from the revelation,
or flee from the deadly
light into the peace
and safety of a dark new age.
Gimme, gimme, baby.
Gimme, let me do it.
Gimme, gimme, baby.
Gimme, let me do it.
Gimme gimme, baby.
Gimme, let me do it.
Baby.
Gimme, gimme, baby.
What the hell are we doing?
We're making the
best of it, Levi.
We can't go to the beach, so
we're bringing the beach inside.
Can we just cut the
sh*t and run our lines?
Fine.
Levi k*lled the
beach party, Fitzi.
Levi.
Life's a beach.
Meh!
Once upon a midnight
dreary, while I
pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious
volume of forgotten lore...
While I nodded, nearly napping,
suddenly there came a tapping,
As if someone gently rapping,
rapping at my chamber door.
To some visitor, I muttered,
tapping at my chamber door...
Only this and nothing more.
Distinctly, I remember,
it was in the bleak December.
And each separate, dying
ember wrought its ghost
upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow...
Vainly I had sought to borrow.
From my books a
crease of sorrow,
sorrow for the lost Lenore...
For the rare and radiant maiden
whom the Angel's name Lenore...
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad, uncertain
rustling of each purple curtain.
Thrilled me... filled me
with fantastic terrors
never felt before.
So that now to still
the beating of my heart,
I stood repeating.
To some visitor and treating
entrance at my chamber door...
Some late visitor entreating
entrance at my chamber door...
This it is, and nothing more.
Presently my soul grew stronger,
hesitating then no longer;
Sir, said I or Madam, truly
your forgiveness I implore.
But the fact is I was napping,
and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping,
tapping at my chamber door.
That I scarce was sure I heard
you, here I open wide the door.
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that
darkness peering, long I
stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming
dreams no mortal ever
dared to dream before.
But the silence was unbroken,
and the stillness gave no token.
And the only word there spoken
was the whispered word, Lenore.
This, I whispered, and an echo
murmured back the word, Lenore.
Fitzi it's your line.
sh**t, I'm sorry.
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber, turning
all my soul within me burning.
Soon again I heard a tapping
somewhat louder than before.
Surely, said I, surely that is
something at my window lattice.
Let me see then what there it
is and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment
and this mystery explore.
'Tis the wind and nothing more.
Open here I flung
the shutter when
with many a flirt and flutter.
In their stepped a stately raven
of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least
obsidian made he, not
a minute stopped or stayed he.
But with mine of lord or lady
perched above my chamber door,
Perched upon a bust of Pallas
just above my chamber door.
Perched and sat
and nothing more.
Though thy crest
be sworn and shaven.
Thou, I said, art
sure no craven...
Ghastly, grim and ancient raven
wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what thy lordly name.
Fitzi, that's my line.
Oh, dang.
Sorry.
Jesus Christ.
Tell me what thy lordly name is
on the night's Plutonian shore.
Quoth the raven, nevermore.
You got that part right.
Levi, cut it out.
Where was I?
Much I marveled...
Right, much I marvel
this ungainly fowl
to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little
meaning, little relevancy bore.
For we cannot help agreeing
that no living human being.
Ever yet was blessed
with seeing bird
above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon
the sculptured bust
above his chamber door.
With such name as nevermore.
But the raven, sitting lonely
on the placid bust, spoke only.
That one word, as if his soul
and that one word he did out pour.
Nothing further than he uttered,
not a feather that he fluttered,
Till I scarcely
more than muttered,
other friends have flown before.
On the morrow, he will leave me
as my hopes have flown before.
Then the bird said nevermore.
Startled at the stillness
broken by reply so aptly spoken,
Doubtless, said I what I utters
is its only stock and store.
Caught from some unhappy
master, whom unmerciful disaster.
Followed fast and followed
faster till his songs
when burdened bore.
To the dirges of his hope
that melancholy burden bore.
Of never, nevermore.
But the raven still beguiling
all my fancy into smiling.
Straight I wheeled a cushioned
seat in front of bird and bust
and door.
Then upon the velvet sinking,
I betook myself to linking.
Fancy and to fancy, thinking
what this ominous bird of yore...
What this grim, ungainly,
ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird
of yore...
Meant in croaking nevermore.
This I sat engaged in guessing,
but no syllable expressing.
To the foul whose fiery eyes
now burden into my bosom's core.
This and more I sat divining
with my head at ease reclining.
On the cushion's velvet lining
that the lamplight gloated o'er.
But whose velvet violet lining
with the lamplight gloating o'er.
She shall press on nevermore.
Then methought the
air grew denser Perfume
from an unseen censer,
Swung by Seraphim
whose footfalls
tinkled on the muffled floor.
Wretch, I cried, thy God hath
lent thee by these angels
he hath sent thee,
Respite, respite, and nephenthe
from thy memories of Lenore.
Quaff oh quaff
this kind nephenthe
and forget the lost Lenore.
Quoth the raven, nevermore.
Prophet said I, thing of evil,
prophet still, if bird or devil,
Whether tempter sent or whether
tempest tossed thee here ashore.
Desolate yet all undaunted
on this desert land enchanted.
On this home by horror haunted
tell me truly, I implore.
Is there, is there in Gilead?
Tell me, tell me, I implore.
Quoth the raven, nevermore.
Prophet, I said
thing of evil prophet
still, if bird or devil...
By that heaven that bends us
above, by that God we both adore.
Tell this soul with sorrow laden
if within the distant Aidan.
It shall clasp a sainted maiden,
whom the Angel's name Lenore.
Oh, you've got to be kidding me,
Fitzi.
Oh, sh**t.
I'm sorry.
Just say your damn line.
Quoth the raven, nevermore.
I'm sorry.
Be that word or sign of
parting, bird or fiend,
I shrieked up, starting.
Get thee back into the tempest
and the night's Plutonian shore.
Leave no black plume as a token
of that lie thy soul hath spoken.
Leave my loneliness unbroken...
Quit the bust above my door.
Take thy beak from out my
heart and take thy form
from off my door.
Quoth the raven, nevermore.
And the raven never flitting
still is sitting, still
is sitting.
On the pallid bust of Pallas
just above my chamber door.
And his eyes have
all the seeming
of a demon that is dreaming...
And the lamp light o'er him
streaming throws his shadows
on the floor.
And my soul from out the shadow
that lies floating on the door.
Shall be lifted nevermore.
Shall be lifted nevermore.
Shall be lifted nevermore.
Shall be lifted nevermore.
You
are watching the Outer Cape news
network.
Thank you for allowing us
into your home and your souls.
The friends at the Associated
Press and the national news
network has reported that a
small and unusual earthquake
has been tracked off the
Coast of Truro, Massachusetts.
I assure you, there is no
need to panic or elevate
your stress levels.
Oh, the Richter scale, the
quake came in at a whopping 1.5,
equivalent to a dump truck
speeding by your home
at 70 miles per hour
on a school day.
Just breathe.
Everything will be OK.
Everything will be OK.
Harbor.
The harbor!
Nah, nah, OK.
Mark, not much of a
horror movie, if you ask me.
Not enough blood, not enough
gore, nudity, sex, you know,
everything that makes
a horror movie great.
I agree, Stephen.
It's definitely
lacking something.
Well, maybe the second
act will be great.
And if you want to come
on my show eventually,
just let me know.
I'll be glad to have you on.
You were saying?
Well, we're back.
Thank you so much to MSFTS Gym
and Yarmouthport, Massachusetts
for sponsoring this
episode of the podcast.
Go and check them out.
So this month we're celebrating
local folklore, local Cape Cod
folklore.
Among them are the stories
of Goody Hallett and black
Sam Bellamy.
According to legend, Goody
Hallett and Black Sam,
their spirits haunt
the dunes of Wellfleet.
We've covered the local legends
of the Cooke family homestead.
The Cooke family's patriarch,
and two sons disappeared at sea
in the early 1800s, and their
daughter Mary Cooke died in that
home.
Every Halloween tails of
the place being haunted
have entertained
locals for generations.
OK, and today's guest is Evelyn.
Oh, Evelyn, I don't
even have a last name
for you, let alone a title.
So what should we call you?
We are all in grave danger.
Great way to start off
an introduction, Evelyn.
For those who are
local to Cape Cod,
you might know Evelyn as
a psychic storyteller.
Some might even call
you a soothsayer.
So with that, what have
you got to say, soothy?
Mock me if you must.
But the stage has been set.
The three sisters have
returned to the Land's End.
These are the gray ones,
the witches, the gray.
So kind of like
the three sisters
lighthouses, because we did
a previous show on that topic
about the lighthouses being
moved, stuff like that?
The sisters are witches,
hags that share one eye
and one tooth.
Wow, so they should
be easy to spot, right?
You must listen.
They are part of the story
of what's yet to come.
You mentioned on
your previous show
that the two pilgrims came to
Provincetown to seek this out.
HP Lovecraft and Edgar Allen
Poe before him, both men
knew of the stories
and came here
to find out that the
darkness truly existed.
So they came to
find the darkness.
Yes.
Also known as the Black Flash.
Did you say Black Flash?
They both came to document
their investigations
on the truth of the Black Flash.
Both failed, and
in return became
the Black Flash, which has
haunted the townspeople
for generations.
If the signs all
read to be true,
the Black Flash will
return to reign supreme.
Are you saying that the legend
of the Black Flash on the Cape
are the spirits of Edgar
Allen Poe and HP Lovecraft?
The Black Flash is
a ghost, and an ghost
is nothing more than
unfinished business.
The darkness has returned in
the unfinished evil spirit
of Lovecraft and Poe.
Ugh, I'm going to have to call
bullshit out on you, Evelyn.
Sorry.
You see, the legends of
the Black Flash started
in the 1930s.
Poe visited here over
100 years prior to that.
And as for Lovecraft, the
only thing he did in this town
was walk around.
No, he did more
than just walk around.
No, I disagree.
He came here and did
nothing but walk around.
Look, you're being
a little hostile.
I came here on your
program to warn
your audience that sh*t is going
to hit the fan pretty soon.
The Black Flash was
folklore that came over here
from England, nothing more.
Nevermore.
What?
Cape Cod will be
completely underwater
by the end of this week.
OK, and how's Lovecraft
going to do this,
with help from Cthulhu?
Don't say his name.
The sisters are witches.
Hags that share
one eye one tooth.
Excuse me, could you direct
me to Spiritus Pizza, please?
Sure, it's down commercial
street on your right.
OK, thanks.
What the f*ck?
Are you Frankenstein?
No.
Me Frankenstein monster.
OK.
Five large pizzas,
a TV, a case of beer,
and a large box of tampons,
extra small, is that right?
Only one way to find out.
Soon there will be no
more time to breathe.
Hey, guys.
I'm back.
The pizza shop is closed, but
I picked up this cool art.
You bought a TV?
With cable.
And where did you get pizza?
Levi ordered it with
the television and beer.
Levi, we're here to
rehearse, not get drunk.
Oh, God, I'm so sick of
hearing about rehearsing.
We're on spring break.
Why can't we do both?
Let's celebrate the fact that
we're out here on spring break.
Because Fitzi can't hold
her liquor and you're a drunk.
I'm not a drunk.
I like to have a few drinks,
pass out on occasion,
and wake up from having good
sex with the delivery man.
You girls enjoy your break,
and thanks for the coffee.
Oh my God, Levi.
What?
He's old enough to be your dad.
Mine too.
First of all, I'm
on spring break.
Second, it's too cold
outside to do anything else.
And third, this sucks.
Well, then maybe you should
take a bus back to the city.
Or maybe you can catch a
ride with your salty daddy.
Look, b*tch.
Stop fighting, please!
Great.
Look what you did.
I didn't do anything.
You started it.
What if she wanders
too far and gets
lost and doesn't remember
what the cottage looks like?
We're surrounded by water.
How far can she go?
Oh, my God, she can't swim.
Fitzi!
We should have gone to Cancun.
This may be my final
video log before the end.
The witches have returned
to the province lands.
The spirit of Lovecraft is
stronger than it has ever been.
Soon, the high priestess
of the great old ones,
the sleeper of Aria, the great
dreamer, the slumbering one,
the great old one, will
finally emerge from his sleep
and fall upon us.
I wait here in the
dunes for a sign.
Fitzi?
Fitz?
Fitzi!
Fitz!
And the raven, never
flitting Still is sitting,
still is sitting.
On the pallid bust of Pallas
just above my chamber door.
And his eyes have
all the seeming
of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight
O'er him streaming
throws his shadow on the floor.
And my soul from out that shadow
that lies floating on the floor,
Shall be lifted nevermore.
Sarah?
Hello?
Levi?
Is anyone there?
Ladies and gentlemen,
"Cake Boss" by Exentric.
Man doesn't anyone
have good sh*t anymore?
I might know this one guy.
Who is it?
They call him the Cake Boss.
I heard he delivers
like Mr. Beast.
Legend has it that his
lines will hit you harder
than 10 tabs of acid.
Leave you on your a*s if you
tripped before doing a back flip.
He's higher than
the average primate.
The rap ceiling is
bigger than the Amazon.
A giant Calvin Harris and
gorilla with the tactics.
Seals Team Six status Like magic.
He's bound to
switch on the assets.
Natural like Imagine
Dragons in the sky.
So it's no wonder why his head.
Is in the clouds
when he's rapping,
But he's still tackling
the tracks like Usain.
Popping pharmacy speed.
Livin' faster than Barry Allen.
Brings a crossbow with lyrical
bolts and emotions held back.
It's probably best not to be
in his vision when he snaps.
But even on his game
he isn't playing.
He never aimed for attention
and didn't do it for cash.
Any questions being asked.
Since he's seen his fat
ex just shake her t*tties.
And gain millions in
followers in a flash.
So he stays busy
till the day ends.
Anyway and all he's
got his inspiration.
Whenever the beats banging.
But his mind keeps on
straying off into outer space.
And he wonders if it would be
the same without his medications.
Life's a trip so he
packed for a vacation.
And booked a plane
cause he's only got one.
And ain't trying to
waste it on Facebook.
Scrolling social media in
the name of staying active.
While life passes him
by like the far side.
It's like he's trapped.
Trapped in the matrix.
Trying to find a
way to escape it.
Yet the more he tries.
The more it looks like
he'll never make it.
He's grateful for music.
It's all he could relate with.
But there's nothing
for him in this world
that he was ever great at.
And he can't take it.
He's motivated but frustrated.
Anxious till the point
where he can't concentrate.
For Christ's sake, they
fed him amphetamines.
And now tell them hit the brakes.
But he can't.
He hits light speed and
blasts off into space.
You can't stop him.
It's jaw dropping.
The way he tops it off.
Like the Cake Boss
with the frosting.
Coughing cause he's so sick.
Proceed with caution live COVID.
A beast with so many bars.
To not spit would be exhausting.
You can't stop him.
It's jaw dropping.
The way he tops it off.
Like the Cake Boss
with the frosting.
Coughing cause he's so sick.
Proceed with caution like COVID.
A beast with so many bars.
To not spit would be exhausting.
He spaces out Distance
and overthinking.
They almost made him a victim.
But he became the villain.
They couldn't stop the reaction.
Like a tower b*mb dropping.
When he went ballistic on him.
And hit him back with precision.
Haters, I'm shining until they
tried to steal the star dust.
And still waste their
time complaining.
Wondering why they don't got it.
Even blindfolded, he'll beat
them jackasses like a pinata.
While he's pulling raps
out his hat like magic.
Ta-dah!
Beast mode, if life's a game.
Spitting gas is his cheat codes.
To defeat those pricks.
Sticking it to them every week.
So he just keeps going.
Picking them off
like he's Pedico.
Chewing em up and
ripping em into pieces.
So there's definitely
no way you can stop em.
It's jaw dropping the
way he tops it off.
Like the Cake Boss
with the frosting.
Coughing cause he's so sick.
Proceed with caution live COVID.
A beast with so many bars.
To not spit would
it be exhausting.
You can't stop em.
It's jaw dropping the
way he tops it off.
Like the Cake Boss
with the frosting.
Coughing cause he's so sick.
Proceed with caution live COVID.
A beast with so many bars.
To not spit would
it be exhausting.
Well, sh*t hit him.
Oh, actually, he's not
taking any calls at the moment.
But what the f*ck.
Wow.
Sometimes the
pain is unbearable.
Almost nobody dances sober
unless they happen to be insane.
Oh, f*ck.
I have seen
the dark universe yawn.
Where the black planets
roll without aim.
Where they roll in
their horror unheeded.
Without knowledge
or luster or name.
Hello world and welcome
to In My Footsteps podcast.
I am Christopher
Setterlund, coming to you
from the vacation
destination known
as Cape Cod, Massachusetts.
All right, so we got a
great show this week.
I'm going to try to
wash the sour taste out
of my mouth of the debacle of
the last episode with Evelyn.
She was not the greatest guest.
Before we get
there, the way we're
going to wash the horrible
taste out of our mouth
is with some great food.
Sponsor of this week's episode,
Kiki's Cape Cod kitchen.
Cape Cod cuisine with a Cape
Verdean, a Portuguese type
of flair to it.
You can get this everywhere,
Barnes and Noble, Amazon.
I'm going to make some great
food after this episode,
and try to wash the
horrible taste out
of my mouth from
last week's show.
In our last episode, we
talked about the films
of Victor Franco.
We talked about his films,
k*ller Campout, Hecatomb,
and his Opus Solitaire.
Now I want to focus
on his later works
in the world of documentaries.
Sorry about that.
We'll edit that out after.
So I've got some props here.
I got this from Cape Hook
designs, another good friend,
another good sponsor.
Out of all the documentaries
to come out on Cape Cod,
one needs to ask the question
of how pivotal this film was
for investigation and solving
the oldest unsolved m*rder
mystery on Cape Cod,
nearly five decades.
The Lady of the Dunes.
Now, many will argue...
I'll edit that out after.
Anyway, The book I wrote
based on the investigation
and the filming of...
Fitzi!
Hello?
Who's there?
Sarah?
Fitzi?
Salty?
Hey, guys.
I'm back!
Hello?
Fitzi?
Levi?
Levi?
Who are you?
I am Providence.
I am Providence.
I am Providence.
But you are in Provincetown now.
Providence nevermore.
The world is indeed comic.
There the traveler is aghast.
The oldest and strongest
emotion of mankind is fear.
The oldest and strongest kind
of fear is fear of the unknown.
Choose your weapon.
It's boxing night on Cape Cod.
Good evening, everybody,
and welcome to the fight
of the century between two
literary legends of the 19th
and 20th century.
This is going to be
a match for the ages.
HP Lovecraft, record
0-0-0, height 5' 10",
weight 200 pounds,
dead 89 years.
Title, Father of Cosmic Horror.
Edgar Allen Poe, record 0-0-0,
Height 5' 8", weight 140
pounds, dead 177 years.
Title, Father of
the Detective Story.
As you can see, the scorecard
shows both writers even
with professional matches.
Lovecraft does hold an advantage
in both weight and height.
While Poe has been among
the dead for almost
an entire century
longer than Lovecraft.
The father of the modern day
horror and science fiction
faces off with the father
of the detective story.
This one is going
to be for the ages.
It's fight night.
Oh, that had to hurt.
If the past is a pebble in my
shoe, that punch to the face
was the future
rock to the skull.
Wow!
That last punch was so large
it was cyclopean to the 10th
degree.
Oh,
this is an Outer Cape breaking
news report.
Good evening, and
thank you for giving us
a moment of your busy time.
The national news broadcast has
reported that a magnitude 5.7
earthquake has struck off the
shores of the outermost cape
region, ooh, causing
the guaranteed
potential of a typhoon which
will be hitting the entire cape
region any minute now.
The National Guard has also
reported that the temperature
has dropped to an
earth-shattering negative 10
degrees below 0, which a
spokesperson for the Catholic.
Church has gone on the record
to report that this is a sign...
Ooh... of the end of days, and
that humanity is totally f*cked.
Harbor.
Poor soul.
Even death may die.
Then what?
What?
Then what happened?
Cthulhu rises from the ocean
and you're standing on the beach
staring at him?
What happens next?
Oh, Cthulhu sank
back into the ocean,
it stopped snowing
and everything else.
And what the hell happened
to Lovecraft and Poe?
No idea, actually.
I'm not sure about that.
Well, that's kind
of an abrupt ending.
Well, do you like
the pitch, at least?
I think it could be made into a
good manuscript and even better
movie.
Well, yeah, I'll make the
movie, but the ending sucks.
What do you mean,
the ending sucks?
Look, there's movies
with good endings
and there's movies
with bad endings.
And my ending sucks?
Exactly.
The ending of a movie needs
to be a shock or a surprise,
but never, ever boring.
Can you give me an example?
Sure.
How's this for a good ending?
Lonely and sad.
A Specter glides along aisles.
Where of old is
living footsteps fell.
No common glances discern him.
Though his song peals
down through time.
With a mysterious spell.
Eternal brood the
shadow on this ground.
Dreaming of centuries
that have gone before.
Great Elms rise solemnly
by slab and mound.
Arched high above a
hidden world of yore.
Round all the scene a
light of memory plays.
And dead leaves whisper
of departed days.
Longing for sights and
sounds that are no more.
Only the dew whose
sorcery secret
know the spy admits these
tombs, the shadow of Poe.
Yo mark, it's me, the
great pretender, Mike Kunda.
I gotta tell you,
that's one weird movie,
but I loved it, weird and fun.
You know, like the
original Willy Wonka?
And, yo, what a hell
of a boxing match.
I mean, not as good as me in
the ring, but hey, who is?
You want to make a real
movie with a real pretender?
Come on down to Philly.
I'll take you on my Rocky tour
experience chasing chickens,
punching frozen beef, and a
climactic run up the steps.
And of course, don't forget a
blessing from Father Carmine.
Then get you, my friend,
a real Philly cheese steak.
You know what I'm saying?
Until then, keep punching, Mark.
I'll see you at the movies.
Welcome to our World! Where we serve you cookies to ensure you get the best viewing experience on our site.
Did you know that you can remove censorship board-wide, use our advanced search functions, be notified when new content is posted, join our memberships, set episodes to show in any order you want & more if you are logged into your account?
Register or sign in here: ucp.php?mode=register
Did you know that you can remove censorship board-wide, use our advanced search functions, be notified when new content is posted, join our memberships, set episodes to show in any order you want & more if you are logged into your account?
Register or sign in here: ucp.php?mode=register
Cape Cod Cthulhu (2025)
Moderators: Maskath3, sidolanters, GabrielAlejo2341