What you are about to hear rhymes with orange.
On behalf of Kakos Industries, I would like to welcome you to the official Shareholder Announcements. At Kakos Industries, we help you to Do Evil Better. As always, I am Corin Deeth III, CEO of Kakos Industries, your trustworthy narrator. As you know, even when I lie, my lies reflect a deeper truth that the truth alone could not attain.
Today’s broadcast is coming to you on a small DIY radio kit that you were instructed to assemble in time for today’s broadcast. We do recognize that the device only included ill-fitting plastic tools and was extremely difficult to tune properly. Also, the directions were only in Japanese. If you don’t read Japanese, then Gomen’nasai. I will caution anyone listening that this broadcast is exclusively for shareholders of Kakos Industries. If you happen to not be a shareholder but maybe you helped a shareholder with the assembly, then the device will slowly draw from the part of your brain that possesses your technical knowledge, and it will store it for our later use. The process has already begun. It would be best to leave now, or make peace with you new inabilities.
Did you have a good Shareholders’ Ball, shareholders? Mine was pretty okay. Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s move on.
I would like to tell you about our next festival, but first I have some more important news. Shareholders, we have a bit of a special event today at Kakos Industries. It seems that we found a room, and that room was in need of some serious organization. My grandfather’s style here at Kakos Industries was a bit more fast and loose than mine is, and I will not stand for clutter. Now, no one knows where this room came from. It’s possible that it was a planned expansion that no one knew about. It’s also possible that it was behind some sort of vending machine or maybe a large portrait of one of the board members. It’s also possible that the building here was just settling a little bit, and the geometry of the building caused said settling to craft a perfectly constructed office. Where the boxes and clutter came from in that scenario, I do not know. It’s also possible that no one noticed the room just because it was so plain, and it took a particularly mindful individual to break the cycle of mindless travel through the hallways. At any rate, one notably concerning development is that we found a large crate inside the room. The crate was marked “Danger” and “Peligro” and some nether dialect word that I am certain to slaughter. Of Course, we opened the box, shareholders. We had to. And inside was a machine that no one on staff recognizes, and that has no clear functionality. It has a panel of buttons on one side, along with an older monitor. On either side, there are a series of levers and sliders. On the back, there appears to be numerous electronic connection ports, as well as some physical exhaust ports. There’s also a number of input ports for liquid or gases or really who knows. The problem with all of this is that none of these connection ports, exhaust ports, or input ports are of a standard size, pinout, or shape that we have ever seen before here. Even the shape of the monitor is a ratio that has never been standardized, 8x13. The only familiar thing is the power plug, which is the standard three-prong shape, but is just slightly too large to fit into any of our outlets. We have, of course, bent the plug to fit just barely, and if anyone trips over the cable while we’re working on it again, I swear to fuck that they will be so fired. SO FIRED. Anyway, we’ve plugged it in, and I’ve got a monitor into the room we’re keeping it in, and the staff down there are waiting for my instructions. I have to keep my distance for safety reasons, obviously. Instruction number one: turn the device on. They’re reporting a hum, shareholders. Something inside is clearly running. Okay. Press the green button. Shareholders, the monitor has turned on. It is running through a series of screens in languages I’ve never seen, and with flashing lights and graphics. Does anyone know what this says? Is it any known language? They are indicating that they do not know. Now it has come to a rest, shareholders. It is asking for input. Ask the device what it’s function is. We’ve rigged a keyboard into one of the input ports. It says, in English, “stand by”. Well, I guess we don’t have any choice.
Also in this room, we’ve found an old Kakos Industries rulebook, Kakos Industries Rules and Regulations Volume 11 to be exact. It does appear to be legitimate, but this volume has been lost for decades at least. I’m not sure my grandfather ever saw it before it was lost. Grace Rule is in the process of studying, and memorizing, the document, but one important thing to note is that the tome does appear to describe a change in the festivities here at Kakos Industries for this year. The major festivals will remain, but nearly every other festival has been changed. Shareholders, I know this sounds bizarre, but instead of your regularly scheduled Fire Festival, giving us the opportunity to burn down a branch and destroy evidence, we now have the Festival of Unimaginable Horror. We’re still looking into the details, but we’ve put the Division of Insurmountable Fear on it. When I spoke to Felix Moloch, the head of the division, about the festival, he had this to say: “Yiss. Motherfuckin’ yiss.” I expect that this will not be the last we hear about this book of Rules and Regulations.
I just received a message from one of Grace Rule’s assistants saying that I haven’t done my due diligence to the Shareholders’ Ball recap. Fine. You want to hear that Melantha walked into the damn thing like she owned the place? You want to hear that she commanded the attention of every single person in the room? You want to hear that she ate double what everyone else did and didn’t seem to slow in the slightest? You want to hear how she killed the economist herself with one well-placed fork strike? You want to hear how she made up for her lack of sexual vocabulary with raw physical intelligence? You want to hear how she exhausted person after person with her ability to give and receive pleasure? You want to hear about how people on the other side of the room would find themselves spontaneously climaxing along with her? The woman can transmit pleasure. And then Hailey? You want to hear how she has the raw energy of a “London Calling” to Melantha’s “South Side of the Sky”? You want to hear how she feasted on the nutrients of hundreds in attendance, leaving none totally dead, but many totally exhausted? You want to hear about how my own shareholders took the time to tell me that they were glad that Melantha and Hailey had bought stock? You want to hear about how I’ve never seen their faces more satisfied? I haven’t even mention Helena yet. You want to hear how Dr. Dunkelwissen outfitted her with at least twenty different sexual appendages? You want to hear about how her whole body vibrates? You want to hear about how it was all I could do to stay away from her, but in the heat of things, I’m not really sure I was successful? You want to hear about how we lost 14 people to the celebration, but after bronzing them, I was forced to turn them over to Melantha as trophies due to some arcane Evil law? Well, I don’t want to talk about any of those things. I mean, I guess that’s just my way of not saying those things directly, anyway. Unlike last year, I am no longer finding remnants of the flavored blend of blood on my body because after the event I could not scrub myself hard enough. I am certain I left no trace of it. We have always said at Kakos Industries that “Sex washes off”, but something about that ball just wouldn’t. I don’t know yet if Melantha has found a way out of owning a piece of Kakos Industries, but I am certain that there is yet more chaos to be found here.
It seems that the mysterious machine has finally returned an answer. “Could not parse.” Okay, press the blue button. I am told that the hum has changed. The machine now says “Engaging”. I think we’ll have to wait a little bit longer. Is it just me or have things gotten a little colder and perhaps a little dimmer? Might just be my imagination.
Shareholders, I have news from the Sexual Innovation Division. It seems that their program to perfect the dick pick has gone extremely well. Men have been leaving their sessions with perfect photographs of their penises that sell their penises as a kind and sensitive sort, with a good sense of humor, and an infectious laugh. I am told that these men are running into problems, however, when they get to the next step. The women expect their penises to be all of these things in person, when they are in fact artifice. The end result is that these men are not having the easy and indiscriminate sex that they hoped for, but instead an awkward and disappointing meeting. As a result, the SID has been working on a program that will actually teach the dick to carry on the entire relationship, using proper etiquette, paying kind compliments, and providing that real human connection, allowing the man to just sit back and let the relationship happen, just as he has always wanted. Women will be drawn to the dick and will want to spend time with the dick, without the man ever having to do a single thing. Truly, we have opened a door to paradise.
The mysterious machine has apparently finished engaging in whatever it was engaging in, and is now waiting for new input. Did anyone notice anything? I didn’t. Nothing for certain, anyway. Let’s press the orange button this time. I am being told that the machine has made an onomatopoeia sound. I don’t know what that means. That’s not descriptive enough, guys. No, wait, the machine actually sounds like the word “onomatopoeia”. That is surprising. The monitor only says “yesing”. Does anyone have any idea what that means? No? Okay, we’ll have to come back to it. Wait, I noticed a shadow on my monitor. There’s some movement behind another box. They’re looking... It’s… It’s a human child, shareholders. A little girl, maybe 3 years old. Her hair is black, and her skin is pale. Her eyes are sunken and dark. Her canine teeth are sharp. How could we possibly have a feral child here at Kakos Industries? Well… Okay, it’s not unreasonable that we would have some feral children. Do we know whose child that is? They’re scanning the chip in her neck, shareholders. It’s… it’s Karawack? But she was only just born! Now that I think about it, her mother hasn’t been into work for a while. She luckily avoided the fate that her fellow accountants met when Helena cut off their air by virtue of being sick, but she hasn’t returned to her post. That still doesn’t explain how Karawack got loose on the premises and aged what appears to be more than two years in that time. Shareholders, this room holds a number of mysteries.
We can finally talk about our Angry and We Mean It Party. For the most part, we’ve been laying low politically, but some of our candidates have won federal and state offices. We really sealed the deal by pandering to the crowd that thinks that the fifties were just great.
I think you are probably wondering what Billy and Kara are up to. Well, the answer is not much. We were getting sick with anticipation after they just didn’t end up killing each other again and we’ve decided to freeze them until such a time as Kakos Industries no longer exists, or we can cure whatever the fuck is wrong with them. In other news, there’s a cute lesbian couple in the Division of Dams and Water Management. We didn’t even make them a couple. They just did it all on their own. And apparently they like each other. Perhaps we can make them like each other more, though. You know, with science. We’ll have to get to work on that.
They say that when you look into the darkness, the darkness puts its finger inside of you. This is Things We’re Taking Credit for Now. This week, we’re taking credit for swamp ass, thigh friction, and broken high heels. Again, we can’t know for certain that we are responsible for any of these things, but we believe it strongly, and you can’t prove otherwise. If you can prove otherwise, then you will disappear. Just disappear. Gone. Goodbye.
Dale Flail has won this week’s Ruin-A-Life Drawing. As a result, the life of his nemesis will be ruined. Dale has selected Denise Fleece as his nemesis. He muttered something about her never going on a date with him. That is incredibly petty of you Dale. But, as always, we don’t care why, we just do it. The Wheel of Misery turned around seventeen times before landing on Forever Unrefined. For the rest of Denise’s life, she will never attain anything close to perfection, no matter what it is, or how hard she tries. Her appearance will always be asymmetrical, her work will be sloppy, and her passions in life will be just out of reach. For good measure, Dale will never get a date with a woman. We don’t even really have to do anything for this one. He’s that awful. Best of luck to you both.
The machine is evidently done “yesing”, shareholders. I don’t know what that was supposed to do, but I swear that I felt something cold touch me. Before you ask, Helena’s not in the room. Nor is anyone else. Soundman Steven is in his booth. He’s also very warm to the touch, if you’re curious. Anyway, let’s just push the gray button. The machine now says that it’s “rectifying”. That’s at least a word being used in a way I understand. Oh, there’s a letter on my desk. It appears to be from my grandfather. I’ll read it to you now, shareholders. “Corin, I’ve written this letter in case you ever find the mysterious contraption. I just want to tell you that you’re going to have to just let it go. We never figured out what it did. And we spent years on it. We pushed all the buttons. It yesed and rectified and tilde’d and quarrelled and wrangled and nothing tangible ever happened. We put all kinds of things into it, too. Some of those things came out. They were always the same as they went in. We’ve used every plug we have, and invented some new ones to fit it. The best guess I have is that one of our mad scientists went really mad and made what he was sure was going to change everything, but instead made something incomprehensible. It’s like some sort of modern Voynich Manuscript, if it was the case that I didn’t know exactly what the Voynich Manuscript was. I’ll let you figure that one out on your own. At any rate, we’ve already lost sixteen researchers to the mystery. Some have ended it themselves, others have worked themselves into illness. It’s not worth it. Just put it back in the box and let it go. Nothing of value will come from pressing the buttons. Nothing of value will come from entering codes. And nothing of value will come from pouring bull semen into the intake valve. Just let it go. Let it go for grandpa. Corin Deeth I.” Well, shareholders, it doesn’t get more specific than that. But still, we have more technology now, and we have even more scientists, and what’s losing a couple of them to insanity? The device has finished rectifying. Okay, press the teal button. No, that was the blue-green button. Oh well. Wait, did anyone catch those numbers that went by? I think I saw a 6, a 7, a 16, a 91, a 23, and a 111. They confirm. I wasn’t the only one who saw them. Anyway, that’s our time for today, shareholders. Destroy your radios and here are the numbers.
Wait, how did… um… fuck.
Kakos Industries is written and produced by Conrad Miszuk, who is also the voice of Corin Deeth. The music is also composed by Conrad Miszuk. The introduction is read by Kim Aiello, and the credits are read by Hanna Jones, who is currently keeping bees. Bees! Check out KakosIndustries.com for more episodes. There’s also transcriptions if you’d rather read the Kakos Industries announcements. That’s K-A-K-O-S-I-N-D-U-S-T-R-I-E-S dot com. Questions, comments, or a strong desire to collaborate? Drop us a line at firstname.lastname@example.org. That's I-N-Q-U-I-R-I-E-S @ K-A-K-O-S-I-N-D-U-S-T- R-I-E-S dot com. If you like Kakos Industries, be sure to rate and review us on iTunes and Stitcher, and like us on Facebook.
If you’re feeling down after this broadcast, have you considered that the color blue I see may not be the color blue you see?