in which we all wonder where that fucking shit is. We can’t have used it all already. Where is it? Where is the shit? Huh? Where did it go? Who took it? And Lore of the Past, Being of Pure Knowledge “wins” the Ruin-A-Life Drawing. Do Evil Better.

Transcription:

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Intro: What you are about to hear is a recording of a fight club exclusive to working clowns.

 

Hello, shareholders. This is Corin Deeth, CEO of Kakos Industries. I’m in the middle of, uh, well, we just had it. It was just right where we left it, and now it’s gone. And now everything is terrible. Maybe you’ve been doing it, shareholders. It’s a special formula. Our latest brand. It’s the best stuff. The purest. Add a little water. A little hexane. Pour off the top and you’ve got some really great stuff. The best. Like, a moment ago I was feeling fan-fucking-tastic. And now? Now I feel like a huge piece of shit took a shit and I’m that shit. But shittier. Like, what a divine fucking joke that I do the last fucking rail a few hours ago and then I have to talk to you about things. We had the DarkMegaCaine formula in the secure vault. Who could have gotten in there? We were making so fucking much of the stuff it was coming out of our ears. We had crates and barrels and drums. Like, yeah, we were doing a little, okay? But we couldn’t have done it all? And where is the fucking formula? We can make more. We have the technology. But the fucking piece of paper with the fucking instructions… Where the fuck did it go? The scientists who worked on it and started manufacture were apparently too fucking high themselves to remember how to make it without this stupid piece of paper. Jangus Crimson, I can’t focus like this. It’s not for sane people, feeling this way. You’re supposed to feel good. With your feel good stuff. And now… I’m licking up crumbs. I’m rubbing them between my teeth, Trying to get anything I can here, okay? Just trying to be normal for you guys. Just trying to be THE BEST I CAN BE, okay? But now I can’t. Because of some bullshit. Where is that fucking thing? Fuck me, I feel like my eyeballs are on fire. What’s it been? An hour? Two days? What’s the date today? May 1st, 1988? I’ve lost three months? You’ve got to be kidding me. Where has the time gone. Is this broadcast over yet? It’s not? Fuck me. Hey, you, sound guy. Yeah, Greg. I know your fucking name, okay. Did you steal the fucking formula? Hey, pull out your pockets. Who do you work for? Where did it go? Okay, I can see you don’t have it. But where the fuck is it? Why are your eyes so red? Don’t look at me like that. I know I said we’d split it and then I didn’t. I’ll find some more. Stop looking at me like that. I’ll find some shit and we can split it. We’ll be okay if we can just find a little shit. We’re in this together. I promise.

 

Today’s broadcast is coming to you from a digital clock radio brought to us by Digital Tech Knowledge E. The E stands for electric, I’m told. It’s a terrible name. Maybe they’ve been doing too much of the DarkMegaCaine themselves. Anyway, the clock radio has the same sound quality you’ve come to love from your digital radios. The speaker should carry my voice just fine. The spec sheet, which I can barely read right now with my eyeballs falling out of my head, says that it should sound pretty good. What the fuck is wrong with the people writing these spec sheets? I mean, I don’t want to spend any more time on this than strictly necessary, but where are the fucking frequency responses? There should be some ohms on here somewhere. Voltages. Electricity stuff. Fucking unbelievable.

 

How are you enjoying the Darkest Universe, shareholders? This is the Darkest Universe. I am quite certain of it. My blood feels like acid running through my veins. I’m itchy and cold, but also burning hot. I’m sweating like my body just realized it doesn’t have any need for liquid anymore. I’m expecting the sweat to turn to steam any moment. I am on fucking fire. Let’s see, I’ve got a couple of morphine left, but I have to finish the announcements before I can shut all of this out for a few hours. Hopefully by then, someone will have figured out where we can get more. I’m sure you’re in the same exact situation shareholders. Last time, instead of the radios we meant to send out, I’m told each one of you received a full kilogram of this shit. Here I was talking into a microphone, and each one of you just started snorting away until it got its chemical hooks into you and now we’re all fucked. If you haven’t touched yours yet, don’t. It’ll fuck you up too bad. But don’t get rid of it. Bring it to me. I am DEFINITELY NOT offering oral sex in exchange for DarkMegaCaine. And it had better be uncut, let me tell you. I’ll know. I’ve been using too much. Adulterants won’t even touch me. You know if I scratch a little, it feels a little better. But… now I’m bleeding. Don’t scratch the itch shareholders. The thing that still confuses me is that, if you got drugs instead of radios last time, then how did we wish ourselves into the Darkest Universe? None of you were hearing me. Perhaps there is something inherent in this molecule that makes Darkest Universes happen. Perhaps we’ve created the perfect chemical gateway. I just wish we could get that damn recipe back. The Universe can be dark without me feeling like I’m going to projectile vomit all of my organs all over the soundproofing in this studio.

 

Coming up we have the Water Festival, shareholders. It will give us a chance to look in on Kakolantis. Boy have things been interesting down there. Recently, they had to plug several enormous holes in the glass keeping the water out after explosives were deregulated.

 

And of course, we’re all looking forward to the nudity festival after that. You know what would make the nudity festival a little better, though? DarkMegaCaine. Motherfuck, I need some more of that fucking shit. Jerry. Greg. Whatever your name is. Cut my mic for a second. I want to scream.

 

(a pause)

 

(dialing)

 

(ringing)

 

Vlad: Hello. You have reached Vladimir Illyich Raskolnikov RasputLenin, Chairman of the DarkMegaKGB. This is… answering machine.

Corin: You DarkMega son of a bitch, I want my fucking DarkMegaCaine. I know things are going to shit for you right now, but you can’t take it out on us like this. Give me my fucking drugs, you animal. DarkMegaCaine will not save your fracturing union you asshole. Oh, and enjoy that brand new fast food restaurant in one of your precious communist countries.

 

Shareholders, we have to find this recipe. We’re searching the building. Right now we’ve got some employees walking around with huge straws stuck in their noses just sniffing every corner of the building. They’re hoping to find a trail to either more drug or the recipe. Vlad probably didn’t steal it. It couldn’t have gotten far.

 

(ringing)

Corin: No one should be calling me right now. This is the middle of a broadcast. Hello?

Sly: Corin, my man, how are things at Kakos Industries?

Corin: Oh. Sylvester. Shareholders, this is Sylvester Sexplosion, CEO of Giant Ass Things in General. Things are awful, Sly.

Sly: I’m sorry to hear that, Corin. Things are fantastic over here at Giant Ass Things in General. You know, I’ve been having some ideas, I wanted to run by you. I’ve been watching some of these crazy Japanimations with my boy, and I thought of some new things to make giant.

Corin: Sly, I’m not really in the best place to do this right now. I can barely focus on the words written in front of me. Also, I’m doing the broadcast.

Sly: Listen, we’ve already got giant deforesters. We’ve already got giant printing presses. We’ve already got giant paper shredders, and by extension, we’ve got giant people shredders. And you’ve helped us make those Evil every step of the way.

Corin: I remember.

Sly: Get this: Giant-Ass Robots.

Corin: I like the sound of it. I would like it more if I still had some DarkMegaCaine and I could think clearly about all of this.

Sly: You ran out?

Corin: You didn’t?

Sly: No… of course I did. It’s all gone. I’m going through terrible withdrawals as we speak. Oh, it burns in my eyes.

Corin: You son of a bitch. You’re holding out. Get over her right now and give me my fucking medicine.

Sly: (snort) I’m fresh out, Corin. Can’t help you there. Goodbye.

(click)

Corin: Fuck you, Sylvester! This is the end of our business relationship.

 

Oh well. The withdrawal will catch up to him, too.

 

Let’s do some other news. It looks like there have been a string of fatal heart attacks all over the Evil world. They’re blaming DarkMegaCaine. Don’t be ridiculous. This drug is perfect and has never hurt anyone. Don’t look at me like that, Jeffrey. Greg. Whatever. Just keep an eye on the levels and don’t make me come in there and strangle you. I’ve got the strength of ten men.

 

It looks like we’re also helping to develop something called the Internet. Some people think it will end up connecting all people. Why on Earth would you want that? It’s bad enough connecting with the people I see in person. And what will they connect over? If the office banter here is any measure, we’ll all just have to deal with Dolores’s fucking cat stories and pictures, and Will’s panicked conservative rants. Perhaps this will be Evil after all.

 

(ringing)

 

Corin: Another fucking phone call. I’m in the middle of a broadcast. WHo could be calling? Hello?

Tatiana: Hello, Mr. Deeth. I am returning phone call.

Corin: Who are you?

Tatiana: I work for DarkMegaUSSR. Vodya cannot be reached right now. He is busy.

Corin: Busy crying his eyes out, I bet. Crying over his broken country. Crying over losing out to capitalism after all.

Tatiana: This was a courtesy, Mr. Deeth. We do not have your recipe for drugs. We recommend that you stop doing drugs. Your Evil output has been subpar. We also hope that you eventually see the light, and that DarkMegaCommunism is only way to future. Goodbye.

 

(click)

 

Fine. They don’t have it. I knew that was a long shot. They’ve got their hands full.

 

I’ve got to find something to take the edge off of this. Even if it’s not as good. Something to stop the burning. The nausea. I’ve already slept with all of my secretaries today. They don’t actually work here, they just like power play or something. Ordinarily, I would ignore them, but I was trying anything I could get my hands on. I’ve tried taking any pills and powders I could find. I’ve got a lot hidden in different places. But my tolerance… It’s just too damn high. Nothing can touch me right now. Joe, I need you to come over here and kick me right in the balls. I need to feel something different. Come on. Come right over here. Greg. Whatever. Kick me right in the family jewels. Hard. What do you mean you won’t? You’ve got to be angry at me, by now. I did your drugs. I didn’t share, and I was a bastard. Now knock some sense into me. Yeah. I know there’s one person I haven’t called. I’m not going to. And asking me to is way worse than a kick in the balls. You son of a bitch. I hate you.

 

Stop looking at me like that. I’m dialing.

 

(dialing)

 

(ringing)

 

Melantha: Hello, Corin.

Corin: Hi, Melantha. Did you steal my drug recipe?

Melantha: Yes.

Corin: Well, there you go, Greg. We’re never getting to the bottom of this. Wait, what did you say?

Melantha: I stole the recipe. I burned it. It’s gone.

Corin: You… You monster. What purpose would you possibly have for doing a thing like that?

Melantha: You’re not doing any Evil. You’re just doing drugs. You’re losing it. You’re just no competition right now, and things are boring.

Corin: I can’t believe you burned it. We needed that.

Melantha: No. You don’t need it. What you need is this moment of clarity. Wake up, Corin. You have to move on.

Corin: I am moving on. I… I WAS moving on.

Melantha: You weren’t. Get clean, Corin. Or just cleaner. As clean as you can get I suppose. And do some damn Evil.

Corin: You’re trying to kill me.

Melantha: Far from it, old man. If you’re so bent on living out your life naturally, then I want you to live as long as possible. Things would get boring without you.

Corin: You’re saying you’d miss me?

Melantha: Miss you? Maybe. Miss the challenge that you pose? Probably. Make sure you keep hydrated. Good luck, Corin.

 

(click)

 

Maybe she’s right. Maybe I need to clean up my act a bit. Maybe then I’ll be able to destroy her once and for all and put all of this behind me.

 

We sprinkled a little DarkMegaCaine on the axle of The Wheel of Misery before giving it a good shove. Maybe I can find a few crumbs over there, now that I think of it. The winner of the drawing was Lore of the Past, Being of Pure Knowledge, or at least that’s what it says here on my paper. The loser, which we always have to have is Brian Bernardini. We don’t know what beef these two have with one another, but it probably has something to do with not sharing drugs. Yes, I know what projection is. Jim, I don’t know why you’re looking at me that way. Greg. Fine. Whatever. When the wheel finally came to a rest after that hell of a bender we sent it on, it arrived at the space for Literary. From now on, Brian Bernardini will be 80% more literary, making him much harder to understand at all times, and Brian will find this new knowledge to be very isolating. And for Evil measure, Lore of the Past, being of Pure Knowledge will be 10% less literary, which, all told, might be worse than becoming more literary, depending on your perspective. Congratulations on the win, and best of luck to all.

 

This brings us to the end of the broadcast. I still feel like I’m fucking melting and there’s just little dribbles of my flesh all over the desk in front of me, and flying off of my lips into the grill of the microphone, but when I look down I see that I am whole. Perhaps melting would be preferable to this feeling. This is something I will look into. Right after I check every single one my stashes for anything at all that will get me through what I am sure is only going to grow more horrifying as the week progresses. The numbers are next.

 

88

14

4

55

66

88

4

33

4

4

3

 

Helena: Hello, my love. I made it inside. Are you ready to be mine forever?

Corin: What the fuck?

 

(sound of bone crunching)

 

Corin: Oh, fuck. Call Dunk. Tell him I’ve got a fresh one.

 

Kakos Industries is written and produced by Conrad Miszuk, who is also the voice of Corin Deeth, and the composer of the music. The introduction is read by Kim Ai, and the credits are read by Kelsey Kemmer, the only person who can’t turn invisible at will. Please visit KakosIndustries.com for news, extras, and more episodes. There are also transcriptions on the website if you’d like to read along with the Kakos Industries announcements. That’s K-A-K-O-S-I-N-D-U-S-T-R-I-E-S dot com. Please visit store.KakosIndustries.com for merchandise and special offers and get wonderful benefits by becoming a subscription donor at kakosindustries.com/patreon. Questions, comments, or a strong desire to collaborate? Drop us a line at inquiries@kakosindustries.com. If you like Kakos Industries, be sure to rate and review us on your favorite podcasting service, and connect with us on YouTube (YouTube.com/KakosIndustries), Facebook (facebook.com/kakosindustries), Tumblr (kakosindustries.tumblr.com), and Twitter (@KakosIndustries). We encourage fan art and listener participation on all our social media platforms. We’ve recently expanded our social media team, so please visit the website to view their credits and current projects.

 

Special thanks to our esteemed shareholders Iain Croall, Renee Stein, Dan Shumway, Blaise Devletian, William Brandon and Courtney Campbell. Also thanks to our honored employee Katiana Greer, who wrestled with the escaped monster that insisted someone wrestle with it before it returned to its cage. And thanks to our Division heads Britney Garcia, head of The Division of Beanies, Booties, and Construction Projects That Are Probably Too Large for Yarn, Patrick Green, head of The Division of Oceanic Micro-Cryptozoology, Lynne Herman, director of the Division of Increasingly Improbable Slash Fiction, Atramento Perdita, head of The Division of Deep Meaning, Euan Goodfield, director of The Division of Ever More Bizarre Injuries, Valerie Koop, Director of the Division of Inappropriate Games to Play in Public, Callie of Scorn, director of The Division or Tabletop Arguments, J.K. Runnings, Director of The Division of Darker Sound, and Danni Auttumns, director of The Division of Unlikely Autocorrect Errors. The Division of Beanies, Booties, and Construction Projects That Are Probably Too Large for Yarn has knit approximately three-quarters of the floating fortress. It looks like you would imagine a floating fortress to look. During a birthday party. There’s a lot of balloons tied in strategic places The Division of Oceanic Micro-Cryptozoology has actually produced the TigerPanther Fungus. In a lab. They made it. With genetic engineering. Kind of defeats the purpose. The Division of Increasingly Improbable Slash Fiction has recently started shipping laser attachments and the animal kingdom. While we are all excited to see how this one goes, we know that this is not a match that is meant to be. The Division of Deep Meaning has claimed a connection between that incredibly familiar memory that you are quite certain never happened, and the smell of nutmeg. Maybe the nutmeg triggered the memory? We’re not sure, but we will continue to ponder. The Division of Ever More Bizarre Injuries has given someone with a case of the upsiedownies a case of the upsiedownies. This is a substantial improvement over their last installment, but we’re thinking that the person might just be right side up again. They assure us that, despite appearances, the person is still somehow “wrong”. The Division of Inappropriate Games to Play in Public has invented strip I spy. Never before has that doctor’s office waiting room seen so much skin, and apparently so little else. You see, the joke is that if they spied anything, they would stay clothed. The Division or Tabletop Arguments has recently improved upon the metric vs. imperial argument by bringing it to the world of tabletop roleplaying maps. Sure, we’re all used to imperial, but metric is the standard of science. Yes we know that this game is fantasy and not science fiction. No they don’t make graph paper in barleycorns. The Division of Darker Sound has created a new plugin for digital audio workstations that will take any sound you feed it, and make it even danker and darker. In practice, this involves rolling of the highs, adding a little distortion, and a bit of saturation for warmth in the cold, cold depths.  The Division of Unlikely Autocorrect Errors recently patched some phones to correct the word “pineapple” to the phrase “enormous multi-colored sex toys”. We don’t know yet if the party guests would prefer fresh or canned enormous multi-colored sex toys on their pizzas, but we are certain they will get back to us soon. Our esteemed shareholders, honored employees, division heads, and other Patreon patrons are the best. If you want a thank you in the credits, your own division, or other great rewards that help to keep this show running, please head to Kakosindustries.com/patreon. That’s Patreon: p-a-t-r-e-o-n.

 

Kakos Industries can be heavy sometimes. Try eating your favorite foods to take your mind off of it.