1.04 - Reviews

Hello, listeners. It is midnight in the mountains once again, and I, Julian Glass, am here to hush your nocturnal souls.

[intro]

[frustrated] Listeners, have you ever had to sift through reviews of a business to see whether you want to purchase their services? Shinji and I are looking for a landscaper. We’re sick of mowing the yard, and, well, it’s better for the environment to rip up all the non-native grass and put in some native plants anyway. Especially if you like pollinators! But looking through the reviews is so frustrating and time-consuming. I mean, listen to this review of Tony’s Total Landscaping:

“I hired this business to, well, landscape my yard. I wanted them to plant flowerbeds around the edge of my yard and replace the mangy turf that was left. What they did was shocking: they put in a patio and retaining wall, installed an irrigation system, and mowed, edged, and fertilized our lawn. They did essentially everything but what we asked. The yard looks amazing. It’s still mangy-looking, so the mowing and edging was pretty worthless, but again: a—maz—ing. I love it. Don’t love the bill.”

I’m…not sure how the reviewer actually felt about the yard, listeners. You know how there are usually stars above the text of the review that the reviewer can select to their rating? Instead of stars, there is just an image of a coal miner sitting on the curb, contemplating his existence while behind him a velociraptor terrorizes the town. The velociraptor is devouring someone’s homemade apple pie while wearing a blond wig it found.

[interlude]

All right, listeners, let’s move on to what’s going on around town. Let’s see… Carter Bycofski and his boyfriends are playing an air hockey tournament and getting buzzed. Each of them sports feathery boas of various colors alongside boater hats and shutter glasses. 2010s fashion in a nutshell.

Sophia Barnes is up late nurturing her creative spirit. She acts out her part in a play, making big sweeping gestures and projecting her voice so her audience of stuffed animals and ceramic horses can hear her well.

My neighbor Sushila Patel sprawls on her couch, enveloped in the world of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. She smiles at a joke from the show. Slowly her eyes drift closed. Good night, Sushila.

Hm. Sorry if I seem distracted, listeners, I’m still wrapped up in thinking about getting a landscaper. Here’s another review I read:

“My trees and shrubs were in desperate need of pruning. Keyes and Sons sure got it done! One of my shrubs was supposed to be a duck. It looks more like a goose—and I hate geese! They defecate everywhere, they hiss at me every time I walk by, they smell—and now my shrub has started to do the same! Keyes and Sons did a highly unsatisfactory job.”

Ugh. Not going with that company, then. I hate geese as well. Nasty creatures.

And now, a word from tonight’s sponsor: somewhere, a woman drives her car. It is an old car, one she inherited from her mother. She has yet to be able to afford a newer, nicer car. But this one will do. It has done, at least. The woman contemplates her destination, and what she will do when she arrives. Nerves flutter in her stomach. She is meeting a potential colleague for breakfast in an informal interview of sorts. This interview for a position that is as close to a dream job as one who does not dream of working merely to survive can come up with. The woman anxiously runs through answers to questions she may or may not be asked. “Better safe than sorry” is one of her mottos. “Best to be prepared” is another. She pulls her car into the parking lot of Bob Evans. Everybody is somebody.

Earlier today, the community center put on a science exhibition, where people of all ages could come and watch and even learn to perform various science experiments. Alejandra—my necromancer scientist friend—had a booth, so Shinji and I went to check it out. It was really cool, listeners. She wore typical protective gear—safety glasses, a lab coat, a hard hat, fingerless gloves, and Chaco Z Sandals—though she made sure to explain she didn’t really need to wear them for the day’s experiments, she just wanted people to have a glimpse into the typical workday of a scientist. Her demonstrations were simple but fascinating. She showed interested folks how to split atoms, create earthquakes, and resurrect bugs you may have accidentally squished.

There was one booth set up by Mercy Mountain Community College zoology professor Nicholas Wilson, where Nicholas performed vivisections on stuffed animals and showed everyone all their internal organs one by one.

Another booth was run by meteorologist Janet Gourse. I wasn’t particularly interested in that one, but she summoned a powerful wind to shove me over to it, just like she did everyone else who walked by. Then she struck with lightning anyone who didn’t show enough interest in the booth once they were there.

All right, let’s take a look at another review:

“Wallace Landscaping applied insecticide to our lawn. This insecticide came in the form of bats. Lots of bats. The landscapers placed sleeping bats under the siding of our house, which have swarmed out every night since. It is impossible to walk out at night without getting struck by a flapping creature. One of them even bit me! I had to get rabies shots, which were terrible. But the bugs quickly disappeared! I also developed a terrible rash at the site of the bite. My doctor told me not to worry and gave me a cream for the rash. The cream made me bleed profusely from the bite wound, so I had to stop using it. But I have no complaints—the bugs are gone, just like I asked! Then the rash began to swell until my arm was three times the size it was supposed to be. I went to urgent care, and the doctor gave me antibiotics. The antibiotics did seem to help, and the swelling in my arm went down. However, the medications also made me obsessed with bicycle helmets, as they are wont to do. I give Wallace Landscaping five stars! Would suffer again.”

Hm. That’s one of the more positive ones I’ve seen so far. I’ll definitely put Wallace Landscaping on the list of finalists.

Working more on that list is for another time, listeners. But now, this moment, it is time to relish the night. Curl up under your blankets, sigh contentedly, and avoid looking at the lights bobbing in the mountains.

Stay tuned for me, eating potato chips directly into the microphone for forty minutes. Have a wonderful rest of your night, Mercy Mountain.