Archive for Holiday

PseudoPod 697: Five Fridays During Lent

Show Notes

Spoiler Inside SelectShow

Five Fridays During Lent

by Christine Lucas


You beg your son to try just one spoonful. He doesn’t. He sits rigid, his palms on his thighs, his almost-glassy, bloodshot eyes fixed ahead. There’s nothing there, only the old armoire filled with mothball-smelling clothes from three generations back. You try passing the spoonful beneath his nose. He loved your magiritsa, your son.

Perhaps a story will do the trick, just like when he was a child? The war robbed you of husband, brothers, savings, dignity, even fairytales. So instead you tell him about your day: how the butcher gave you the stink-eye when you asked for lamb’s offal. Lent has just started, and you’re making Easter Sunday soup already? When you mention it’s for your son, the war hero, he nods and brings what you asked. His own son returned from the war damaged as well—more than yours, and this simple knowledge fills your heart with guilt and relief in equal parts.

Your boy didn’t return wearing his shroud. When he slurps a spoonful of barely-cooked lamb’s innards, you tell yourself that all will be fine. (Continue Reading…)

CatsCast 289: The Thing in the Basement


All cat stories start with this statement: “My mother, who was the first cat, told me this…”

It is said that in Ulthar, which lies beyond the river Skai, no man may kill a cat; and this I can verily believe as I gaze upon him who sitteth purring before the fire. For the cat is cryptic, and close to strange things which men cannot see. He is the soul of antique Aegyptus, and bearer of tales from forgotten cities in Meroe and Ophir. He is the kin of the jungle’s lords, and heir to the secrets of hoary and sinister Africa. The Sphinx is his cousin, and he speaks her language; but he is more ancient than the Sphinx, and remembers that which she hath forgotten.

(Continue Reading…)

PseudoPod 681: A Night of Many Months


A Night of Many Months

by C.L. Holland


He’d wondered, when he started the job, why he needed a belt with so many holes.  Now he knew–it fitted around him twice and felt like it needed tightening again.  It took months to visit every home in one night and he’d lived every minute, surviving on what was left for him.  In some houses it was mince pies and a glass of sherry.  In others milk and cookies, and a carrot for the reindeer.

In most, it was nothing at all. (Continue Reading…)

PseudoPod 680: The Wild Wood

Show Notes

Do you find most perfumes reek of banality and bad French puns?  Do you want perfumes that resonate with your dark heart and blackened soul?  Do you want perfume that speaks to you, the discerning PseudoPod listener?

Allow me to introduce you to the fine perfumers of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab.  Black Phoenix’s fragrances take inspiration from grand myths and tall tales, the height of camp to the depths of decadence, the lightest of fantasy to the blackest of horror.  You can experience scents based0 n titans of literature like William Shakespeare, Lewis Carroll, and H. P. Lovecraft to modern storytellers like Clive Barker, Kelly Sue DeConnick, and Neil Gaiman.

Their perfume oils are lovingly hand-blended using only the finest ingredients.   Based in the City of Angels, they will send their creations far and wide to satisfy your needs.  Peruse their vast catalog for enticing aromas or maybe some nail polish, atmosphere sprays, candles, and other sundries.  You can also travel to live events and sample their wares and meet the staff in the flesh.

All this and more can be found at blackphoenixalchemylab.com.  So go ahead, indulge yourself.


The Wild Wood

by Mildred Clingerman


It seemed to Margaret Abbott that her children, as they grew older, clung more and more jealously to the family Christmas traditions. Her casual suggestion that, just this once, they try something new in the way of a Christmas tree met with such teen-age scorn and genuine alarm that Margaret hastily abandoned the idea. She found it wryly amusing that the body of ritual she herself had built painstakingly through the years should now have achieved sacrosanctity. Once again, then, she would have to endure the secret malaise of shopping for the tree at Cravolini’s Christmas Tree Headquarters. She tried to comfort herself with the thought that one wretchedly disquieting hour every year was not too much to pay for her children’s happiness. After all, the episode always came far enough in advance of Christmas so that it never quite spoiled the great day for her. (Continue Reading…)