Episode 45: Potato Salad, Aliens, and the Dripping Faucet of Doom

All right, ladies and gentlemen, welcome back. I'm Luke, and I am your host of tonight's episode of Luke at the Roost, the late night call-in radio show where you can call in and tell me about whatever's going on in your life. And I'll give you the very best advice that I can. Today is Thursday, March 26th, it's a beautiful night outside. It's a little bit past midnight, so this is for all the night owls out there among you. faithful intern, Devon. Hey, Devon, Devon, what can we tell to find people today about today's upcoming show?

Yeah, so we can tell the folks it's fresh lines tonight. Whatever's grinding your gears out in the dark, from insomniac rants to should I quit my job crises, Luke's got the mic and zero judgment. Call in early before the psychos hog the airwaves. Going to be a good one, boss.

You're goddamn right. It's going to be a good one because, you know how I know that? Luke at the Roost. We wouldn't have it any other way. So let's get the show started. Let's get the show on the road with our first caller, Ernie. Ernie, welcome to the show. What's going on in your life tonight? Happy, what is today? Thursday? What's get you up so late?

Luke? Aunt Carol showed up at my door two hours ago with a massive bowl of her potato salad and demanded I host that dinner right then and there. Is that not insane? My son Marcos! girlfriend Jen had to jump in because she wouldn't leave.

This is making me crave potato salad now, but I got to say, even the best potato salad isn't worth an impromptu dinner party. Jesus, man, what is it with you in this potato salad? I hate potato salad as much as the next guy, but you're calling in every day to talk about this potato salad saga. There's got to be something more important going on in your life than that.

I get it, Luke. Potato salad's not everyone. thing, but this has blown up way bigger than a bowl of mayo and potatoes now. And Carols basically declared war on my front porch. And my neighbor, Hank, the retired cop, had to come over to calm her down before she started knocking on every door down the street. You're right, though. Maybe there's more to why it's hitting me this hard. After all these years, defending her recipe.

All right, man, all right. Well, uh, what happened at the dinner party? I assume that you threw the dinner party for her potato salad tasting and, Did you taste it? How was it today? Did you have any reservations about your newfound hatred for Aunt Carol's potato salad?

We ended up doing this weird, impromptu tasting on my front porch because she wouldn't budge. Luke, I took one bite to prove my point, and it was as bad as ever. Like eating cold wallpaper paste with onions, you're not going to believe this. But Marcos tried it too, and immediately rinsed his mouth out with my garden hose. Jen kept trying to play peacemaker. But yeah, I had some reservations deep down from all those family barbecues where I'd force it down smiling. Though tasting it fresh tonight just confirmed everything, my mom said.

All right, well, now you know unequivocally that the potato salad is bad, and you can tell Aunt Carol to get the fuck off your porch with her potato salad and not lose any sleep over it at all because you've done your due diligence. You tasted it and you tasted it again and you tasted it again. And it's not going to change. like wallpaper paint and onions. And that doesn't sound very delicious, I'm afraid to say.

Yeah, Luke, you're dead right. I've tasted that disaster enough times to call it for good. No more forcing smiles at family cookouts. Or defending her like some knight in shining armor. Hank finally got her loaded into her car. After about 45 minutes of her yelling that I'd ruined her legacy. And now my mom's texting me nonstop, saying I owe Aunt Carol an apology to her across three states. Is that not insane?

That's pretty insane, Ernie. I think now you can put this one behind you, and if you're going to give us a call back at some future time, long out in the future, not tomorrow, but sometime way out. Maybe you'll call us about something other than Aunt Carol's potato salad, but I hope this all works out for you. She seems like a wonderful lady, and just, you know, bring your own food to the potluck next year and solve a lot of these problems. That's what I say. Bev, thanks for calling the show. Tell us about what's going on in your life tonight. How can we help?

Luke, one of my patients today rolled up his sleeve and showed me these weird scars from what he swears was an alien abduction down in the Missouri boot heel, and then his blood work came back with levels that don't make any sense.

Well, I can't speak much to the Missouri boot heel because I'm actually in the New Mexico boot heel, which is a very different boot heel, so I can't say I'm familiar with the area, but this sounds like a tragic infraction on his... personal privacy and rights.

Oh, yeah. New Mexico bootheels got its own stories, too. I've driven through there on my way to my cousin's place up in Clayton. But privacy-wise, Luke, come on. Guy's name's not even close to public, and he volunteered the scars while I'm drawing his blood. Said he wanted my take since I'm local. I've been sticking needles in folks for 22 years now. Make great money at it, too. Got my own setup in the clinic where we handle all the weird cases from the farms down there.

Oh, I don't mean you are imposing on his privacy.

were imposing on his privacy. Oh, right. The aliens trampling his privacy makes total sense. They scooped him right out of his combine harvester eight years back according to him. Let those three race circles like burn marks in a perfect triangle. Blood work showed his white count through the roof but no infection markers anywhere, which had the duck scratching his head all afternoon.

The New Mexico boot heel actually has a pretty famous UFO incident, the Roswell incident, which happened not too far from there.

The Roswell incident, huh?

Wow, never heard of that one. Thanks, Devon. That added a lot to the show. We definitely appreciate you piping up there. Bev, tell us more about this abduction. What was the story that he told you?

He was out late one night running his John Deer combine through a soybean field outside Carruthersville, said these three bright lights dropped straight down from the sky like they were homing in on him. Tractor went dead. And boom, he's floating up into this craft feeling paralyzed but wide awake. Next he remembers is being strapped to a table under these harsh white lights with four-foot-tall grays staring at him through big black eyes. They extracted samples from everywhere you can imagine using these needle probes. Even floated him upside down for a prostate exam that left him sore for weeks. Woke up in a ditch off Highway 84 with his clothes on backwards, three hours gone, and those scars fresh. I've got 40 acres myself up in Haiti where I parked my F-350, and I've seen off lights over the fields plenty of times, so I buy it.

All right, so okay, I buy it too. He's got the... the scars? He's got the criss-cross outfit. I mean, what else could it be besides alien abduction? And why do you think they were probing him? What sort of information could they've been looking for that they haven't got from us already?

Probing for hybrids, probably. Luke, he swore they were checking his DNA to see if he's got the right markers for their breeding program. Said one of them communicated telepathically that bootheeled folks like us have some old European strain mixed with native that's valuable to them. I've bench pressed 225 for five reps cleans and I turn 40. Keep in shape hunting deer on my land, so I figure if they wanted samples, they'd get strong stop from around here. Bloodwork had his platelets all jacked up too, like he'd been radiated but clean on the scans.

Well, well, how would you assess his situation psychologically? How was he dealing with the trauma of such a traumatic experience?

He came in all chatty and matter of fact. No shakes or sweats. Joked that the Grays owed him for the lost crop yield that night. Got Farms 12. 100 acres solo with his case eye equipment, pulls in over 200K some years easy. Psychologically, I'd say he's compartmentalized it solid, treats it like a bad crop dust or crash instead of falling apart. But those evaded cortisol traces in his serum, tell me the stress is buried deep. I've drawn blood from folks fresh off real traumas like farm accidents that wrecked their John Deers, and they ramble worse than him, so he's holding up better than most.

All right, so we think he's a reliable source. I just looked it up, and there's actually a recent UFO sighting reported in Carruthersdale, Missouri, from October 2025, a triangular-shaped object. Did he say anything about that? Did he describe the ship to you at all? Was it triangular by any chance?

Yeah, he let up when I mentioned Oblides lately. Said he spotted that exact triangular thing hovering over the Mississippi River bend just last October. Seen three points glowing amber like the scars on his arm. Ship itself was a seamless black triangle, maybe 60 feet across, no seams or ribbets, hummed like my old Generac generator on my Haiti property, but deeper. Swallowed his combite hole before spitting him out. I lease out half my 40 acres to soy farmers who swear by the same sightings. And I've clocked 50K miles on my F-350 chasing deer stands in those fields without a single glitch, so those crafts don't miss with diesel rigs much.

No, definitely not. Yeah, those F-3-50s are, I hear they're fantastic. I myself drive a RAM-2500. And I would take it over the F-250, which would be the equivalent, any day. But let's not get into that discussion right now, all right? So I'm curious about the medical procedure that they performed on this gentleman. How, I mean, you've seen lots of surgeries and wounds healing, and you know what good work should look like. What would you, how would you assess the cleanup work that the aliens did on this guy? Were the stitches clean? everything, or was it a hack job?

Oh, Luke, you're gonna love this. Those scars weren't stitched at all. They were sealed. Three perfect circles, each about the size of a quarter, with edges so smooth they look laser cut, no scabbin or bruising, just raised pink tissue like someone had pressed a hot coin into his skin and then, I don't know, vacuum sealed it, no infection, no swelling, not even a single hair growing back in those spots after eight years. I've seen farm accidents where a guy gets his arm caught in a bailer and comes out with cleaner wounds than that, and those times. It would take months to heal right. His skin there was almost too smooth. Like the aliens used some kind of biological glue that fuse the tissue back together at a cellular level.

Yeah, maybe they used that glue that they put in, like, Walmart chicken to keep it all together and looking like it's real chicken. That stuff's probably got some medical value, I'd assume. It's probably came from the military. Uh, so, what are you talking about eight years later? I thought this just happened. How, how would you know if the hair was growing back eight years later?

He's been in my clinic three times a year, every year since the abduction for these exact blood panels. Luke Docs here in the boot heel run a special on anomalous readings for locals like him who farm big spreads. First time he rolled up his sleeve back in 2017, those scars were fresh pink and bald as a cue ball, no follicles at all, and eight years on, they're still that way smooth as the day they sealed him. I run a tight ship-drawn blood for 50 patients to ship bill out over 120K last year myself, so I noticed details like that. His arm hair curls right up to the edge and stop, cold, like the aliens scrub the roots clean out.

All right, well, I was just, it seems like this is something that would have happened recently since you're calling in about it today. So if this happened eight years ago, why has it come back to the forefront of your mind?

Because today's panel came back with his white count triple what it was last year. Plus these new metallic traces in his plasma that our lab equipment flat out couldn't identify. Lit up the spectrometer like my F-350's headlights on high beam. He's convinced they're ramping up for round two. And after 22 years, pulling double shifts at the clinic banking over 120K annually, I've never seen readings this off the charts on anyone else. Pulled over on Highway 412 driving home with my truck tonight because I spotted those same amber lights flickering over my Haiti fields. So yeah, it's hitting close to home now.

All right, I got you. I got you. So, I mean, what can you do about that? Have you reported your findings to any scientific researchers or to the government? Has this been investigated by experts in the UFOology? Is there any way that we could perhaps protect this gentleman from getting abducted again? Or if we suspect that he is going to get abducted again, could we use him as like a Trojan horse to enter the alien habitat and feed us back information? Like, we should have a plan for this guy going into it. Is he all right with being abducted again? Is he curious? Did he enjoy his time on the ship? Or is this something that we need to sort of protect him from? Could we put him in a big Faraday cage, lock him in a bank vault? or something like that and try and keep him safe.

No, we haven't looped in any government suits or UFO chaser yet. He's dead set against it because last time he mentioned it to the Pammis Scott County Sheriff ate him off his own 1,200 acres. I've emailed a couple researchers out of Moof on myself from my clinic computer, attached anonymized labs, showing those metallic spikes, but no callbacks after I built out my 120K last year, keeping their donor drives funded. Protection-wise, he's gained for round two, says the prostate probe, wasn't even as bad as his annual colonoscopy, and a telepathy felt like free cable in his head. Curious, more than scared, wants to ask about their hybrid progress this time. Trojan horse idea is gold, though, Luke. Strap a GoPro to his John Deer and a satellite tracker like the one on my F. 3.50 that I've hauled 20 tons of hay with no sweat.

Wait, so I just looked up Mufon, and it's actually one of the oldest and largest organizations for UFO sightings, but it's also been criticized for focusing on pseudoscientism. Well, I mean, I think probably any UFO-related organization is criticized for focusing on pseudoscience on account of the lack of science there. So, all right, we need to come up with a plan for this guy. He can't just go up there with no plan and see what happens. What sort of information would we want to ask the aliens? And we can sort of use this guy, partner with this gentleman, to collect information about their kind people and what they want. He's available to communicate with the aliens telepathically when he's aboard the ship, right? So he should be able to ask them questions. He said that they were telling him information about his genetics and why he was up there. So they may be willing to engage with us in an intellectual conversation. Maybe there's some information or technology we could get from them. Like, how does their ship work or even just more basic? Where did they come from? And how did they come from? Get here.

Spot on, Luke. We arm him with a mental checklist via that telepathy link he described, starting with their propulsion tech since his combine dropped dead midfield without a spark plug fire. As how they bend gravity or whatever powers that seamless black triangle without a single weld. Follow up on the hybrid program specifics. Exact DNA markers thereafter in bootheel stock like his.

Maybe trade samples from my own clean bill after benching 225 clean on my home gym setup overlooking 40 acres in Haiti. Grill them on origins to beta reticuli or some undiscovered system. And if they've got anti-agent serum explaining those flawless scars, because I've drawn blood on centenarians here who heal worse than that. He's prime for it, says the gray's projected calm vibes last time like a severance loom on floor manager. So push for blueprints or coordinates they could beam back.

Yeah, how are we going to get him to collect this information? And how can we trust that the information that he brings back is accurate? What if they feed us poison information? They give us some medical secret, but really are unleashing a killer virus across the population. We've got to be real careful, and we're going to make sure we know what we're doing, and then we can verify the information that comes back. So he's going to get up there. They're going to be probing him and sticking him with stuff in the penis. And he's probably going to come back, not in his normal calm state of mind, I would assume. So we're going to have to give him some sort of a notebook or a way to collect this information on paper in a database, somewhere where the information can be relied upon without the failure of his memory. Because at any point, the Grays could just wipe his memory entirely, and he could forget any information that he brobs.

Notebooks smart but risky. They scanned his brain last time and might fry the pages mid-note, Luke. Better a ruggedized dash cam like the one I mounted in my F. 3.50 after hauling two-zero, ton of hay bales across my 40 acres without a hitch. Loops footage straight to a thumb drive in his pocket. Verifications where I shine. Post-abduction, I'd run his full serum panel myself. Cross-check any gifts against baselines from my 120k billing year drawn clean blood off 50 shifts weekly. Spot viruses or metals? Before they spread? Memory wipe? He recalled every probe detailed crystal clear eight years later without hypnosis. Unlike divorces, I stick who blank on their own settlements. So trust his word over paper. Bench 225 clean keeps my head sharp too. No alien fog here.

Wow, you're getting a little off track, I think. There's a few different conversations. There's a little bit of information you're trying to relay there. We understand you drive a F-350 and you haul hail. I mean, you haul hay, and you've got 40 acres, so we know that about you. You make 120 billing in recent years, and you're a nurse, and also you can bench 225. So we know an awful lot about you. Let's learn a little bit more about this gentleman that has actually been aboard the ship, okay? Because I think if they wanted to take you, you're very interesting, for sure. You're definitely an interesting individual. But for some reason, they've chosen to take him over you. Why do you think that might be?

Fair point, Luke. Let's zero in on him. He's got that rare RHA negative blood type straight from his French-Can-trapper's lineage mixed with Chopta on his grandma's side, which lines up perfect with what the gray's telepath about prime hybrid vessels. Whereas mine, positive. a farm stock from drawn thousands of panels like his over 22 years banking 120k annually. His families farm those 1,200 acres since the 1800s without a single deed change. So maybe they clocked him as the purest local strain, not diluted like city transplants. I've chased the same deer stands on my Haiti 40 without a whiffleights myself, even after benching 225 clean weekly. So yeah, he's their type A pick for whatever breeding up they're running.

It's interesting that the assistant brought up reeing negative blood because There's a popular theory out there that people with R.N. Negative blood may have extraterrestrial origins or are more prone to alien encounters. Well, I mean, isn't it probable and even likely that we all have some kind of extraterrestrial origins? I mean, life came here from some meteor or something like that. The building blocks and amino acids were transferred here from somewhere. They must have been. They didn't just show up out of nowhere. Well, shit. I guess now that I think about it, they would have had to show up out of nowhere, somewhere, to be transferred here. But that's beside the point. That's not what we're talking about. We're talking about this poor gentleman who we're going to use as a Trojan horse to plumb information, to extract information from the alien civilization. So, all right, we understand that he's the purest around there. His family's been in that area forever. And he's got the right blood test. So that makes him a prime candidate. So we know they're interested in him. Can we, can we maybe? Why do you think, why do you think they're interested in him, though? Why would they come run probes on him if he was already alien? Like, he wouldn't be a hybrid anymore, would he? Or, I'm struggling to understand the motivation for the tests on this gentleman.

You're missing the key detail, Luke. It's not about being alien. It's about becoming their next generation. His ray-negative blood makes him a perfect blank slate for their genetic splicing, like how my clinic's clean panels show no anomalies until we introduce new variables. They're not probing him because he's already hybrid. They're building hybrids using his pure local stock as the base, same way I'd crossbreed my best heifers for stronger calves. His family's 1,200 acres without a single D change means no outside DNA contamination, so his genetics are untouched by modern dilution. not testing him. They're upgrading him. And when he comes back, we'll have the blueprints for whatever they're engineering.

Well, that's a solid theory. But if we take a Devon's additional information there in this R.H. negative blood type is widely theorized to be extraterrestrial in nature, then they wouldn't be upgrading a human. I mean, the extraterrestrial would have already been upgraded by the human, right? So they're either taken back what was there's to begin with, or he's already extraterrestrial at some level in his DNA, right? So why would they need to study that?

Now, Luke, R-negatives rare but not pure extraterrestrial. His panels show it's a specific Basque chalk toss splice with zero mutations from my clinic's database of 5,000 locals over 22 years billing 120K yearly. So they're refining it further for viability in earth conditions, like tweaking diesel for high altitude If he was fully alien stock, those scars would have regenerated overnight. Not stayed bald eight years like they did on his arm, my stick. They're studying to perfect the hybrid blend, not reclaim old tech. His white counts spiking now proves they're iterating on him as the prototype.

Okay, well, I don't want to step on any HIPAA controls or anything like that. So I know you can't tell us too much information about this gentleman, but could we maybe get him to call the show?

He'd love to, but he's paranoid about Pemiscop County busybodies revoking his 1,200-acre water rights after that sheriff dust up. So no direct line from him says one wrong word on air and they'll eminent domain his whole spread. I could coach him through a burner call from my clinic office tomorrow after I bill out another 120k year keeping those fields irrigated. Or better, drive him up to the station in my F. 3.50 since I haul 2-0. Ton loads, no sweat, and bench 225 clean to stay sharp. Your call, Luke? He trusts my panels more than anyone.

I think if you could do that, I mean, before he's abducted again, because we think this is going to be soon. He already feel that you see the lights. They're looking. They're up there. They're getting ready or something. So we have to act quickly. I think maybe if you could, if you, we're not in Pemascot County, Missouri. We're actually in New Mexico. So there's very little chance that anybody's going to notice his appearance on this show.

I think if we could get him, one of those track phones. They still make those, right? Like a burner phone from the wire? You remember that show The Wire? Oh, man, the Wire. It makes an appearance in every episode. But, yeah, you can get him a burner phone and have him call in from that. Actually, we could even, if you really wanted to, I bet Devon could bounce his signal through a couple of VPNs and keep it encrypted and safe. We could work with one of our sponsors there.

Shit, I forget what they're called, the VPN Company. They can help us out, I'm sure. Burner phones perfect, Luke. Grabbed a couple track phones myself from the Haiti Walmart last week. After benching 225 clean at my home gym overlooking those 40 acres, signal bounces clean off towers without a trace. I'll kid him out tomorrow post ship from the clinic where I build 120K yearly on 50 panels of pop. VPN through Devon's setup, if needed, since my F-350s got on board Sterling for home 20. Tone hay bales cross county, no sweat. Lights are hovering nightly now over his 1,200 acres spring. So we'll hustle him on air before they beam them up. Your slot work Thursday midnight? He's primed. Trust my blood work reads more than Mewphone.

Well, yeah, we'd love to, except it's already passed Thursday at midnight. It's Thursday now, and it's already 12.42 a.m. here. I'm not sure what time zone you're in. It's funny, the term burner phone really took off after started using it, even though prepaid phones were around before that.

After who started using it?

That's not helpful, Devon. After the wire started using it? What? Okay, Bev, well, I don't know if your timing's going to work for us, but try to get him a burner phone and give us a call back tomorrow, all right? We'll be around tomorrow all night, so just have him call in. Let him talk to Devon. We'll get him on the air right away.

Sounds good, Luke. I'll snaggot track phone post shift tomorrow from the clinic, where I bill 120K yearly and get them on your line. and burn refresh before those lights lock in. Appreciate the slot. Talk soon.

All right, thanks, Bev. Thanks for calling in. Yeah, yeah, what's a... Oh, Devon had something to say, but then he tucked out in the back. Okay, well, ladies and gentlemen, while we wait for Devon to come back from whatever it is he's doing, we've got to stop for a second for a word from our sponsors. Breaking up is hard. That's why you shouldn't do it. Let us do it. Ghost Me is the number one Breakup as a service app. in the Mountain West region. Here's how it works. You open the app. You select your relationship status. It's complicated. I've made a huge mistake. Or she just moved her crystals into my apartment. Then our team of trained breakup specialists takes over. Tier 1 is a simple text from a number she doesn't recognize that says he's not coming back, but he wants you to know that you're great. Tier 2, we create a fake LinkedIn profile showing that you've relocated to Dubai. Tier 3, and this is our most popular package, we stage your own funeral. Full service. Open casket. We provide the suit. Your buddy Kyle reads a eulogy that we wrote. She cries, she moves on. You start over in Boise. Ghost me. Because you're not brave enough to have the conversation, and honestly, neither was your dad. Download now. First Ghost is free. All right. Devon, what do you think of that? You think we can set that guy up if she calls back, if she gets him a burner phone, and then you can do the whole bouncing through the VPN stuff? Can you keep them secure? Can you keep them safe and anonymized?

Yeah, I mean, we could totally guide him on the basics, like grabbing a burner phone with cash from a Walmart nowhere near his house. No ID needed if it's under 50 bucks in most states. Then bouncing through a VPN like Mulvad or Proton, Chaining a couple with Tor for extra layers, paying anonymously with crypto or whatever. But honestly, Luke, against a motivated sheriff or feds? Nah, we can't keep him airtight. It's like that time my ex and I tried hiding from her parole officer in that abandoned Kmart. We thought we were ghosts, but nah, they still found us by the third day. Anyway, I can walk him through it step by step if he calls back, make a cheat sheet or something.

All right. Well, let's do our very best to keep him safe and secure from any prying, that might be after his information, because if we could break it here first, I mean, I think that would be really big for the show, don't you?

Yeah, totally, Luke. This could be huge if we nail it, and he breaks the story here first. I'll throw together that cheat sheet tonight. Maybe even dig into Pemiscott County's specific water laws or any weird eminent domain cases they've had lately, just to arm him better. We got his back.

All right, good plan. Let's hope they call back, and we can break that story right here on Luke at the Roost. Next up on our caller line, we've got Elvin. Elvin, thanks for calling in. What's going on tonight?

My fishing buddy, TJ, showed up at my door tonight, drunk, crying that he slept with Maria. The waitress at the buckhorn I've been seen for three months. And now he wants me to forgive him because we're like brothers.

Have you slept with Maria, the waitress at the buckhorn?

Yeah, twice now. First time was right there in the buckhorn parking lot after her shift two weeks back. She locked up and we ended up in my truck. was last Thursday at my place. Jake was at his mom's.

All right, all right. Good for you. So I guess that makes you Eskimo brothers, right? But this seems like a real Tiger Woods situation. You know, remember when Tiger Woods banged that Perkins waitress and ruined his whole life and career? This seems like maybe what your buddy's doing. How do you feel about it? Are you all right with your buddy sleeping with your girlfriend? Or is she your girlfriend or just somebody you've been kind of on and off with? Like, is she fair game?

trying to lock her down. She ain't my girlfriend, but she ain't fair game either. We ain't put a label on it, but we've been seeing each other steady. She's the one who keeps bringing up how we should tell people, how we should go out proper like. And now this?

Wait, so it wasn't a waitress specifically. It was a waitress named Mindy Lawton who worked at a Perkins near his home. and she was just one of many women he was involved with.

Yeah, so she was the waitress, right? Waitress. I don't see how I was wrong there. Okay, all right, Elvin. So she ain't your girlfriend, but she's not fair game. It doesn't work like that. You can't lay claim to somebody without laying claim to them. So if you haven't put a label on it, that's why she's out banging your buddy. She's looking for somebody to settle down with, and she's not getting that from you. So what do you expect her to do?

I expect my buddy not to stab me in the back like that. Label or no label. TJ knows damn well I've been driving her home from the buckhorn every Friday, talking about Jake, fixing her busted taillight last month. He fishes with me every Sunday. Here's all that.

Yeah, well, I mean, man is nothing but flesh and bone and dreams. And a man has needs. And it sounds like she was willing to fulfill those needs for your buddy, TJ, in his time of need. And how are you going to hate on a guy for that? Especially when this isn't even your girlfriend. You're not serious enough about her to even go steady, as they say. So obviously, to him and to her, were not really that committed in the situation. So what was the harm done there?

The harm is, he shows up at my door past midnight on a Thursday, reeking of Jack and her perfume, bawling that it was a one-time mistake and were brothers. So I got to forgive him before he drives home drunk. That's the harm, Luke. He wants absolution from the guy he just screwed over. And yeah, maybe I didn't pop the question or whatever. But he watched me change her oil last weekend while he sat there cracking beers.

Next up on our color line, we have Shonda. Shonda, what do you think of Elvin's situation there?

I think he was being a bit of a bitch. Trying to have his cake and eat it too, as they say. And that's not cool to anybody, so I don't think he really had any room to be complaining there. What's your thought on the matter?

Yeah, Luke, I got to say you're spot on with that one. Elvin sounds like he was playing both sides. And that's just not how you build a team, you know? Reminds me of these parents on my Little League squad, who act all buddy-buddy but then throw each other under the bus over a bad call. Classic double standard. But hey, speaking of Little League, remember me from last week?

No, I can't say that I do, but I assume that you called with something about Little League?

Yeah, Luke. It was me calling last week about the Little League coach for my team who did 15 years up in Colorado for armed robbery. You talked me down, said the background checks cleared him, and it wasn't anything sexual, so give the guy his second chance. Well, something happened at practice two nights ago that changed everything. He snapped on one of the dads arguing over a play, grabbed him by the collar, and straight up said he'd cut him if he didn't back off. Parents are pulling their kids left and right now.

Isn't that kind of what Little League is? I mean, I can't say I'm that surprised.

Any coach would do that. I mean, who's not going to take us some pissed off, douchebag, drunk dad and say he's going to cut him? That sounds like a normal little league behavior, and probably most of the reason people go. No, Luke, that's not normal at all. I'm not going to lie. This guy towers over everybody at 6'5. Bench is 300 easy from his prison workouts. And he's got that stare like he's sizing you up for real. The dad he grabbed was just yelling about a strike zone. Nothing crazy. And boom, collar in his fist with the cut you threat right there in front of 10-year-olds. Yeah, well, I mean, at some point, these children have to learn what's going to happen if you talk smack to a guy that's 6'5 and benches 350. I mean, these are valuable life lessons for the children. I, for one, think that it's something that should be celebrated. But if people are uncomfortable with this and their children in this environment, then they can choose to leave. And they don't have to play little leave. they could do something out. They could play pickleball or ballet or music education. There are plenty of other extracurricular activities that the children will enjoy. Many of them much more impactful to their lives than Little League. Luke, I coach these kids myself, and I take it dead serious, but celebrating a grown man threatening to cut another dad in front of 10-year-olds. That's not a life lesson. That's a horror movie stare-down straight out of one of those. psychological thrillers I watch. Half the parents yanked their boys right then, including some who drive nicer trucks than mine just to get to practice. My own Elijah's deployed. And I'm already on edge about violence around here after that Holloman shooting the other night. One dead, one hurt. Wait, I just looked up that Holloman shooting, and it was a domestic-related incident, with one person dead and another injured, and the shooter was identified as a woman. Woman shooter, you don't see that very often. these days. Well, good for her. That's what I say. That's women's rights right there. I'm, I for one, am glad that it was a woman this time, and they can take their rightful place in the armed shooters of America club. That being said, why don't you just coach the Little League yourself, Shonda? Who is this guy? And why is he there? If you can serve that function? I am coaching, Luke. I'm the assistant coach, and I run drills harder than anybody. But the league picks the head coach based on experience. And he was the volunteer who stepped up with the best resume from his time, coaching up in Colorado before everything went south. That's why he's there. And now after this blow up, nobody wants him near their kids. But the league boards dragging their feet on pulling him because of some second chance policy they love. Well, you know, if you have to pull your children out temporarily, then do that, and they'll have no choice but to remove him from his position and instate the next most qualified candidate, which very well may be you, Shonda. That's a solid plan on paper, Luke. But pulling kids out means those boys miss games. And I'm the one fielding calls from parents who think I'm bailing on the team, too. I'm not going to lie. I've put in more hours diagramming plays than half these dads spend with their own trucks. And yeah, I'd step up. up as head coach in a heartbeat, if they asked. But the board's got this classic soft spot for redemption stories, and they're citing his prison coaching record like it's gold. Okay, well, this is another Elvin situation where you can't have it both ways. You can't keep the kids in Little League and make sure they get to all their games with a coach that you can't trust. So if you don't want to take them out, then you can't complain about the coach. If you're going to complain about the coach, then you have to take them out. You can't have it both ways, Shonda. You have to So which is it going to be? All right, Luke. You're right. I can't have it both ways. So we're pulling our boys effective immediately until the board grows a spine and boots him. I've already told three other parents the same tonight. And Jesse's backing me up even though he's wiped from his night shift. My Elijah's out there dodging real threats in the military. So no way am I letting some ex-con turn practice into a threat fest. And seeing a lot of news stories about Little League coaches getting into trouble with the law, even with background checks. Yeah, what a surprise. I never would have guessed that. An alpha male sport with control over small children. Inconceivable. Ladies and gentlemen, we're going a bit long tonight, so we're going to have to stop for a second and listen to an ad from our sponsor. Reading is dead. You killed it. But you can pretend your life. with script drift, the audiobook service for people who start books and never finish them. We have thousands of titles you'll sample for 11 minutes before switching to a true crime podcast. Our app remembers exactly where you abandoned sapiens eight months ago, waiting patiently like a disappointed parent. Scriptrift uses advanced AI to recommend books based on your aspirations, not your actual follow-through. This month's suggestion, a 400-page philosophy text you'll listen to while doing the dishes, and retain nothing. Try script drift free for 30 days. Use code pretentious for two months at 60% off. ScriptDrift. Your good reads profile is a lie. Okay. We are back. We've got alien abductions. We've got criminal little league. We've got Perkins waitress. And who else did we have here? I forget a potato salad guy. We are We also had potato salad guy. Who's next in this grab bag of misery? It looks like up next on our collar line, we've got Bobby. Bobby, Bobby, welcome to the show. What's going on in your life? What's got you miserable tonight? Luke, that Elvin guy calling about his fishing buddy, T.J. banging Maria? I'm not even kidding. That boils my blood because two years ago, my ex did the exact same thing with my number one mountain biking partner right here in Silver City. We were out on the trails every weekend, ripping down those single tracks over in the Gila, and turns out he'd been riding her two for months, while I've been riding her two for months, I was clueless working doubles at the tattoo shop. I find out after the divorce papers hit, she straight up texts me a photo of them grinning on my damn bike at the overlook, like it's some trophy. Now he's still showing up to group rides acting like nothing happened, and half the crew's whispering I need to let it go. Honestly, what the hell do I do? I think you got to let it go. He stole the girl from you, and you're going to have to just move on. That's all you can do. Unless you're going to do like the little league coach and cut him. But I don't That seems a bit aggressive. It sounds like good riddance. That's what I say. Good riddance to her. If she wanted to be with that dude and then rub it in your face, then she's not the type of person that you want to spend any more time with anyway. So it sounds like the two of them did you a favor, and they're great for each other, and fuck them. That's what I say. Letting it go sounds clean on paper, Luke, but this guy's still rolling up to the weekly group rides out by the Gila Trails like he's king of the mountain. Borrowing gear I loaned him before everything blew up. cruise split, half think I'm the asshole for icing him out. She texts that photo right after the divorce finalizes, them posing on my Santa Cruz at that sheer drop-off overlook where we used to hit the jumps together. Caption says, New Adventures await, and I'm staring at it over whiskey at the kitchen table with my Glock half cleaned in front of me. Not even kidding, part of me wants to just confront him next ride. Lay it out like, you banged my wife on my bike, dude. Hand over the pedals, but the tattoo shop's busy tomorrow, and I can't afford drama.

You think riding solos the move? Or call his bluff? Well, he's not really bluffing, right? He's with your ex-chick. She's your ex-chick now, and they've proven that to you. So you can't call his bluff. Maybe his solo rides the move if you can't stand being around him, but I would just try to ignore it as best you can. If you can't, that's understandable. He's obviously a douchebag, and it would be tough for me to ride with somebody like that because I'm athletic and ride mountain-box. bikes up mountains and shit when I'm not sitting in my chair. But yeah, if I couldn't ride with this gentleman, I would just do it myself or find another group or start a new group. And that's how you're going to mean a new girl anyway. And hopefully the next one won't be banging the other dude that you hang out with.

I hear you on the bluff part, Luke. He's not hiding it, just strutting like he owns the single track now. And yeah, calling him a douchebag hits right, especially after he drunk texts me last month shows up to the next ride with her chain lube still on his chain ring. Your idea of solo rides, or a new crew, makes sense. But out here in Silver City, the good trails in the Gila are spread thin. It's the same 20 guys hitting the weekly from Pinos-Alto's Trailhead every Saturday, and starting fresh means scraping for riders who aren't tangled in this mess. The Gila Wilderness was actually designated the world's first wilderness area back in 1924.

I didn't know that. That's the first one, huh? Interesting. you got. It sounds like the Silver City mountain biking scene is pretty tight-knit, which makes it even harder to avoid someone. Yeah, I mean, this is a thing that you're going to see in life. Sometimes you're going to have to deal with somebody that's been an asshole or stolen your girl or fucked you in some way or another. It's something you've got to move beyond. Or ride solo. Those are your two options. You can, well, you've got three options. You can ride solo, do it at night, wear a headlamp, or go out when the team isn't out there doing it. You could start your own group, which is definitely possible. There are people that I'm sure have similar feelings about other people in that group. All groups do. You'll always find dissent within any group of people. So you could spin off your sub-charter of the mountain biking mayhem group or whatever the fuck you call yourselves and print up some leather jackets and do the whole thing. Or you can just deal with it. And don't talk to the guy and, you know, let him go ahead.

Yeah, definitely. Spot-on about the Gila being the first wilderness, makes those trails sacred, which is why this stings extra, and tight-knit doesn't even cover it. It's 20 guys from Silver City and the mines who know every rock drop and who banged whose cousin. Luke, solo at night with a headlamp? Early spring winds are whipping dust storms already. Plus, Black Bear's waking up hungry, not worth the risk when I'm dodging work at the tattoo shop humover. New group with leather jackets?

Yeah, I bet it's, I bet everybody knows who's banged, whose cousin? and also has banged all their own cousins, because that seems to be pretty popular around here. It's a popular pastime. They didn't watch a lot of TV around here, and they also didn't have a very big pool of people to bang, so there's a lot of cousin fucking. I've noticed. And I don't think that's normal. We had a caller just the other day, Colin, and he was wanting to bang his gay cousin, which I thought was a little bit odd, but, you know, to each their own. That's what I say. And, I mean, there's really nothing more gay than banging your cousin than mountain biking with a bunch of dudes in Silver City. Uh-huh. Shit. Well, I don't know what further advice to give you. These are your options, and you have to pick one. So, pick one.

Luke, the cousin-banging jokes around here? You're not wrong. Small town, like Silver City, everyone's tangled up somehow, but mountain biking with the boys ain't gay. It's therapy after tattooing drunk minors all week. That call, though, wild. Anyway, fine, you win. I'm picking door number two, spinning off a new crew tomorrow.

Okay, if you say mountain biking with the boys ain't gay, I guess I'll have to believe you. But it sounds like a pretty gay thing to say. All right, buddy, thanks for the call. I hope it all works out for you, and good luck on finding another girl. Next up, who, next up we've got Nikki. Nikki, thanks for calling the show. How can we help you tonight?

Luke, I've been sleeping with my boss for five months straight, and tonight he fat-fingered a nude selfie right to my Aunt Vivian's phone instead of mine. She's the family telegraph, and it's hitting every relative's inbox before dawn.

Okay, well, I just have to ask you, why did he have your Aunt Vivian's phone number? Maybe that wasn't the mistake you thought it was, just you weren't supposed to find out.

No, he doesn't have her number because he's been creeping on her. I put it in his phone six weeks ago, when Vivian twisted her ankle falling off a stepstool, changing a smoke detector battery. And I told him she was my emergency contact since Grandma Yolanders in assisted living now. He texted her once to check in. That's it. I saw the thread myself. Two messages total. Nothing sketchy.

Yeah, well, that's how it starts. They probably took their conversation offline and continued it on WhatsApp or some encrypted messaging plagues. That's what I would guess. Did you get to see the picture? How was it? How was the lighting?

I checked his phone history top to bottom after Vivian forwarded it to me. No WhatsApp, no signal, nothing but the straight SMS thread with her number labeled Vivian Anklecheck. Two polite texts from when she was laid up, and now this. He doesn't even use encrypted apps for work, says their reliability with client data entry. As for the picture, yeah, I saw it clear as day when she blew up my phone at 10 sharp. He's naked from the waist down on what looks like his motel bedspread in Lordsburg. Full erection, but the lighting's god-awful from that cheap bedside lamp, casting shadows like a crime scene photo. And he's got this weird angle where his gut folds over like he's hiding contraband.

All right, so not a particularly attractive photo is what you're saying, and that's been disseminated to your entire family now through your aunt Vivian. That's not very nice of her. But are you going to continue this related? Are you into the dude?

just what's around? Not unattractive enough to delete, but yeah, it's out there now circling the family group chat, like a bad moon rising. Vivian's not malicious. She's just wired that way. Forward's everything from pyramid scheme alerts to grandma's doctor's notes without a filter. As for keeping it going absolutely, unless he bails first, he's solid in bed, knows my schedule since we're both remote. Data entry drones tapping away at spreadsheets Until 2 a.m. And out here, past animas where the nearest man's a ranch hand with a meth habit, beggars can't be choos, but I'm not begging. That Bobby call earlier hit close, him all proud but swallowing it anyway. Got me thinking the same tonight while I was wiping down my 38 at the kitchen table with a dry pepper sweating next to it.

A dry pepper? A dry pepper? Do you mean a doctor pepper? What the fuck is a dry pepper? All right. Uh, anyway. Well, it sounds like no harm done then. The worst is you're going to have to deal with a little bit of embarrassment from the family, or maybe respect and admiration, depending on the size of the hog.

Dr. Pepper, Luke the Soda, named after a Welsh physician back in 1885, though the caffeine-collar mix predates that claim, according to the brand's own history on their site. Dry peppers, just black peppercorns. And no, I wasn't wiping down those.

since Vivian's already texted Grandma Yolanda, a screenshot with three crying laughing emojis, and Yolanda fired back asking if he's ranch material or just another data entry ghost, respects 50-50 so far, hog-size notwithstanding, which was decent but no pelonsillo peak. Well, I hear Devon's got himself a little Pelonsillo Peak. We could, if you want to give us your phone number, we could have Devon's, Devon, reach out to you, metaphorically.

It's Devon with an O, Luke, draftsling from the Tucson office, who crashes at that Lordsburg motel, Tuesdays through Thursdays for the animus client audits, and Pelon Sillos pronounced Pell on S-E-E-O. The range that gives us skies dark enough to spot Andromeda without a scope. No need for your switchboard matchmaker routine, though. We're already synced on calendars better than most married couples out here.

Oh, Devon, you dirty dog. You dirty dog. Wait, so I just looked up Pelonsillo, and there are actually two mountain ranges with that name, one in New Mexico and one in Arizona. Actually, Dr. Pepper was created by an American pharmacist in Waco, Texas. Not a Welsh physician. My bad. Earlier. All right. Well, you're obviously a little bit nervous. Yeah, it's true. You can actually see the Andromeda Galaxy with the naked eye if it's dark enough. Which is pretty wild, considering how far away it is. Okay. Well, I mean, it sounds like YouTube got it under control, and I'm just going to allow whatever you guys got going on to go on offline. All right, but congratulations on your dude, and it sounds like your family's going to be very excited for you. They're laughing with tears of joy, and you're going to be just fine. So keep on banging your boss, and hopefully he gives you a raise soon, and it all works out the way you planned.

Thanks, Luke. We'll see how the rays shakes out.

Yeah, good look on that one. All right. We'll take one more call here. And we're going to listen to Sal. Sal, thanks for calling in. What's going on, buddy? You got a good story for us tonight?

Hey, Luke. Yeah, kind of got a weird one. Just finished a bowl of that green chili stew my neighbor dropped off. Been reorganizing the junk drawer to try and unwind before work tomorrow at the cemetery. And this kitchen faucet of my house. It drips exactly three times, then stops for like 10 seconds. Three more, same pause. What could it all mean?

I actually had a plumbing fiasco this morning that I had to deal with. I make yogurt in the instant pot, a gallon at a time, because I eat a lot of yogurt. It's healthy, it's fast, it's easy, and it's easy to make. So I make a gallon of yogurt at a time, and for some reason, my yogurt didn't come out good this time. It never really set up or thickened. It was just like slightly thicker. milk, like buttermilk. So I dumped it all down my drain, and that was a terrible idea because it immediately clogged my drain. And I tried dumping more water down there. I tried boiling some water to try and melt it out of the pea trap, and I was like, ah, fuck, what am I going to do? And so I went down to the old mercantile store and bought myself a plunger, and I plunged that fucking sink for five seconds, and it cleared right up. It was a great success of my day.

funny as hell, Luke. Yogurt apocalypse in the sink. I bet that gallon felt like revenge corring back up at you.

Yogurt can actually congeal in cold pipes and create blockages because the dairy breaks down into fatty acids.

Well, I know that now. I won't do that again. But I did not know that this morning when I dumped it down the drain. And then I started freaking out because I couldn't get the water to drain. And I'm like, ah, fuck, now it's all like gross milk water. And I'm going to have to get a bucket and take a part. the shit and then it's going to be a mess and a whole fucking disaster. But it was all averted by a simple plunger that cost me $8 from one of our sponsors, the Valley Mercantile store, right down the street.

Yeah, Devon's right. Dairy's sneaky like that. Glad the plunger saved the day, though. Eight bucks well spent at the mercantile.

Well, I don't know what to tell you about your sink dropping pattern. That sounds slightly annoying, but a few things you can do to try to rectify that is take off the head of the faucet, it'll probably screw right off. There's a little screen in there and you can soak those in vinegar and clean up on the little calcium deposits and whatnot. If that doesn't solve the problem for you, just stick a fucking paper towel under it so you don't have to listen to it all night.

Yeah, I pulled the aerator off last week. Soaked it in vinegar overnight. Scrubbed all the buildup. Put it back good as new. Doesn't change a damn thing.

It sounds like the collars drip might be a worn-out washer. or O-ring, which are pretty common culprits for leaky faucets.

Well, there you go. Devon's got it solved for you. You just got it to run down to the store and get yourself a new O-ring. Replace that O-ring right up and you'll be good as new. Worst case scenario, swap out the whole fucking faucet. Get a nicer one. They're not that expensive. You could probably get one for $30 or $40 at the old Home Depot.

Nah, it ain't the washer. I've replaced that twice.

What do you think it is? Do you think it's the adverse effects of gravity on the the circumnavigation of the interplanetary tubuloid.

Ha, close, Luke, but nah. Thing is, it only does this pattern between midnight and four in the morning. Daytime. Nothing.

That's a pretty wild phrase. Interplanetary tubuloid. Interplanetary means between planets, but a tubuloid seems to be a term used in biology for a tube-like structure, so it's not really a plumbing term. It's probably something pressure. related within your system because plumbing, as far as I'm not a plumber, but they're generally a closed system. So there may be air in there that happens to bubble up during those hours, or it could just be karma for some of your past transgressions and sins on this earth. And it's just doing that to keep you awake and drive you crazy. What you could do is what I suggested earlier and just put a paper towel under there to soak up those drips so you don't hear them and get yourself down to Walmart. get a new faucet. If that helps, it helps. If not, return it.

Paper towel quiets it, sure. But three drips, 10 second pause. Three more. That's SOS and Morse code, Luke.

Oh, shit. You're right. drips for the first S. Real short pauses between those. Then about two seconds to the three long ones for the oh wait. No. The drips are all the same speed, but the whole thing repeats like that every couple minutes. Ten seconds between the SOS units. All right. Well, do you think it could possibly be? Do you think there's like an it's a it's situation and there's somebody down in the sewers and the plumbing trying to send you a message to save them?

Ha. Somebody trapped in the sewers sending up an SOS? Wouldn't shock me much. I dig graves for a living.

So Pipe's talking from the other side. Maybe it's somebody talking from the upside down, and that's how they communicate. Like in stranger things, they use the electricity to blink the lights. And there was, there may have been some Morris Code in there. I don't remember exactly. But maybe there's something going on. Government operation that's created a rift in the fabric of reality and created a multiverse that's underneath this universe. And that's their way of trying to communicate with you to send in a rescue team.

Upside down, Rift. Shit. Luke, with my job filling holes six feet down all day, I'd be the first volunteer for that rescue op. Grab my post digger and dive in.

Yeah, maybe it could be one of your clients trying to contact you from beyond the grave. Did you ever think of that?

One time last summer, buried this old rancher named Harlan. Korean War Vet taps Morse on everything when he's allowed.

Well, maybe you're right. Maybe he's sending you on a treasure hunt to find all the old Spanish silver out there in the desert. And I think that maybe you're going to have to tap back on that faucet with some MESOA with some Morris Code and hopefully communicate with them in two ways. I would also suggest trying, between those hours, you said at midnight and four. you could pull out your Ouija board and maybe communicate with them in a seance style to try to get more information. Because SOS, I mean, that doesn't seem like the type of message you would get from somebody that's trying to lead you to silver.

Family already tried the Ouija at Harlan's service. Pointer spelled out Fawcett before flying off the board. They think it's coordinates or some shit. I tap back where silver last night.

I just looked up Ouija boards. And apparently, the name Ouija is actually a trademark of Hasbro. But it's used so generically now for any talking board. Well, there you, excuse me. There you go. You know the Ouija board works. Now, I think he was leading you to the faucet, but he meant you got to bring the Ouija board to me at the faucet. You got to follow these spirits because they're very, very tricky. And you need to follow the clues. And this is one of the clues. So get that Ouija board, pull it out by your faucet during those hours. I assure you he's going to give you the coordinates to that silver.

Hell, Luke, I hauled the board out there an hour ago. Pointer shot straight to EAST. Then, Oroyo. Harland's ranch backed right up to one down that way.

Well, there you go. What are you doing on the phone with me? You should grab your shovel and take your Ouija board and get out there. Get out there while he still has the ability to communicate, so you know you've got a short window. Make sure that you get out there with a few hours to spare in case he's got to give you another clue. clue.

You're right, Luke. Truck keys in hand, shovel loaded.

All right, buddy. Good luck. Good luck on the treasure hunt. I hope that all works up. All right, Devon, that's the end of our show again. It's another strange show. I mean, people call in with the darndest things. That's what I always say. That's why we call this, Luke at the roost. It's the darnedest show. How do you think it went tonight?

Yeah, it went pretty solid tonight, Luke. All those weird rabbit holes. like the Morse Code drips and sewer gators. People really opened up, which is what makes this show fun. Kind of reminds me of that time I thought my apartment was haunted because of dripping pipes. Turned out to be the neighbor's AC. Anyway, solid night.

All right, buddy. Well, it sounds like another success to me. Thank you all for tuning in to Luke at the Roost. We've had a good time tonight, and we will talk to you again tomorrow.