255 - The John Peters Imaginary Corn Maze Experience

Hey, y'all, it is Jeffrey Kraner speaking to you from the year 2025.

And did you know that Welcome to Night Vale is back out on tour?

We are.

We're going to be up in the northeast in the Boston, New York City area, going all the way over to the upper Midwest in Minnesota.

That's in July.

You kind of draw a line through there and you'll kind of see the towns we'll be hitting.

We'll also be doing Philly down to Florida in September.

And we'll be going from Austin all the way up through the middle of the country into Toronto, Canada in October.

And then we'll be doing the West Coast plus the Southwest plus Colorado in January of 2026.

You can find all of the show dates at welcome to nightvale.com/slash live.

Listen, this brand new live show is so much fun.

It is called Murder Night in Blood Forest, and it stars Cecil Baldwin, of course, Symphony Sanders, me, and live original music by Disparition, and who knows what other special guests may come along for the ride.

These tours are always so much fun, and they are for you, the Die Hard fan, and you, the Night Vale new kid alike.

So, feel comfortable bringing your family, your partner, your co-workers, your cat, whatever.

They don't got to know what a night veil is to like the show.

Tickets to all of these live shows are on sale now at welcometonightvale.com/slash live.

Don't let time slip away and miss us when we are in your town because otherwise we will all be sad.

Get your tickets to our live U.S.

plus Toronto tours right now at welcometonightveld.com/slash live.

And hey, see you soon.

Hell hath no fury like a farmer's corn.

Welcome to the John Peters Imaginary Corn Maze Experience.

Hey and howdy, folks.

It's John Peters, you know the farmer.

First off, I want to thank Cecil for letting me take over the show today.

Well, he didn't let me per se, but he's not real available right now, and that's kind of my fault, more or less.

But don't worry, he's totally fine.

But let's just say I thought it'd be honorable, like, to step in for him, given my responsibility for him being, being, well, missing,

so to speak.

He's fine.

More on that later.

Anyway, taking over the show also gives me the opportunity to bring to you, the listeners, the virtual experience of a lifetime.

As you may know, I've been the leading farmer of imaginary corn for many a decade now.

And I'll be beaver damned if every single one of them years folks didn't come up to me and say, Hey, John Peters, how about doing a corn maze this year?

Everyone loves the corn maze.

The running and the laughing and the bugs in your hair and the zombies pomping out at you trying to get your brain meat.

The cider swilling and the banjo playing and the sacrifices to the Minotaur at the center of the maze to appease the harvest gods.

The petting zoo and the pumpkin patch and the jack-o'-lantern patch and the accidental bonfire in the field next to the jack-o'-lantern patch and the fire trucks and the big water hoses and the mud and the mud ratling.

Everyone loves a corn maze, John Peters.

They'd holler at me in the streets and I'd always say the same thing to them.

I don't have the time to imagine all them things.

I already use up every last morsel of my own brain meat to imagine the region's number one agricultural export.

And by the time harvest season rolls around, I'm plumb tuckered.

But what do you think happened this year?

The Flaky O's factory fell on hard times, had to cut way back on their imaginary corn supply.

The Green Market Co-op, one of my main distributors, shuttered their doors after their kombucha was found to contain 80-proof grain alcohol.

Route 800 kept getting buried in sand drifts and all them farm trucks was rerouted through a whole nother state.

And old John Peters suddenly had a whole lot of time on his hands and a whole lot of imaginary corn.

Instead of focusing on my crops so much, I found myself making multi-generational clans of scarecrows and play acting dramatic epics with them out in the fields.

Pretty soon, I started to hear all them voices from the past, some of which I hadn't heard since I was a young man, whispering through my corn stalks.

They saying things like, hey, John Peters, why don't you build us an absolutely inescapable corn maze this year?

Why don't you shear your imaginary corn crop into a maddening puzzle of twists and turns that reduces even the bravest soul to tears of frustration.

Why don't you inflict upon us a geometric hell of vegetation that makes us call upon a higher power for mercy?

If you build it,

they will scream.

And after all these years, I finally listened.

It's time to give the people what they want, I said, right then and there to the Baroness Mathilda Hayworth, eldest daughter of the Hayworth clan on the eve of her wedding to the neighboring Scarecrow tribe's Archduke Lamont Stuffington.

Yes, the Baroness hissed back at me.

It is time,

John Peters.

Now, she might have been referred to the espionage mission she's about to undertake with her sham wedding to overthrow the Stuffington territory.

But either way, I left the Hayworths and the Stuffingtons to fight it out on their own, and I got right to work planning the biggest, best, wildest imaginary corn maze anyone's ever done did.

But I know some of you can't make it out to my field in person.

So I'm also going to bring it straight to you

over the radio right here,

right now.

but before we get to that i'm gonna go ahead and read some of the things from cecil's desk here that i'm guessing are supposed to be on the show today

in the headlines it is spirit week at the high school oh yeah that's when they do a bunch of social studies lessons about ghost culture and history I remember that from when I was a kid.

We learned all about the major ghost holidays, like creeps giving and what they like to eat, worms, and how to draw their flag, transparent, and about how people are always appropriating their traditional clothing as costumes for Halloween, like a sheet with the eye holes cut out of it, or zombie makeup, or an inflatable T-Rex suit, and how that's very rude and disrespectful.

It was real eye-opening.

Great guest speakers too.

My senior year, we had Abraham Lincoln and Bob Marley and this real freaky lady who kept asking us to find her eyes.

Don't skip out, kids.

Spirit week is important stuff.

Now a word from our sponsors.

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Okay, I think that takes care of the radio station housekeeping.

I'm gonna need all you listeners at home to sign a waiver before we go any further.

Just basically says if you don't make it out of my corn maze, that's on you, Buckaroo.

So for everyone who wants to do the maze, please take a moment to close your peepers and imagine that waiver and then think real hard about your signature.

And for those of you who'd just as soon eat beans, turn off your radio and go eat beans, friend.

If you're still listening, that means you have officially agreed to enter at your own extreme peril.

We are now crossing the threshold of time and space into the John Peters imaginary corn maze experience and field of heroin specters.

This journey, like so many journeys, begins with a hot dry wind, a rattling through a sea of dead corn stalks.

You don't remember entering this maze, but here you are, surrounded by corn.

Wait a dang minute, you think to yourself, this is supposed to be a maze, but I don't see any path at all, let alone different paths to choose from.

What kind of maze is this anyhow?

But guess what?

Three pathways suddenly appear around you.

The one ahead of you is so straight and long that it disappears into the vanishing point on the the horizon.

The one to the left flickers and changes colors like an oil slick, more like a hologram of a path than an actual path.

And the one to the right is blocked by a large man wearing a carved up melon on his head, wielding a chainsaw and howling like a feral animal.

Now, it's time to make your first choice.

Weigh all your options careful like the experience of a maze, just like life, is all about the choices you make.

One wrong step can alter your reality forever, sometimes in ghastly, unspeakable ways.

So close your eyes and think about your answer as hard as you can.

To remind you, there's the hologram path, the infinitely long path, or the melon man.

Which path

you take?

You chose

the melon man.

As you approach the melon man, he makes an aggressive gurgling sound.

I wonder why I chose this, you think.

The other two paths were definitely weird, but neither of them had the immediate threat of this one.

The melon man runs towards you with his gore-splattered chainsaw, making enraged jibber-jabber sounds like a raccoon with distemper.

As he gets closer, you can see little glimpses of his face through the hacked up melon on his head.

His skin is shiny with scars and sticky with melon juice.

You can see one of his eyes just rolling around in a socket like a raccoon with distemper.

He's foaming at the mouth like a raccoon with distemper.

There'll be no reasoning with this fella, you think.

You keep walking straight toward him, though.

You made this choice and you're sticking to it.

As he raises that screaming chainsaw inches from your face, there's only one thing to do.

Well, there's a few things to do, but I'm sure you'll choose the right one.

You can run past that crazy old melon man and hide in the corn.

You can throw a rocket that there melon man and run off into the corn.

You can try to stop that whirring rusty chainsaw blade by grabbing it with your own bare hands.

I'll I'll give you some extra time to think on this one.

You chose.

Grab the chainsaw.

Huh.

Okay.

As both of your hands get sheared clean off your body and go a flying into the cornfield, the melon man chases right after him, a slobbering and a whining, like a raccoon with distemper.

Human hands are his favorite food.

It distracted him enough so's you can keep going ahead.

Good job.

It's getting dark now, but the Blood Weevil Reaper moon is shining down upon you, lighting the way with its reddish, squirmy moonbeams.

And look here, another fork in the road.

One path leads to a spooky old farmhouse.

The door is half open and the inside is dark as tar.

You know the Kate Blanchett movie?

And if you listen real close, you can hear the sound of evil clown laughter coming from the classic Halloween sound effects compilation CD Merry Christmas by Mariah Carey.

The other path leads straight into a big old mouth lined with jagged ancient teeth.

The mouth breathes in and out with a briny dampness.

It looks like some kind of sea monster or like one of them sharks, the ones with the heads that look like a hammer.

I forget the proper name of them.

Either way, a shark surely don't belong in the middle of a cornfield, you think?

That is just plain scary.

But on the other hand, that old farmhouse is pretty scary too, especially with them creaky door sound effects and owl hoots coming out of there.

And wait a second, are those cobwebs hanging from the windows

you have to choose quick this time

you chose the mouth wow really

before we get to that take a minute to tie some corn silk tourniquets around your blood spurting hand stumps there while we check the farmer's almanac for the weather

You chose to hit play on this podcast today.

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I'm Amy Nicholson, the film critic for the LA Times.

And I'm Paul Scheer, an actor, writer, and director.

You might know me from the League Veef or my non-eligible for Academy Award role in Twisters.

We come together to host Unschooled, a podcast where you talk about good movies, critical hits, fan favorites, must-sees, and in case you missed them.

We're talking Parasite the Home Alone, from Greece to the Dark Knight.

So if you love movies like we do, come along on our cinematic adventure.

Listen to Unschooled wherever you get your podcasts.

And don't forget to hit the follow button.

What in all hallowed heck was I thinking?

You think?

As you step into the slimy crevice of the corn shark's waiting mouth and its bloated tongue tosses your body straight down its contracting gullet into a burning pit of stomach acid.

This is surely the worst choice I've ever made in my gall darn life.

You might could try to thrash around and cause the thing some indigestion so it'll spit you back out into the field or you could double down, take a deep breath, and dive even further into the excruciating pit of acid.

You chose the acid.

As you submerge yourself fully into that liquefied hellfire, the flesh practically disintegrating off your bones.

You get sucked up into some kind of pneumat tube.

You know, like the ones that used to be in libraries and post offices and slaughterhouses?

The kind that just

shoot things from one place to another in the blink of a snap.

Well, you done got tube slurped, and now you're smack dab in the middle of the northern Lithuanian mountains, and it is snowing something fierce.

And like I said, there's barely any flesh left on your bones, let alone a scrap of clothing on your body.

Up ahead, there's a cave that might provide some shelter.

Behind you, floats the disembodied head of an enormous dog.

You chose the doghead.

Do you pledge your undying allegiance and loyalty to me, the great doghead of the mountains?

The doghead asks you, providing a scroll for you to sign in your own blood.

You choose yes.

After devoting a year of your life to the doghead, you start to wonder what became of your family, your friends, your career, your house, your car, your tomato plants that needed watering, your cat Florian, your parakeet Skylar, your cigar box full of old love letters, hamburgers with pickle relish,

the sun.

You wonder if there were any flowers with your face on them stuck to lampposts around town.

If anyone's looking for you, if anyone will ever find you.

You wonder if you're even you anymore.

After all the gruesome things you've seen and done in service to the dog head, all for fear of his terrible wrath.

You wonder, does a person retain some core sense of being, regardless of the choices they make or the experiences they go through in life?

Or can a person become so completely transformed by these things that they no longer bear any resemblance to the person they once were?

Is it possible to live one lifetime as numerous different people?

Or is there only one true self

think hard on this one now you might just be able to make it out of this maze yet depending on your answer or you might be stuck out here for the rest of your natural life a barely existent skeleton freezing in the lonely mountains living to serve the disembodied head of a malevolent canine god So close your eyes and concentrate.

Oh, hey, Cecil's back.

Hey, everyone.

Wow, thanks so much for filling in, John Peters.

Oh, I'm sorry I'm so late.

I completely lost track of time out at the imaginary corn maze with the caramel apples and the jug band and the petting zoo.

Oh my god, the baby goats are so cute with their soft human skin and their sad little human faces.

Aw.

Anyway, I know I speak for everyone in town when I say I really hope this becomes an an annual tradition.

It's already added a lot to the fall spirit around here.

But I know autumnal frolicking is no excuse to shirk my duties here at the station.

Though, in my defense, I completely forgot who I was or where I was supposed to be for a good six hours after coming out of that maze.

Big shout out again to John Peters for designing such a delightfully creepy labyrinth and for stepping in for me.

I owe you one, buddy.

And I promise to be back here on time for the next show with some extra juicy headlines for everyone.

In the meantime, be sure to check out that corn maze listeners and stay tuned for both discs of Pure Moods 2: The Mummy Returns.

Good night, Night Vale.

Nadi Nadja.

Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Night Vale Presents.

It is written by Joseph Fink, Jeffrey Kraner, and Bree Williams and produced by Disparition.

The voice of John Peters, you know, the farmer, is Mark Gagliarti.

The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin.

Original music by Disparition.

All of it can be found at disparition.bandcamp.com.

This episode's weather was was Struggle and Oppression by Another Day Done.

Find out more at linktree slash another day done.

Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvale.com or follow us on Instagram, Tumblr, and TikTok at Night ValeOfficial.

Or really let your body feel the rhythm of the music.

If that's your thing, I don't judge.

Most importantly, check out welcometonightvale.com, where we have a twice-monthly mailing list that is the best way to keep up to date directly from us to you.

Right now is the start of our big campaign for our tabletop nightvale RPG and the release of the second season of Unlicensed, our Audible Original.

So that's all happening right now in your email.

Today's proverb: Actions speak louder than words, especially clapping.

It is really hard to hear words if someone is clapping.

Hey, Jeffrey Kraner here to tell you about another show from me and my Night Vale co-creator, Joseph Fink.

It's called Unlicensed, and it's an LA Noir-style mystery set in the outskirts of present-day Los Angeles.

Unlicensed follows two unlicensed private investigators whose small jobs looking into insurance claims and missing property are only the tip of a conspiracy iceberg.

There are already two seasons of Unlicensed for you to listen to now, with season three dropping on May 15th.

Unlicensed is available exclusively through Audible, free if you already have that subscription, and if you don't, Audible has a trial membership.

And if I know you, and I do, you can binge all that mystery goodness in a short window.

And if you like it, if you liked Unlicensed, please, please rate and review each season.

Our ability to keep making this show is predicated on audience engagement.

So go check out Unlicensed, available now only at Audible.com.