Ep 139: THUNDERTALK: “Gilman – Folklore, Cryptid or Unscientifically Proven. You Decide?”
Ep 139: THUNDERTALK: “Gilman: Folklore, Cryptid or unscientifically proven. You decide?”
[INTRO MUSIC: Ripping guitar solo over gator growls, followed by a whispered scream of “TRUTH!” and a distant airboat crash.]
CAST INTRODUCTIONS (READ BY JOGAN THUNDERMEAT)
JOGAN THUNDERMEAT – Your host. Equal parts Joe Rogan and Hulk Hogan. Meathead philosopher. Angry, dramatic. Has a dumbbell in one hand and a Nietzsche quote in the other.
DUSTY DURGEN – Florida cryptid hunter. Thinks he’s the smart one. He isn’t. Wears wraparound shades at night and uses “vibe” as a verb.
JOHN BILLY MCDUGAL – Dusty’s cousin. Built like a rotisserie chicken with opinions. Stares at the sun recreationally.
DALE – A raccoon. Cannot speak, but is clearly the brains of the operation. Wears a tiny utility vest. Carries a GoPro, snacks, and the last shreds of credibility.
ACT 1: “The Sighting”
JOGAN (commanding):
Welcome back, truth-seekers. I’m Jogan Thundermeat, and this is ThunderTalk, the only podcast recorded inside a Faraday cage, surrounded by salt circles and one mildly annoyed bald eagle.
Tonight’s topic: “Gilman: Real Creature or Just Another Wet Mistake?”
Joining me are two men who claim to have seen, tracked, and maybe even emotionally wounded a Gilman in the Florida swamp.
Say hello to Dusty Durgen, John Billy McDugal, and their field assistant, a raccoon named Dale.
DUSTY (confidently):
Real honor to be here, Jogan. Been manifestin’ this moment since we got banned from the Tallahassee Bass Pro Shop.
JOHN BILLY (chewing gum and maybe drywall):
Yeah, buddy. Big fan. Real excited to show the world what science has been tryin’ to suppress.
[DALE climbs onto the table, places a GoPro next to Jogan’s mic, then opens a mini notebook and starts reviewing notes like a grad student.]
JOGAN (eyebrows raised):
Okay. First impression: This raccoon has better posture than both of you and might be literate.
So… where exactly did this aquatic miracle occur?
DUSTY:
Middle of the night. 2:17 A.M. We’re on Pokechoke Bridge, real isolated, humid as sin, moon hanging like a blister. We’re hyped on Red Bull, existential dread, and Dale just finished calibratin’ the camera rig.
JOHN BILLY:
Also had a bucket of pork cracklins and a flashlight taped to a shovel.
JOGAN:
A flashlight… taped to a shovel?
DUSTY:
Dual purpose, man. Light and intimidation. Gilmen respect tools.
[Dale looks up, shakes head, and writes “irrelevant” in his notebook.]
JOGAN (pointing):
See that? Your raccoon is actively fact-checking your nonsense. That’s what accountability looks like in this hellscape.
DUSTY (unfazed):
We hear this low, throat-hummm. Like somebody playin’ a tuba under a pillow. Water starts bubblin’. Gators scatter like they’re afraid of gettin’ subpoenaed. Then, boom! Out of the swamp, Gilman emerges.
JOHN BILLY (wide-eyed):
He was… majestic. Like if the Hulk was born in a koi pond.
JOGAN:
And Dale caught it on film?
DUSTY:
Technically, yes. But he was mid-snack. So the footage is… abstract.
[Dale pulls out a thumb drive and slides it across the table, then slowly raises a paw in apology.]
JOGAN (holding drive):
This raccoon just handed me actual data and took responsibility.
Meanwhile, you two used a flashlight shovel and baited a swamp monster with Slim Jims and false hope.
JOHN BILLY (nodding):
That’s teamwork.
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JOGAN (muttering):
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[SPONSOR MUSIC: Ambient frog noises, overlaid with camo rustling and distant banjo.]
JOGAN (VO):
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ACT 2: “The Collapse of Logic”
JOGAN:
So after Dale accidentally filmed an interpretive blur, what did you do? Collect samples? Get DNA?
DUSTY:
Well, we tried to get a footprint cast, but Dale had already stuck a Hot Wheels car in the print for scale.
JOGAN (stunned):
You two did nothing, and your raccoon managed to document evidence using comparative measurement tools.
Dale… are you open to full-time employment?
[Dale shrugs modestly and chews on a protein bar.]
JOHN BILLY:
He also made a sketch. Dude’s got paws of an angel.
[Dusty pulls out a hyper-realistic pencil drawing of the Gilman—beautiful, accurate, signed “Dale, 2024.”]
JOGAN (genuinely emotional):
This is… the most scientifically valid thing I’ve seen in a decade.
And it was made by a raccoon… who just adjusted his own tie.
DUSTY (defensive):
We contributed too, man. We were the heart.
JOGAN:
You were the background noise. Dale is the whole damn operation.
If the Gilman had spoken English, he would’ve spoken only to Dale.
SPONSOR BREAK #2 – MYSTERYBOX XL™
JOGAN (tired):
Let’s hear from a sponsor before I ask Dale to adopt me.
[SPONSOR MUSIC: Warped xylophone + bubbling cauldron noises.]
JOGAN (VO):
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ACT 3: The Baiting & Breakdown
JOGAN:
Let’s talk bait. How did you attract the Gilman?
DUSTY (seriously):
We threw bath salts in the water and played Nickelback.
JOGAN:
You summoned a meth-fueled cryptid mosh pit. Congratulations.
JOHN BILLY:
We also did the Gilman Mating Dance.
[They both start slapping their arms and humming tunelessly.]
[Dale curls into a ball and pulls a tiny blindfold over his face.]
JOGAN (rubbing temples):
I just watched a raccoon attempt to block out the world, and honestly? I get it.
OUTRO
JOGAN (dead inside):
Tonight, I learned two things:
One, Dale is the only competent researcher in Florida.
Two, humanity deserves the extinction it’s flirting with.
DUSTY (smiling):
So… can we come back next week?
[Dale writes “Please No” and holds it up to the camera.]
JOGAN:
I’ve been Jogan Thundermeat. You’ve been lied to, misled, and emotionally slimed.
Goodnight, and remember: The truth is out there… but it’s hiding from you.
[OUTRO MUSIC: Raccoon chatter mixed with glitchy banjo and a soft “What the hell was that?” from the booth.]