So, Herman, before we get into anything today, I need to tell you something. I have been, and I want to be clear about this, I have been emotionally preparing for this moment for three weeks.
You mentioned that, yes. You also mentioned it in fourteen text messages, two voicemails, and a handwritten letter that you slid under my door at four in the morning.
The letter was important context, Herman.
It was written in crayon.
I was emotional! You try maintaining fine motor control when you're confronting the deepest wound of your childhood. The point is, I want to contact my father.
Right. Your father Bernard, who, and I want to make sure I have the details correct here, was abducted by monkeys.
Captured. He was captured by monkeys. There's a difference. Abducted implies aliens, and I'm not crazy, Herman.
Of course not.
I was seven years old. We were at a picnic. Dad went to get potato salad from the car, and then, I mean, you could hear the screeching. There were so many of them, Herman. So many little hands. They just, they swarmed him. Like a furry tide. And then they carried him away into the trees and that was the last time I saw my father.
That is, and I say this with genuine compassion, one of the most unhinged origin stories I have ever heard.
It changed me. It broke something inside me. Specifically, it gave me a crippling phobia of anteaters.
See, and that's where you lose me every time. Monkeys took your father. Monkeys. How did you arrive at anteaters?
The brain works in mysterious ways, Herman. Trauma rewires things. One day you're afraid of the animal that actually ruined your life, and the next day you're hyperventilating because you saw a long snout on the Discovery Channel.
But those are completely different animals. They're not even in the same order taxonomically.
Oh, sure, side with the anteaters. You know what, this is how they get you. This is literally, and I mean literally, how the anteater agenda works. They redirect attention. "Oh, don't worry about us, we just eat ants." Meanwhile, they're running the global financial system from the shadows.
Corn, please, not the conspiracy theories again. We have a show to do.
Do you know who was really behind the two thousand eight financial crisis, Herman? I'll give you a hint. Long snout. Sticky tongue. Access to the highest levels of government.
It was not anteaters.
The Federal Reserve has had an anteater on its board since nineteen seventy-one. That's documented. I have a binder.
You have a binder.
Three binders. The third one is mostly yarn and newspaper clippings, but the connections are there if you're willing to see them. Every major geopolitical event of the last fifty years, Herman. Every single one. You follow the snout, you find the truth.
The snout.
The snout is designed, evolutionarily speaking, for sniffing out weakness. You think that's a coincidence? You think nature just accidentally created the perfect espionage apparatus and attached it to an animal that "just eats ants?" Wake up.
I am so tired of this. You do this every episode. Last week you derailed a perfectly good segment about renewable energy to explain how anteaters secretly control OPEC.
Because they do! The Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries has anteater fingerprints all over it. Well, not fingerprints, they don't have those, which is convenient for them, isn't it?
Can we please just do the seance? I spent forty-five minutes setting up candles for this.
Fine. Yes. The seance. But I want it on the record that I am not finished with the anteater thing.
It is on the record. It is always on the record. You bring it up constantly.
Good. Now, you said you could contact my father through a seance?
I did. And I want you to know that I take this very seriously. I am, as of eleven months ago, a fully certified paranormal communications facilitator.
Where did you get certified?
The Reno Academy of Paranormal Sciences and Weekend Dentistry. It was a weekend intensive. Very rigorous. They gave us a laminated certificate and everything.
Weekend Dentistry?
They offer a dual track. I focused on the paranormal sciences, but I did sit in on one session about root canals. Fascinating stuff. The spirit world and the mouth have more in common than you'd think, Corn. Both are full of things people are afraid to confront.
That's, hmm, that's actually kind of profound.
Thank you. Now, I've prepared the space. As you can see, I've arranged seventeen candles in a pattern that the Academy describes as "spiritually auspicious but also legally defensible." I have crystals, three different kinds of incense, and a bell that I'm told was blessed by a monk but honestly I got it at a garage sale so who knows.
What's that purple cloth?
That's the Veil of Communication. It cost me twelve dollars on Etsy. The seller said it was hand-woven by clairvoyants in Peru, but the tag says made in Ohio, so I'm going to say the truth is somewhere in between.
Herman, I appreciate the effort, I really do. But are you sure this is going to work? My dad has been gone for, I mean, decades at this point.
Corn, I graduated top of my class. Well, there were only four of us. One dropped out because she said the crystals were giving her a rash, and another guy turned out to just be there for the dentistry. But among the remaining graduates, I was top two.
Top two out of two.
Which is the top half, mathematically. Now, I need you to close your eyes. I'm going to begin the chanting.
Okay. Okay, I'm closing my eyes. This is it. After all these years.
Ohhhhmmm. Spirits of the great beyond, we call upon you this day. We seek Bernard Poppleberry, father of Corn, lost to the monkey swarm of, what year was it?
Nineteen ninety-four.
Lost to the monkey swarm of nineteen ninety-four. We beseech thee, grant us communication across the vast divide between the living and the, well, actually we don't know if he's dead, do we?
I mean, I don't think so? The monkeys seemed like they were taking him somewhere specific. It felt organized.
Right. So, spirits, we seek Bernard, who may or may not be deceased, location unknown, last seen being carried away by a organized primate task force. Ohhhhmmm. I'm getting something. I'm getting, yes, I feel a presence.
Oh my god.
The candles are flickering. The veil is, well, the veil isn't doing anything, it's just cloth. But the candles are definitely flickering.
That might be the air conditioning.
Do not question the process, Corn. I am a certified professional. Now, I'm going to ring the garage sale bell three times, and then we should have a connection. One, two, three.
Bernard: Hello? Is this thing working? Can you hear me?
DAD?
Bernard: Cornelius! Oh my goodness, is that you, son? Hold on, let me turn down my laptop, I've got a spreadsheet open and the fan is going crazy.
Wait. Did he say laptop?
Bernard: There we go. Sorry about that, I was right in the middle of updating my rock catalog. I've got over four hundred entries now. Each one cataloged by size, color, mineral composition, and what I call "vibe." It's a very robust system. I use Excel.
Dad, where, how, I can hear you so clearly. Herman, the seance is working incredibly well.
Yeah, it does sound remarkably high fidelity for communication with the spirit realm. Almost like, and I'm just thinking out loud here, almost like a phone call.
Bernard: Oh, it is a phone call. I've got Wi-Fi out here. Password is MonkeyBusiness, capital M, capital B, number four instead of the word "for." Gregory set it up. He's very tech savvy for a capuchin.
You have Wi-Fi?
Bernard: Oh sure, we've had it for years. Gregory negotiated a great deal with a local provider. He's the alpha of the colony, you know. Very emotionally intelligent. Makes the best mango salsa you've ever tasted. Uses a stone mortar and pestle that he carved himself.
So to be clear, this entire seance, the candles, the crystals, the twelve dollar Etsy veil, the chanting...
Bernard: Oh, was someone chanting? I thought that was the monkeys. They do a group meditation thing on Tuesday evenings. Very soothing.
I am going to choose to view this as a success. What just happened was a, I'm going to call it a phone-seance. A pheance, if you will. Phone plus seance. I'm actually going to trademark that.
Dad, I have so many questions. Where are you? Are you okay? Do you need rescuing?
Bernard: Rescuing? Heavens no. I'm doing wonderfully. I'm in Mongolia, son.
You're in Mongolia?
Bernard: Oh yes. The Mongolian steppe. Beautiful country. Very flat. The wind here is extraordinary. I can see for miles, and most of what I see is monkeys and grass.
Bernard, I don't mean to be indelicate, but how exactly did monkeys from a picnic in the suburbs transport you to Mongolia?
Bernard: Well, it was all very disorienting. They carried me for what felt like hours. I blacked out a few times. When I came to, I was surrounded by open terrain and unfamiliar vegetation. I thought, well, this must be the Mongolian steppe. What else could it be?
Dad, are you sure you're in Mongolia? Because the monkeys took you from Riverside Park, which is, I mean, it's right off the highway.
Bernard: Cornelius, I appreciate your concern, but I've been living here for over thirty years. I think I know what country I'm in. Just last week I was telling Gregory about the rich history of Genghis Khan, and he seemed very interested. He threw a mango at my head, which in capuchin culture is a sign of deep intellectual engagement.
Bernard, do you happen to know what your cell signal says? Like, what carrier are you on?
Bernard: Oh, T-Mobile. Excellent coverage out here on the steppe. I was surprised too. You wouldn't think T-Mobile would have towers in rural Mongolia, but here we are.
T-Mobile. In Mongolia.
Bernard: The wonders of modern telecommunications, Herman. Now, Cornelius, tell me about your life. What have you been up to? Are you seeing anyone?
I, what? No, Dad, I'm not, I'm trying to process the fact that you're alive and apparently running for office in a monkey colony in what you believe is Mongolia.
Bernard: I'm not running for office, I already hold office. I'm the Treasurer AND the Recreational Activities Coordinator. Dual appointment. Very prestigious. Tax Documents nominated me.
I'm sorry, who is Tax Documents?
Bernard: One of the monkeys. Lovely fellow. Found a W-2 form blowing in the wind one day, and it just, it spoke to him, you know? Changed his whole outlook. Now he handles all the colony's financial documentation. Which, granted, is just that one W-2, but he takes it very seriously. Laminated it and everything.
A monkey named Tax Documents laminated a W-2 form.
Bernard: He's very organized. You'd like him, Cornelius. Now, about your love life.
Dad, I don't want to talk about my love life.
Bernard: Because your mother, before the monkeys took me, she always said, "Bernard, make sure Cornelius finds someone who treats him right." And I think about that every day, usually during our colony movie nights.
You have movie nights?
Bernard: Every Friday. The monkeys are crazy about heist films. Ocean's Eleven is a perennial favorite. Gregory does this thing where he screeches during the vault scene, and honestly, it adds something. The Situation gets very emotional during the planning montages.
The Situation?
Bernard: Another monkey. Big fellow. Got the name because every time something happens, Brenda, she's the colony's social coordinator, Brenda says, "well, that's a situation," and he just responds to it now. He's the starting pitcher on our softball team.
You have a softball team.
Bernard: The Steppe Swingers. We're three and nine this season, but we're building something special. Tax Documents plays shortstop. He's got incredible range for someone who's primarily motivated by a single tax document.
Who do you play against?
Bernard: Ourselves, mostly. Sometimes a rival colony sends representatives, but they tend to just steal the bases. Literally steal them. They pick them up and run away. It's a whole thing.
Dad, I need to tell you something. The reason I wanted to contact you, besides the obvious, is that I've been struggling with something. I have a phobia. A really bad one.
Bernard: Oh no. Is it heights? Your mother was afraid of heights. And escalators. And most fruits.
It's anteaters, Dad.
Bernard: Anteaters? But you were taken from me by monkeys.
I know that. Everyone points that out. The brain does weird things with trauma, okay?
Bernard: Huh. Well, that's interesting. We actually have a few anteaters that pass through the colony from time to time. They're perfectly pleasant. One of them joined our book club briefly, but she stopped coming because she said we were reading too much Cormac McCarthy.
See, that's suspicious. What kind of animal has opinions about literary fiction? That's intelligence gathering, Dad. That anteater was profiling your reading habits.
Bernard: Cornelius, she just wanted to read more romance novels. It wasn't espionage.
That's what they want you to think. You're out there in, in whatever country you're actually in, surrounded by anteater operatives, and you don't even see it.
Here we go.
The anteater industrial complex is real, Herman. I've told you this a thousand times. Who do you think really controls the world's ant supply? And what happens when you control the ant supply? You control the picnic industry. And what happens at picnics, Herman?
Oh no.
Fathers get taken by monkeys. It all connects. It always connects.
Bernard: Son, I think you might be overthinking this. Have you considered that your phobia might be getting in the way of some important relationships in your life?
What do you mean?
Bernard: Well, you mentioned earlier, before the seance, or the phone call, or whatever this is...
Pheance. It's a pheance. Trademarked.
Bernard: Right. You mentioned that you work closely with an anteater? Your producer?
Hilbert Flumingtop. Yes. He's our producer.
Bernard: And how's that going? Between you two?
It's, I mean, it's fine. It's professional. He's very good at his job. He handles all the production logistics, schedules the recordings, manages the whole operation really. Why do you ask?
Bernard: No reason. It just sounds like you two are very close.
We're colleagues, Dad.
Bernard: Of course, of course. It's just, the way you talk about him, the way your voice gets a little softer when you say his name...
My voice does NOT get softer.
It does get a little softer.
Herman, do not help him.
Bernard: There's nothing wrong with it, Cornelius. Love is love. Even if it's between a man and an anteater. Here in the colony, Gregory is in a very committed relationship with a coconut, and we all support him fully.
DAD. He is my PRODUCER. That is it. That is the entire relationship. He produces the show. I am on the show. That is the complete topology of our interaction.
Bernard: Does he remember your coffee order?
That's, I mean, yes, but that's just because he's thoughtful. He's a thoughtful person. Anteater. He's a thoughtful anteater.
Bernard: Mmhmm.
Stop mmhmm-ing me! You've been living in a monkey colony for thirty years, you don't get to mmhmm me about my personal relationships.
Can we maybe redirect this conversation? Bernard, do you have any actual advice for Corn about the phobia? Like, practical tips?
Bernard: Oh absolutely. When I first arrived in Mongolia...
You're not in Mongolia.
Bernard: When I first arrived on the beautiful Mongolian steppe, I was terrified of everything. The monkeys, the open sky, the mysterious yurt that turned out to just be a large rock. But over time, I learned that fear is just your brain being dramatic. You have to expose yourself gradually. Start small. Maybe look at a picture of an anteater for five seconds.
I can't even do that. Last week someone texted me an anteater emoji and I dropped my phone in the toilet.
Bernard: Then start smaller. Think about the word "anteater." Just the word. Sit with it.
Anteater. Ant. Eater. An eater of ants. See, when you break it down, it sounds sinister. Something that consumes ants. What's next? What else will it consume? Where does the eating stop?
Bernard: The eating stops at ants, Cornelius. That's the whole thing. It's right there in the name.
He makes a good point, Corn.
Fine. Fine. I'll try to be more open-minded. It's just hard. You know, Hilbert, he tries so hard to make me comfortable. He keeps his snout angled away from me during meetings. He only eats ants on his lunch break so I don't have to see it. He, he actually got me a birthday present last year.
What did he get you?
A first edition of my favorite book. He had it shipped from a rare bookshop in Edinburgh. Tracked it down over three months. He, he put a little note inside that said, "To Corn, who makes every recording day better."
Bernard: Oh, Cornelius.
It's not what you think, Dad!
Bernard: I didn't say anything.
Your silence was very loud.
Bernard: I'm just saying, in the colony, when Gregory gives someone a mango, it means something. And a first edition rare book is significantly more than a mango.
Can we change the subject? Please? Tell me about the rock catalog.
Bernard: Oh, you want to hear about my rocks? Nobody ever wants to hear about my rocks!
I have a feeling we're going to regret this.
Bernard: So I started cataloging them about fifteen years ago, when I realized that the Mongolian steppe...
Not Mongolia.
Bernard: ...that the beautiful and vast Mongolian landscape is just covered in fascinating geological specimens. Rock number one is Gerald. He's a nice piece of granite, about the size of a grapefruit, with a slight pinkish hue. I found him near the watering hole where The Situation likes to do his morning stretches.
You named the rock Gerald?
Bernard: They all have names, Cornelius. It's a catalog, not a spreadsheet of anonymous stones. Well, it is a spreadsheet. But the stones are not anonymous. Rock number two hundred and seven is my personal favorite. Her name is Diane, and she has the most beautiful quartz veining I've ever seen. Tax Documents tried to file her once. He thought she was a mineral deposit receipt.
Bernard, can I ask you something? If you have a phone, Wi-Fi, a laptop, and apparently T-Mobile coverage, why haven't you just... called home before now?
Bernard: Well, I've been very busy, Herman. Do you have any idea how much work it is to coordinate recreational activities for a colony of forty-seven monkeys? Movie night alone takes three hours of setup because The Situation keeps rearranging the seating chart. And don't get me started on budget season.
Budget season?
Bernard: It's budget season right now, actually. As Treasurer, I have to present the annual fiscal report to the colony council. Gregory runs a tight ship. Every mango, every coconut, every piece of driftwood, it all has to be accounted for. Tax Documents audits everything. He's ruthless. In a good way.
What currency does a monkey colony use?
Bernard: Interesting rocks, mostly. Which is why the catalog is so important. I'm essentially managing the colony's reserve bank. Diane alone is worth seven mangoes and a coconut at current exchange rates.
Dad, I need to ask you directly. Do you want to come home?
Bernard: Home? Oh, Cornelius, that's very sweet. But I can't leave right now. Like I said, it's budget season. And besides, the softball championship is in three weeks. The Situation has been working on a curveball that, honestly, it's not great, but he's so proud of it that I can't bear to miss the game.
You're choosing monkey softball over your son.
Bernard: I'm choosing fiscal responsibility AND monkey softball over an impulsive decision. I'm a public servant, Cornelius. The colony depends on me. Who's going to lead movie night? Who's going to maintain the rock catalog? Brenda can't do it, she's already overwhelmed with social coordination, and frankly, her Excel skills are not where they need to be.
Brenda the monkey has Excel skills?
Bernard: Basic ones. She can do a SUM function but she still struggles with VLOOKUP. I'm trying to teach her pivot tables but she keeps eating the mouse. The computer mouse, to be clear. We go through a lot of mice.
This is insane. This is actually insane. My father is alive, he's forty miles away...
Bernard: I am in Mongolia.
You are NOT in Mongolia! Dad, what does the weather there feel like right now?
Bernard: Very Mongolian. Brisk. Breezy. The steppe winds carry the scent of grass and distant yak herds.
Bernard, there are no yaks within a thousand miles of you.
Bernard: Then what is that large, hairy animal that wanders through the camp every Thursday?
That's probably a cow, Bernard.
Bernard: A Mongolian cow, yes. That's what I said.
I can't do this anymore.
Corn, take a breath. Let's focus on the positive here. Your father is alive. He's healthy. He's apparently thriving in a leadership role within a primate community. That's more than most people get.
He thinks he's in Mongolia, Herman. He named four hundred rocks. A monkey is his financial auditor.
Yes, but he's happy. Isn't that what matters?
I... yeah. I guess it is. He does seem happy.
Bernard: I am very happy, son. And I want you to be happy too. Which brings me back to the anteater question.
Oh no.
Bernard: Cornelius, listen to your father, who has lived among wild animals for three decades and knows a thing or two about interspecies understanding. Your phobia is holding you back. And I think, I think the fact that you work every day with an anteater who clearly cares about you very much, I think that's the universe giving you a chance to grow.
He's just my producer, Dad.
Bernard: Does he bring you coffee?
He... sometimes brings me coffee, yes.
Bernard: The right coffee? Without you asking?
Oat milk latte, extra shot, a little cinnamon on top. Every Tuesday and Thursday. But that's just...
Bernard: That's not "just" anything, Cornelius. Gregory has never once remembered my coffee order, and we've lived together for thirty years. He brings me the same thing every morning. Mango water. I don't even like mango water anymore but he looks so proud when he hands it over that I just drink it.
I mean... Hilbert does do a lot of things like that. Last month the air conditioning broke in the studio and he fanned me with his tail for two hours so I wouldn't overheat during recording. I told him he didn't have to do that and he said, "Corn, I would fan you forever if you needed me to."
That's, that's actually really sweet.
Shut up, Herman.
Bernard: Cornelius, I'm not telling you what your relationship is or isn't. I'm telling you that an anteater who fans you with his tail for two hours is an anteater worth getting over your phobia for. Whether he's your producer, your friend, or, you know, something else.
Maybe you're right. Maybe I've been so caught up in my conspiracy theories and my fear that I haven't been able to see what's right in front of me. I mean, Hilbert is, he's kind. He's dedicated. He went to broadcasting school, did you know that? Top of his class. The professors said he had the best instincts for audio pacing they'd ever seen in a mammal.
He is genuinely great at his job.
And maybe, maybe the anteaters aren't running a shadow government. Maybe some of them are just, you know, living their lives. Producing podcasts. Making oat milk lattes with the perfect amount of cinnamon.
Bernard: Now you're getting somewhere, son.
I'm not saying I'm fully over it. I still think there are some legitimate questions about anteater involvement in the nineteen seventy-three oil crisis. But I'm willing to, you know, keep an open mind. For Hilbert.
That is genuine growth, Corn. I'm proud of you.
Bernard: Me too, son. Now, I hate to cut this short, but I need to go. Tax Documents is having a meltdown because someone moved his W-2 and he can't find it. The whole colony is in chaos. Brenda is trying to calm everyone down but she accidentally sent a spreadsheet to the wrong monkey and now there's a whole HR situation.
You have an HR department?
Bernard: It's just Brenda with a hat that says "HR" on it. Gregory made it out of banana leaves. But she takes it very seriously.
Bernard, before you go, I just want to say, this has been a remarkably successful pheance.
Bernard: A what?
A pheance. A phone seance. I invented it. I have a trademark pending.
Bernard: That's wonderful, Herman. You know, we could use someone with your entrepreneurial spirit out here on the steppe. We're trying to diversify the colony's revenue streams beyond the rock-based economy.
I appreciate the offer, Bernard, but I think I'll stay here.
Bernard: Suit yourself. The door is always open. Well, we don't have a door. It's more of a gap between two large rocks. Diane is one of them. She's load-bearing.
Dad, one more thing. Can I, can I call you? Like, regularly?
Bernard: Of course, Cornelius! I'd love that. Just not during budget presentations. And not during movie night. And not during softball practice. And not on Tuesdays because that's when Gregory does his group meditation and he gets very upset if phones ring during savasana.
So basically Wednesday.
Bernard: Wednesday works. After four. Before seven. Mongolian time.
It's the same time zone. You're forty miles away.
Bernard: Mongolian time, Herman. Now, I have to go wrangle Tax Documents before he files a grievance. He's the only monkey who knows what a grievance is, which makes him both the plaintiff and the processing department. Love you, Cornelius.
Love you too, Dad. Take care of yourself out there.
Bernard: Always do. Gregory sends his regards. Well, he threw a mango at the phone, which I'm choosing to interpret as regards. Goodbye, everyone!
Well. That was something.
Yeah. Yeah, it was. My dad is alive, Herman. He's alive and he's forty miles away running the finances of a monkey colony in what he sincerely believes is Mongolia.
And he has better Wi-Fi than we do.
He has better Wi-Fi than we do. And a softball team. And a rock-based economy. And a monkey named after a tax form.
How are you feeling? About the anteater stuff?
I don't know. Different, maybe? Like, hearing my dad talk about Gregory and the colony and how they all just, they all just figured it out, you know? Different species, living together, making it work. Maybe I've been too hard on anteaters. Maybe I've been too hard on Hilbert.
He really does make excellent coffee.
He does. And he remembers the cinnamon, Herman. Every single time.
That's something.
Yeah. That's something. I'm going to, I think I'm going to tell Hilbert thank you. Like actually say the words to him. For the coffee, for the fanning, for the book, for all of it. I've never actually said thank you because every time I try, the phobia kicks in and I just sort of grunt and walk away.
He deserves to hear it.
He does. He really does. Okay. I'm going to do it. Not right now because I need to emotionally prepare, probably another three weeks minimum, and at least one more handwritten crayon letter. But I'm going to do it.
That's all anyone can ask.
Thanks as always to our producer Hilbert Flumingtop. And honestly, genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, Hilbert, thank you. You're a good anteater. And I'm sorry about the conspiracy binder. Well, binders one and two. Binder three has some legitimate questions that I stand by. And big thanks to Modal for providing the compute.
This has been My Weird Prompts. Find us at myweirdprompts dot com for RSS and all your podcast apps.
Take care, everybody. And Dad, if you're listening, Wednesday at four.
See you next time.
