Friday, October 31, 2025
This is Channel Ab3 Episode Forty-Five: The Night Blogger - The Sign Of Ninazu Part Three
The Sign Of Ninazu
Part Three
The old switcheroo.
The Night Blogger was written and produced by Al Bruno III
Production assistance by Brian Mansi
The voice of the Night Blogger is Brian Mansi
The voice of the Cousin Roy is Robert Goodfellow
“Night Blogger Theme” by Josh Bruno
“Sissy Man Blues” by Kokomo Arnold
“Hookworm Blues” by Blind Blake
Audio Effects from
Freesound.org
For more Brian Mansi stop by his FaceBook page
For more Night Blogger stop by thenightblogger.com
Please consider making a donation at Patreon
Thanks for listening!
Sunday, June 15, 2025
This is Channel Ab3 Episode Thirty-Eight: Brad's Oracles Part Three
Peanut and Samantha discuss Thelma’s strange encounter with Brad Waterman at the mall. Samantha, unfazed, recalls seeing Brad and his group there, casually dismissing them as stoners. But Thelma, unsettled by Brad’s conflicting stories, can't shake her unease. Later, a cryptic call from Samantha—hinting at hidden forces and something off about Brad—deepens Thelma’s sense that the danger is far greater than it first appeared..
'Brad's Oracles' was written by Al Bruno III
It was produced and read by Molly Cundall
This episode's music was by Universfield
Our unpaid scientific advisor is Adam J Thaxton
The Channel Ab3 theme was written and performed by Rachel F Williams
Credits and recaps were read and produced by Sharvin aka Lucky Boy Charm
Channel Ab3 logo was designed by Antonio G
Are you enjoying the show?
Become a recurring subscriber.
Are you in the market to sell your home, find a new home, or just explore real estate investment opportunities? Don't hesitate to get in touch with me!
This is Channel Ab3 is distributed and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Sharealike 4.0 International License
Thursday, June 5, 2025
BRAD'S ORACLES: Chapter Four
Al Bruno III
"And then what?"
Lake Wales High School was shaped like an E; the top and bottom ends of the E were the auditorium and the gymnasium, and the middle was the cafeteria.
"And then I ran," Thelma explained. An entire weekend had passed since her bizarre encounter with Brad Waterman, and those 48 hours had helped diminish the worst memories. Those girls she had met had left her feeling uneasy and curious. And those men she had glimpsed? Those faces she had seen? It must have been a trick of the light, Thelma thought.
"You ran?" Samantha Reid asked. She was a heavy girl with frosted blonde hair and an easy smile, "Just when it was getting good."
A short boy with dark eyes and too-long hair nodded, "I bike by that house every day while I'm doing my paper route."
"Maybe you should see if they want a subscription Peanut," Samantha said.
"Maybe I'm afraid to," Peanut's real name was Steve Cross, but he had always been shorter than the other kids, and since the seventh grade, everyone from teachers to students had taken to calling him Peanut. "Although the tips might be memorable."
The three of them had been sitting together at lunch since last spring after the popular girls' catty remarks and conspiratorial whispers had driven Thelma away from the more upwardly mobile tables.
"Look," Thelma said, "I don't know who those guys were or what was going on there, but you can count me out."
"They were probably all college kids getting high." Samantha mused, "College boys always have the best weed."
"Oh really?" Thelma said. When Samantha said something like that, Thelma could never be sure if she was being truthful. All Thelma really did know was that since September, Samantha had run away from home twice and had one pregnancy scare.
"Really," Samantha said, "and if you ask me, you just read too much into the whole thing. If this Brad dude is sitting on a nice fat lawsuit check, he sure as hell will have a bunch of girls at his beck and call. The two biggest aphrodisiacs in the world are washboard abs and a personal fortune."
Peanut sighed sadly, "I am so screwed when I get to college."
"Poor Peanut." Thelma said, "I should have taken you to the dance."
"Oh sure, and I'll just pencil in regular beatings from Winston from now until the end of time."
Samantha waved her hand, "Oh, he's too busy with his new girl. Any regrets there, Thelma? I mean, that was a pretty good set of abs you left behind there."
"Robin can keep those abs," Thelma said, "I've got better things to do with my time."
The routine of school and home was broken up on Wednesday nights and Saturday afternoons by flipping burgers. It wasn't the best job in the world, but it got her out of the house and earned her a little spending cash. On the days when the manager was there, the job was bearable, mostly because he spent most of the shift in his office drinking. Unfortunately, this Wednesday night wasn't one of those shifts; the assistant manager, Blanche Costello, was in charge, and she was a bear.
If someone had told her about Blanche, Thelma would have rolled her eyes at the obvious exaggerations, but truth was unfortunately more irritating than fiction. Blanche was skinny, with over-permed hair, over-tanned skin, and a prodigious nose. She reminded Thelma of nothing more than a cartoon buzzard. Thelma also learned quickly that the only thing Blanche hated more than her life was the teenagers she had been in charge of. When Blanche held court, the employees were not allowed to talk to each other while on the clock, breaks were skipped whenever possible, and lunches were grudgingly granted late in the shift.
Sixth months of working at Burger Clown had taught Thelma not to cross the woman, but there was a history quiz on Thursday morning, and she really wanted that fifteen-minute break for studying. Fifteen minutes in a four-hour shift, was that so much to ask?
Clearly it was. The request had sent Blanche screeching, and the next thing Thelma knew, she was outside searching the parking lot for trash and dog poop.
Burger Clown was one of the three businesses on the road that led to Eagle Ridge Mall. And it was the only one that hadn't gone under. Grumbling to herself, Thelma walked the circumference of the Burger Clown parking lot, a dustpan in one hand, a ratty broom in the other. Cars sped by, filling the air with exhaust.
Well, it could be worse. Thelma tried to tell herself as she walked around the parking lot. On Saturday, she made two of the college guys climb onto the dumpster to jump up and down on the garbage so it wouldn't have to be emptied for a few more days.
Thelma gagged a little at the memory of the smell those boys brought back with them.
I'll just get to school early and study in homeroom. Thelma decided as she walked along the rear of the parking lot, picking up wadded paper cups and napkins. Thelma went to work at a particularly hardened piece of gum and then just gave up and sat down on the curb. She stared sullenly across the parking lot to the abandoned gas station.
I should just quit. I bet Samantha could get me a job working with her at the Fashion Bug, or heck maybe Peanut could get me a paper route. Anything but this, anything…
A black pickup truck pulled into the parking lot of the empty service station. Thelma sat up; she had heard from one of her co-workers that hookers took their johns to the back of the building to turn tricks.
Turn tricks. Thelma mused at the turn of phrase. There were so many metaphors for that one thing, and it seemed that between high school and work, she had heard just about all of them. Meanwhile, Mom and Dad still haven't had 'The Talk' with me yet.
The truck's engine idled, and the headlights shifted from low to high beams. Thelma waited, wondering what she would see, wondering what she wanted to see.
She certainly didn't expect to see Brad get out of the truck. The very sight of him sent competing shudders of fear and excitement along her spine. Brad walked to the passenger side and pulled out a bulky shape wrapped in a dark dropcloth. He hefted it and brought it over to the gas station's side entrance; the door swung open with a nudge of his hip.
He half-dragged and carried the shape into the building. The door swung to a close behind him. Thelma held her breath, expecting him to come right back out again, but he stayed in there.
What's he doing? She wondered.
Thelma thought again of the girl on the mattress and the men kneeling over her. She thought of their faces; you didn't see faces like that anymore- there were surgeries and cures.
Lights flashed in the abandoned gas station, brief eruptions of emerald-tinged illumination that filled the building's dark windows and faded away. It was as though Brad were striking a flint or playing with firecrackers. Thelma wondered if she could get closer without being discovered. She stood, leaving the dustpan behind but keeping the broom in case she needed a weapon.
Thelma made it halfway across the parking lot before Blanche Costello caught sight of her and started yelling for her to get back inside and start manning the fry station.
Sunday, June 1, 2025
This is Channel Ab3 Episode Thirty-Seven: Brad's Oracles Part Two
At her 1982 Spring Dance, Thelma French meets Brad Waterman, drawn to his green eyes. They talk about stars and walk to Spook Hill, where Brad shares his eerie family history. Inside his home, Thelma meets six peculiar girls and, disturbed by a shocking scene, quickly leaves.
'Brad's Oracles' was written by Al Bruno III
It was produced and read by Molly Cundall
This episode's music was by Universfield
Our unpaid scientific advisor is Adam J Thaxton
The Channel Ab3 theme was written and performed by Rachel F Williams
Credits and recaps were read and produced by Sharvin aka Lucky Boy Charm
Channel Ab3 logo was designed by Antonio G
Are you enjoying the show?
Become a recurring subscriber.
Are you in the market to sell your home, find a new home, or just explore real estate investment opportunities? Don't hesitate to get in touch with me!
This is Channel Ab3 is distributed and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Sharealike 4.0 International License
Thursday, May 29, 2025
BRAD'S ORACLES: Chapter Three
Al Bruno III
"And then what?"
Lake Wales High School was shaped like an E; the top and bottom ends of the E were the auditorium and the gymnasium, and the middle was the cafeteria.
"And then I ran," Thelma explained. An entire weekend had passed since her bizarre encounter with Brad Waterman, and those 48 hours had helped diminish the worst memories. Those girls she had met had left her feeling uneasy and curious. And those men she had glimpsed? Those faces she had seen? It must have been a trick of the light, Thelma thought.
"You ran?" Samantha Reid asked. She was a heavy girl with frosted blonde hair and an easy smile, "Just when it was getting good."
A short boy with dark eyes and too-long hair nodded, "I bike by that house every day while I'm doing my paper route."
"Maybe you should see if they want a subscription Peanut," Samantha said.
"Maybe I'm afraid to," Peanut's real name was Steve Cross, but he had always been shorter than the other kids, and since the seventh grade, everyone from teachers to students had taken to calling him Peanut. "Although the tips might be memorable."
The three of them had been sitting together at lunch since last spring after the popular girls' catty remarks and conspiratorial whispers had driven Thelma away from the more upwardly mobile tables.
"Look," Thelma said, "I don't know who those guys were or what was going on there, but you can count me out."
"They were probably all college kids getting high." Samantha mused, "College boys always have the best weed."
"Oh really?" Thelma said. When Samantha said something like that, Thelma could never be sure if she was being truthful. All Thelma really did know was that since September, Samantha had run away from home twice and had one pregnancy scare.
"Really," Samantha said, "and if you ask me, you just read too much into the whole thing. If this Brad dude is sitting on a nice fat lawsuit check, he sure as hell will have a bunch of girls at his beck and call. The two biggest aphrodisiacs in the world are washboard abs and a personal fortune."
Peanut sighed sadly, "I am so screwed when I get to college."
"Poor Peanut." Thelma said, "I should have taken you to the dance."
"Oh sure, and I'll just pencil in regular beatings from Winston from now until the end of time."
Samantha waved her hand, "Oh, he's too busy with his new girl. Any regrets there, Thelma? I mean, that was a pretty good set of abs you left behind there."
"Robin can keep those abs," Thelma said, "I've got better things to do with my time."
The routine of school and home was broken up on Wednesday nights and Saturday afternoons by flipping burgers. It wasn't the best job in the world, but it got her out of the house and earned her a little spending cash. On the days when the manager was there, the job was bearable, mostly because he spent most of the shift in his office drinking. Unfortunately, this Wednesday night wasn't one of those shifts; the assistant manager, Blanche Costello, was in charge, and she was a bear.
If someone had told her about Blanche, Thelma would have rolled her eyes at the obvious exaggerations, but truth was unfortunately more irritating than fiction. Blanche was skinny, with over-permed hair, over-tanned skin, and a prodigious nose. She reminded Thelma of nothing more than a cartoon buzzard. Thelma also learned quickly that the only thing Blanche hated more than her life was the teenagers she had been in charge of. When Blanche held court, the employees were not allowed to talk to each other while on the clock, breaks were skipped whenever possible, and lunches were grudgingly granted late in the shift.
Sixth months of working at Burger Clown had taught Thelma not to cross the woman, but there was a history quiz on Thursday morning, and she really wanted that fifteen-minute break for studying. Fifteen minutes in a four-hour shift, was that so much to ask?
Clearly it was. The request had sent Blanche screeching, and the next thing Thelma knew, she was outside searching the parking lot for trash and dog poop.
Burger Clown was one of the three businesses on the road that led to Eagle Ridge Mall. And it was the only one that hadn't gone under. Grumbling to herself, Thelma walked the circumference of the Burger Clown parking lot, a dustpan in one hand, a ratty broom in the other. Cars sped by, filling the air with exhaust.
Well, it could be worse. Thelma tried to tell herself as she walked around the parking lot. On Saturday, she made two of the college guys climb onto the dumpster to jump up and down on the garbage so it wouldn't have to be emptied for a few more days.
Thelma gagged a little at the memory of the smell those boys brought back with them.
I'll just get to school early and study in homeroom. Thelma decided as she walked along the rear of the parking lot, picking up wadded paper cups and napkins. Thelma went to work at a particularly hardened piece of gum and then just gave up and sat down on the curb. She stared sullenly across the parking lot to the abandoned gas station.
I should just quit. I bet Samantha could get me a job working with her at the Fashion Bug, or heck maybe Peanut could get me a paper route. Anything but this, anything…
A black pickup truck pulled into the parking lot of the empty service station. Thelma sat up; she had heard from one of her co-workers that hookers took their johns to the back of the building to turn tricks.
Turn tricks. Thelma mused at the turn of phrase. There were so many metaphors for that one thing, and it seemed that between high school and work, she had heard just about all of them. Meanwhile, Mom and Dad still haven't had 'The Talk' with me yet.
The truck's engine idled, and the headlights shifted from low to high beams. Thelma waited, wondering what she would see, wondering what she wanted to see.
She certainly didn't expect to see Brad get out of the truck. The very sight of him sent competing shudders of fear and excitement along her spine. Brad walked to the passenger side and pulled out a bulky shape wrapped in a dark dropcloth. He hefted it and brought it over to the gas station's side entrance; the door swung open with a nudge of his hip.
He half-dragged and carried the shape into the building. The door swung to a close behind him. Thelma held her breath, expecting him to come right back out again, but he stayed in there.
What's he doing? She wondered.
Thelma thought again of the girl on the mattress and the men kneeling over her. She thought of their faces; you didn't see faces like that anymore- there were surgeries and cures.
Lights flashed in the abandoned gas station, brief eruptions of emerald-tinged illumination that filled the building's dark windows and faded away. It was as though Brad were striking a flint or playing with firecrackers. Thelma wondered if she could get closer without being discovered. She stood, leaving the dustpan behind but keeping the broom in case she needed a weapon.
Thelma made it halfway across the parking lot before Blanche Costello caught sight of her and started yelling for her to get back inside and start manning the fry station.
Thursday, May 22, 2025
BRAD'S ORACLES: Chapter Two
Al Bruno III
Spook Hill was one street away. The town of Lake Wales was comprised of anemic side streets that branched off of the state and county Routes, bending back around themselves in grids and cul-de-sacs. Spook Hill was a local landmark and legend; long ago, a powerful Indian chief fought a giant alligator to their mutual deaths. Supposedly, if you parked your car in the right spot on North Wales Drive and put it in neutral, you would find yourself rolling uphill. Depending on who you asked, this was either an optical illusion, an anomaly of science, or the ghostly remnants of the great alligator and the Indian chief harassing passers-by. Thelma's father had tried two or three times to make it work, but they had just stayed at the base of the hill waiting.
Thelma and Brad turned off the county highway and walked along North Wales Drive. To their left were modest homes, most no more than a single floor and a handful of rooms. To their right was the dark water of North Lake Wales. "How old are you?" she asked.
"I'm not in high school." He paused and looked at the oval-shaped lake; the water was still, and it reflected the stars. The air was alive with the chirping of frogs and insects humming. Something pale and white fluttered past them; it might have been a very large moth or a very small bat. There hadn't been time to see. "When my Dad died, I became man of the house. I had to grow up fast."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"It's all right," Brad started walking again, "he was sick, but he didn't suffer. That's all you can pray for."
"That's-" Thelma had to run to catch up with him again; his easy gate seemed to cover ground very quickly, "-that's pretty bleak."
"It's a pretty bleak world. That's why you've got to grab hold of the future and make it your own." They were halfway up North Wales Drive and optical illusion or not, Thelma felt an uneasy weight settle into her gut, like something was pulling her back. Who was this man? And what was she doing? Wasn't it crazy to go wandering off with him? How many lurid news stories and horror films had beginnings like this? Brad turned back to look at her; his smile was dazzling, "Almost there."
He pointed to a house on the corner of North Wales Drive and Kissimmee Avenue, a rare two-floor building. The lower level was dark, but the upstairs was brightly lit. The house was what Thelma's mom would have called 'a fixer-upper'. The front porch was a maze of cracked and broken boards, the gabled windows sagged ominously, and the roof was a checkerboard of tiles and exposed wood.
It was hard to turn away from that smile, but Thelma remembered another scrap of local legend. "Wasn't that place condemned because some crazy old lady was living in filth there?"
"That was my great aunt."
"Oh God!” Thelma cringed, I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. I never knew her. The whole family pretty much ignored her because of some stupid debate over religion that got out of control."
"That sucks." When he started walking towards the house, Thelma found she was following him again.
"I guess she got senile or something living by herself. She started throwing her garbage down in the basement instead of taking it out to the curb," Brad explained, "When the basement got too full, she started filling up the downstairs."
"That's awful." Thelma had heard the story a few times already at school, but Brad's spin on things was fascinating.
"A year or so later, when the smell and the vermin coming and going in packs got to be too much, the authorities got involved," the gravel driveway crunched underfoot, "they locked her in a sanitarium and cleared the place out. It wasn't until after she died under their care that I even knew she existed."
"What did you do?"
"I sued. I sued the city, the county, the department of mental health, anyone my lawyers could get in their crosshairs," he stood on the front steps of the old house, "I got the house, I got some very nice big checks, and I'll never have to work a day in my life."
Thelma stayed in the driveway; she could hear music and voices from inside the house. "So you spend your time visiting high schools?"
"I was out for a walk and I poked my head in. High school kids always sell their weed too cheap."
"Ah."
Brad’s expression became sly again, ”Then I saw you, and I just had to meet you."
"Look..." Thelma was torn; she wanted to follow him in there, but she'd already traveled farther than she should have at this hour of the night with a stranger.
He opened the door, "Come on in for a bit, and I'll drive you back home as soon as you ask. I promise."
She looked back to the road, to the oval mirror of North Lake Wales. Something disturbed its surface, and the ripples made the stars crash together and split apart.
What am I doing here? She wondered. What am I trying to prove?
"Come on." He said.
"Ok," She said, "but no funny business."
He caught her in the doorway and leaned in for a kiss. It was brief and chaste, but it left Thelma trembling. "Nothing will happen here that you don't want to happen."
The lower floor of the house was stripped bare; every click and shuffle of their footsteps echoed. The air was tinged with the aroma of mildew and something else- a thick, cloying odor that Thelma couldn't quite place.
"Come on," He closed the door behind them, "I'll introduce you to everyone."
"Everyone?" Thelma asked.
Kerosene lanterns filled the second floor with white glaring light; two of them were at the top of the stairwell, and more were placed in each one of the upper floor's four doorways. The lanterns were all at their maximum settings. Thelma could hear them hiss and feel their heat as she walked past them. At the end of the hallway, six girls huddled around a radio, playing cards with a handmade deck. Each girl was barefoot and dressed in faded, oversized clothes. When they saw Brad approaching, they all started talking at once.
"Your harem?" Thelma surveyed them with a worried scowl. None of the girls looked much older than her, but they all seemed haggard and sleepless.
"They had nowhere else to go." Brad said, "Ladies, this is Thelma. Thelma, this is Annie, Sara, Maureen, Jackie, Laurie, and Bonita."
"Nice to meet you all," Thelma waved, "I should be going."
"What?" Brad spread his arms, "What's the matter?”
"This is just getting too weird."
All the girls shared a conspiratorial giggle at that. Thelma shoved past Brad and headed back for the stairs. She no longer cared who these weirdos were or what they were all about. This is what I get for listening to something other than my brain. Let's hope I make it out of here alive...
Then, something in the last room on the left caught her eye. The light from another lantern lit the room, but the radiance was pale and quivering. It reminded Thelma of a dying campfire. A mattress was shoved against the far wall, and three corpulent figures crouched around it. There was someone stretched out on the mattress, pale and pink. Thelma couldn't make out the body on the mattress, but the gasping cries and choking grunts she heard were distinctly female.
...alive and unmolested.
Brad's hand settled onto her shoulder; his breath was quickening. There was something guileless in his voice. "What is she doing without me?"
"It started an hour ago." One of the other girls said, "Maybe it's a flashback or something?"
Another girl chimed in, "We tried to make her comfortable but I think she's waiting for you."
Slipping out of his jacket, Brad walked into the room; he murmured an apology to Thelma and begged her to stay. At the sound of his approach, the three hulking figures straightened and turned.
They were taller than Thelma had thought, at least as tall as her father, but their hunched postures made it hard to be sure. The sight of their faces set her running.
She blundered down the steps, falling and catching herself. No one called after her or gave chase, but Thelma didn't dare look back until she was almost to the school.
When she got there, she found the dance was wrapping up. Most of the larger groups had moved on to post-dance parties, but some couples remained, snuggling in quiet corners and doing their best to delay going home. The AV kids were breaking down the audio setup while the teachers supervised and commiserated. Thelma's bicycle was alone on the bike rack, but she begged a quarter from one of the teachers and called home. When her Dad answered, she told him a kind of truth: that it was too dark and she was too scared. He promised to be there in twenty minutes with ice cream sundaes for both of them.
As Thelma waited for him to arrive, she found her gaze wandering across the night sky to Vega and its twinkling emerald light.