The Amelia Project - Forgive Amelia - Part 3 - A Boiling Point

Episode Date: September 5, 2021

“The whole thing was senselessly naive.” Forgive Amelia - A Triptych: Episode 3 - Amelia A three part mini-season cross over with Forgive Me! by Rogue Dialogue Productions. Read more about Forgive Me! here: roguedialogue.com/fm-about With Casey Callaghan, Julia Morizawa, Julia C. Thorne and Alan Burgon Additional voices by Linsday Zana, Marcus Xavier Stewart, Torgny G. Aanderaa, Oystein Brager, Bob Raymonda and Adam Raymonda For Rogue Dialogue Productions: Written by Jack Marone Directed by Jack Marone and Bob Raymonda Dialogue editing by Bob Raymonda Sound design and music by Adam Raymonda Graphic design by Sam Twardy For Imploding Fictions: Story editing by Philip Thorne and Oystein Brager Graphic design by Anders Pedersen The Amelia Theme tune is by Fredrik Baden Production assistance by Maty Parzival Forgive Me! is produced by Rogue Dialogue Productions and created by Jack Marone and Bob Raymonda. The Amelia Project is produced by Imploding Fictions and created by Philip Thorne and Oystein Brager The Amelia Project is an audio fiction series. We recommend starting at the beginning. Congratulations. You’ve reached the content warning. The Amelia Project is about death, mishaps, mayhem and misfortune. And cocoa. If you’re not comfortable with this, stop listening. Now. The Amelia Project is part of the Fable & Folly Network. Find and support our sponsors at: fableandfolly.com/partners Website: ameliapodcast.com Transcripts: ameliapodcast.com/transcripts Twitter: @amelia_podcast Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ameliapodcast Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Summer's here, and you can now get almost anything you need delivered with Uber Eats. What do we mean by almost? You can't get a well-groomed lawn delivered, but you can get chicken parmesan delivered. Sunshine? No. Some wine? Yes. Get almost, almost anything delivered with Uber Eats.

Order now. Alcohol in select markets. See app for details. Hello, it's Pip, and today things come to a boiling point, literally in the final installment of Forgive Amelia a Triptych. Before we begin, an update on the next season. Season four is scheduled to begin in late October. Having said that, the first season four episode, an episode called Overture, is almost finished. Freddie is just sprinkling the last bits of

musical fairy dust over it. So we've decided that if we hit our next Patreon goal, we will do an early release for patrons. Our next goal is to reach 550 patrons. We're about 60 patrons away from that. So if we hit that goal in order to celebrate, we'll publish Overture soon after for patrons, regardless of the amount you pledge, you'll get early access, and we're even thinking of hosting some sort of online live listening party for it. So if you enjoy the work we're doing and want to support it, we'd be super grateful if you considered making a pledge. You can pledge $2, $5, $10 or more, whatever an episode is worth to you, and the money goes straight to paying the artists who work so hard

to bring this show to life. In order to become part of our Patreon community, go to ameliapodcast.com and click on support the show. But now it's time to rewind back past season three, past season two, past season one even, to the time the Amelia gang were in upstate New York in order to pull off a disappearance at a popular food festival. And in today's episode, you'll finally get to hear exactly how that played out. Enjoy the show. All right, let's get this over with. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been 15 years since my last confession. Welcome back. What would you like to confess today?

I assumed my colleagues would have laid that out for you already. They both seemed pretty interested in talking about other things. I know you were all just at the tragic events that happened at the Salt City Potato Festival, and you helped some teens fake their own deaths, but that's about it. Well, I was hoping this would at least be somewhat efficient, but I guess I'll have to give you the full story. Yeah, I get that a lot. It's fine. I do honestly feel guilty about what ended up happening with our plan, so it's probably for the best. Oh, great. I was beginning to think I'd never find out what actually happened. Spill the beans.

Sorry, I mean, feel free to begin whenever you're ready. Well, it started about a week ago when we received a call on our answer phone from these two teenagers, young lovers from rival salt potato family empires looking for a way to build a life together despite years of conflict. Salt potato family empires? I had the same reaction, too. Apparently, it's a regional dish to Syracuse, just potatoes boiled in mountains of salt, traditionally German,

and brought over by immigrants in the 19th century. Oh, no, no, no. Sorry. I'm very well acquainted with the concept of salt potatoes. I was more surprised by the family empires part of that sentence. Ah, yes. That makes sense. Well, the story is still essentially the same. German families brought over salt potatoes and began growing them here in central New York. Two families, the Clausens and the Schultzes, built farms and slowly but surely built up what became the perennial salt potato suppliers for the entire region.

I had no clue. I've lived in this area for years and I've never heard of either of those names. Eh, nobody pays attention to where their food comes from. But yes, I'd bet every time you've spiked your sodium intake eating those tiny potatoes, it was grown on one of their farms. And these kids are from those families. Yes, Rosalind Schultz and Jacob Clausen. The Clausens and the Schultzes would never condone co-mingling with their rivals, but the two would see each other once a year at the Salt City Potato Festival.

the two would see each other once a year at the Salt City Potato Festival. They each have gigantic 1,000-gallon stockpots that stand right next to each other. Rosalyn and Jacob had the task of tossing potatoes into boiling pots and would silently communicate with each other. It started with glances, which the next year turned to passing notes and eventually became sneaking off against their parents' wishes to fall in love. That is quite the story. Yeah, our interviewer thought so too. We're pretty selective about the clients we take on, and normally escaping the family potato farm wouldn't qualify. But he's a bit of a romantic and more than a little prone to bardolatry, so the star-crossed lovers element left him thoroughly convinced. And you didn't want to help these kids. Eh, it seemed a bit too on the nose to me. But I wasn't going to rain on his parade.

Plus, I knew it would put us relatively close to New York City, so I figured it would allow us to hatch a bit of a birthday surprise for our colleague, Alvina. Her birthday was tonight, wasn't it? Things didn't go exactly as expected. What happened? We had a great plan. Every year at the Potato Festival, the youngest child of age is tasked with retrieving the prized potatoes from their family's respective stockpots, and this year that task just happened

to fall on our lovebirds. They typically each give a short speech before bringing their potatoes up the steps to the Syracuse Cathedral to be judged. By God? Gosh, I really know nothing about this festival. No, that's just where the judges' table is. The whole festival happens in the courtyard in front of the church. I do think they were supposed to have the bishop bless the potatoes, though. Regardless, it would never get to that point. Why not? Because the kids would be jumping into the stockpot,

pretending to boil themselves to death in front of hundreds of onlookers, when in truth, we'd design the stockpots in such a way that they could safely jump into the center without being boiled, and that could be snuck into the sewers below. Yeah, Salvina told me all about that, how you'd swap out their bodies with other cadavers. I'm still pretty disturbed by the whole concept, but she seemed genuinely proud.

She should be. It was a brilliant design for her to be able to create multiple temperature zones in a single pot without it being noticeable. We're lucky to have someone like her on board with us. And that was the whole plan? The kids jump into the not-so-boiling water to escape And then you replace them with other bodies of similar height and nobody's the wiser?

Ugh, I wish The problem with romantics like these children Is they need to layer in unnecessary dramatics to their plan They wanted their deaths to be a lesson. How do you mean? Their goal was for the stark visual of their deaths to prove to their families how foolish their fighting was. So they decided to write a speech decrying the tensions between their houses. And I take it you thought this was a bad idea?

The whole thing was senselessly naive, but stoking the emotions of two groups already teetering on the edge of violence? I made my thoughts clear the second he'd finished the interview and I heard the plan. But you went through with it anyway. Yes, I relented. Like I said, it was the perfect opportunity to surprise Alvina for her birthday. Plus, our interviewer was already swooning over the theater of it all at that point, and he convinced me it really didn't matter how the family responded

as long as our job was completed seamlessly. Which it was. Mostly. So what wound up happening there? We arrived at the festival midday. Our henchmen, Joey and Salvatore... Your what? Oh, sorry, figure of speech. Our companions, Joey and Salvatore... Your what? Oh, sorry, figure of speech. Our companions,

Joey and Salvatore, had arrived much earlier to replace the two large vats with the special ones Alvina had designed. It was their responsibility to retrieve the teens and insert the replacement bodies. I see. Well, we got a text from them around five in the morning about how uncomfortable they were committing crimes under the shadow of a cathedral. But my counterpart just replied, I'll assure the boys we have the perfect plan. No blaspheming will occur today. Why do I get the feeling that that did not end up being the case? We're getting ahead of ourselves. that that did not end up being the case.

We're getting ahead of ourselves. Anyway, the three of us you've met were fanned out amongst the throngs of fanny packs and novelty t-shirts that make up your town's population. Things were going perfect for the birthday surprise for Alvina. We'd hyped up this event as some worldly food festival and she had had this perfect is-this-really-it look on her face. Yes, it's been made very clear to me

that your organization is a bit more refined than the good people of this area. I can't say I'm surprised those two didn't hold back their food reviews. So what happened with the festival? I can only tell you about what happened from my perspective. After walking around a bit, I found myself a good view of the events next to a cotton candy vendor who was unsurprisingly getting very few customers. Wait, was it salt potato flavored cotton candy? Mm-hmm. One person came by and purchased a stick. The vendor even dipped the thing in butter, which created what appeared to be a textural nightmare. I shudder at the thought of that, honestly. Anyway, my view was

great for the competition itself. I was on the opposite side of the courtyard facing the front of the cathedral. Just down the steps was a large stage hovering 15 feet in the air, right behind the two gigantic boiling bats and potatoes. I watched as members of the Claussens and the Schulzes would approach their respective pots with large fishing nets, reaching down, securing a load of cooked salt potatoes to serve to the hungry throngs below. You could tell things between them were already reaching, for lack of a better word, a boiling point.

How so? The tight postures and nervous looks shared between Rosalyn and Jacob when members of their opposite families would be on stage at the same time were a dead giveaway. Plus, strangely, their parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins all had what appeared to be t-shirt cannons holstered on their belts. What, like the ones you'd see at a minor league baseball game? Exactly.

And when they'd get to the stage, they would constantly be hovering their hands over them. I wasn't sure of their purpose right away, but we were at a tipping point for sure, and it was pretty clear all anyone there needed was a gentle push for chaos to ensue. So what happened? We pushed. I see. The nervous hostility all around us only confirmed my earlier concerns about the plan. Still, I pridefully decided not to express them again and figured that there was no point in stopping it, given that everything was already in motion.

And you regret that now? Given what happened next? I do, Father. Go on. After about 30 minutes or so, it was time for the kids' big moment. They climbed the stairs to the elevated stage and stood above each of the respective stockpots. Traditionally, it's the winning family from the year before who gathers their potatoes to give the first speech. This year, that was set to be Rosalyn, so I watched as the hundred or so members of the Clausen family turned their backs to the stage in disgust.

Then there were gasps from the crowd as both of their voices began speaking the same speech in unison. To my family, I love and appreciate the life you have given me. But it is time I express myself to you. The person you see standing beside me is the love of my life. We were able to find magic within the dark world you have created. Through the tension between our two houses. Still, the anger you have has sprouted like poisonous flowers. Choking our freedom and dreams to a point we no longer see a path toward the sun. It is our final wish that our ends can form a new beginning for all of you. Let the salt in your potato hearts dissipate.

And be replaced with the candied sugar. Like so many sweet potatoes. The disturbing flatness of their voices as they spoke their words left the entire crowd in stunned silence. The Clausens turned around, mouths agape for a brief moment, allowing them to appear as a single body with the Schultzes, shocked, horrified at seeing the best among them so in concert with the other that they deemed evil. The speech only lasted about a minute, but given how frozen the bustling event had become, it felt like hours. And then they jumped. There was a desperate scream from members of both families as the kids fell into the water and then... Just the sound of boiling potatoes.

Jesus. Then what happened? After a couple seconds of shock, Clausen's and Schultz's alike rushed to the stage, peering down into the boiling water. It had been more than enough time for Joey and Salvatore to replace the bodies, so all anyone saw were two boiled corpses face down amongst hundreds of potatoes. Wailing began in front of both boiling pots, and then, after a moment, shouts of blame came from the Clausen family,

which were quickly returned by the Schultz's. You did this, you stupid spud. Why don't you come over here and say that to my face, you worthless sack of yam? Get them! It only took about 60 seconds between the kids jumping in the water to the first punch being thrown. A fight broke out? It started that way, yes, and I wish it ended there. Fist thrown, potato farmers being tossed on the stage. I saw one man put what looked like his teenage son in a potato sack and hurl him at the enemy family, knocking them over like bowling pins. My God, that sounds horrifying. Oh, that was only the beginning. Remember those t-shirt cannons I told you about?

Yes. Activate omega protocol. Really? I don't even know what that means. Just shoot the potatoes at him. Okay. I watched dumbfounded as both families began loading them with boiling hot salt potatoes. Seriously?

Do you know what happens, father, when you are hit by a boiling hot salted tuber at 100 miles an hour? I can't say I do. I can still hear the screams. All around me, people were dropping like flies. Some burned, some badly bruised. Concession stands began crashing down around me as potatoes rocketed people off their feet and into them.

Everyone started scrambling toward the church steps to get to higher ground, but that just brought the fighting outside and eventually into the cathedral. They were fighting inside the cathedral? The bishop must have been beside himself. Potatoes were flying everywhere. I scrambled with the crowd, trying to protect myself from the carnage, but got close enough to have a view inside. Stained glass windows were shattered, angelic statues crashing down from the crowd, trying to protect myself from the carnage, but got close enough to have a view inside. Stained glass windows were shattered,

angelic statues crashing down from the ceiling, decoratively handcrafted wrought iron rusting instantly from the extreme contact with salt. The entire cathedral was encrusted in such an absurd amount of starch that I can't imagine a power washer powerful enough to ever get that place clean. My god. The fighting lasted for about an hour before potato supplies began to run out and things were finally broken up. The families and spectators scrambled to their sides of the city, leaving behind hundreds injured and millions of dollars in property damage. That sounds horrible. Was everyone you were with all right?

We all got out physically fine, at least. Well, the man you'd met earlier tonight did take a potato to the gut, but mostly just complained about having to get his suit vest dry cleaned. Emotionally, though, this sent our colleagues Joey and Salvatore into a bit of a fit. They've never been ones to scold us for the delicate nature of our work, but they were furious about the damage to the church and were genuinely shaken about what it would mean for the state of our souls. And they insisted you come to confess.

Exactly. And, like I said, I've been feeling bad about this whole thing, so as skeptical as I was, I'm glad I'm here talking this through with you. I'm glad to hear it. Honestly, there's a lot about what you're talking about I don't understand, but I appreciate you being honest and expressing yourself openly here. What your organization does is...

concerning. And in the eyes of the church, this level of lawbreaking is certainly not something we condone. That said, I think it's admirable for you to see your own responsibility in these actions, and I think with some penance, I'd be happy to provide some absolution. Excuse me, Father, I actually haven't confessed to my sin yet. You haven't? No, not yet.

What about all the injuries, the damage to the cathedral? I admit that's all partially my fault, but I don't feel bad about any of that. What? How do you not feel bad about that? People like the Claussens and the Schultzes that pass their grudges down generation by generation like a worn pair of gardening shears, they were just looking for an excuse to have it out like that. A gust of wind in the wrong direction would have created the same problem. I don't feel bad about the inevitable happening and making two young romantics happier in the process. Plus, as payment, the kids each gave us a case of their family's priceless collections of

rare potato vodkas, which I will be drinking as soon as I return to forget that this weekend ever happened. I have to say, that is a really dark outlook on the situation. I think it's more of an honest one. So what do you feel bad about? Alvina. What about her? The birthday surprise! It was ruined! The entire city of Syracuse went on lockdown, so I couldn't get to my plane at the airport.

We even tried to board a train, which didn't work, but even if it had, we never had made it in time. I'd gotten us 6 p.m. reservations at Le Bernardin before an 8 p.m. showing of that big musical that came out last year. Hamilton? No, Fiddler on the Roof. Yes, of course, Hamilton. Fancy gift. And my pride ruined it. I should have known better, called off the disappearance when I saw things going sideways. Now Alvina is sitting in a van thinking we brought her here on her birthday to eat salt potato funnel cake and watch an imitation Gothic cathedral be leveled to the ground. Wait, so you don't feel guilty over the hundreds of people who were injured today, but you do feel guilty that your surprise birthday plan was ruined? I don't love your tone, Father, but yes, that's right. You people are genuinely terrifying.

Yeah, we get that a lot. Why couldn't you just go tomorrow? To what? The dinner and the show. To La Bernadette and Hamilton? You think I could just call and ask them to move us to tomorrow? Ugh, you really have to get out more, Father. Okay, fine.

So maybe that won't work. But are you just going to abandon the entire plan then? Not much else we can do at this point. Without giving anything away, I can tell you from my conversation with her that I don't honestly think it would take that much for Alvina to feel appreciated. She deserves something nice, though. So give her something nice. Look, it's not going to compare to Le Bernardin, but given that it's now 5.30 in the morning,

I can tell you there's a nice woman named Lexi down on Main Street who opens her donut shop at 6 a.m. They're a hell of a lot better than salt potatoes and probably the best tasting thing between here and New York City. Take her there. Alvina does love a pastry. You know, that's a genuinely helpful idea. Thank you. Like I said, you all scare the crap out of me. And while I do hope you come to realize that facilitating the kind of destruction

you did is wrong, it's nice that you care so much about your friend and want to do right by her. I appreciate that, Father. Thanks for the talk. Anytime. Well, hopefully not in the middle of the night next time. No promises. And Father? Yes? He told me a bit about your life. If you ever change your mind about wanting a way out, don't hesitate to give us a call. Can we please make our way home now? Where did Amelia need to go, anyway? She said she just needed to stop by a shop for a moment. Happy birthday!

What? Oh, you guys, you shouldn't have. What are these? Fresh donuts from a bakery our priestly friend recommended. Oh, well then I wouldn't be so... Oh my! What? Oh no, are they awful?

Oh no, quite the opposite. Oh, this is What? Oh, no. Are they awful? Oh, no. Quite the opposite. Oh, this is a genuine delight. Oh, try the glazed. Okay. Here goes. Mmm. Mmm. Oh, dear God. Mmm. God, I feel like this could give me a heart attack, but it is incredible.

All right, let me have one of these. Thank you, guys. For what? For a truly memorable birthday. Of course, Alvina. We really appreciate everything you do for us. Ew, yuck. What is it? What awful flavor is this?

Oh, she threw that one in for free. It was left over from the festival. A salt potato donut? What is wrong with these people? Seriously, how can you have a festival and only serve potatoes? Oh, did you try the soda? I did. Honestly, not too bad. I thought the same thing. Maybe we should pick some up for back at the office. Amelia, can you please drive us to the airport before Alvina loses all of her senses? I thought you'd never ask. Forgive Amelia, a triptych, is a production from Imploding Fictions and Rogue Dialogue.

This episode was written and directed by Jack Marone and Bob Ramunda. Story editing by Philip Thorne and Oystein Breaker. Here's our cast in order of appearance. Julia Morizawa. Amelia. Casey Callahan. Father Ben. Lindsay Zanna.

Rosalyn. Julia Seethorn. Alvina. Alan Bergen. The interviewer. Additional voices from... Bob Raimonda. Alan Bergen.

Joanna Ginsberg. Torgny G. Ondero. And Adam Raimonda. The Amelia Project's theme song composed by... Music arrangement, composition, sound design, and mixing by me, Adam Raymunda. Production assistance from... All of the graphic design for this crossover series comes from... And...

Thank you for listening to the final installment of our crossover series. As a reminder, we did live streamed performances of all three episodes. If you missed them, don't worry. You can watch a replay of the stream by supporting the Amelia Project or forgive me on Patreon. To become a patron of the Amelia Project, head over to patreon.com slash Amelia podcast. And to support forgive me, make your way over to patreon.com slash rogue dialogue. Making these episodes was an absolute blast. We hope you enjoyed them. Thanks for listening. We'll be back in late October, or if we reach our Patreon goal earlier than that. If you want to help our crowdfunding efforts, go to ameliapodcast.com and click on support the show.

As always, a huge thank you to all of our supporters and a special shout out to Oh, I wasn't, I meant we have a user. Eduardo Vifas Verrastaki, and I am trash. Oh, I wasn't, I meant we have a user, we have a patron whose username is I am trash. I wasn't, anyway. Okay, bye. The Fable and Folly Network, where fiction producers flourish. How much do you know about cryonic preservation? Cryonic preservation?

The preservation of human beings at extreme low temperature. You mean like Walt Disney? I swear to God, if you say anything about Walt Disney's frozen head, I'm hanging up this phone right now. Swear to me you've never heard of the Red Valley Seabolt until I just told you. I swear. I swear. Could you take your hand off my knee? Look, Warren, if they're sending the Butterwood and Melt new boy looking for

Red Valley, it'll be for a reason. Trust me. People are losing their lives in this company. We pulled him out too soon. He is awakening exactly as we planned. He's dying on me! We're all murderers here. We pulled him out too soon. He is awakening exactly as we planned. He's dying on me! We're all murderers here. Brian E, you, me, that doorman probably,

guy on the corner there with the neck tattoo. I bet he's killed someone. Would you like to cut his head off? I'm sorry. The saw is funny. Gordon, why are you sharing this stuff with me? Why are you smiling? I don't know.

I smile when things get awkward. Get in your golden bullet. Pick me up. You want to go to Red Valley? You want to go to Red Valley? Red Valley. Red Valley. Red Valley.

Red Valley. Red Valley. Red Valley. Red Valley is available on all podcast providers. Do you want to continue?