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Tape 14 opens with what I can only describe as an audio endurance test. Our slow-talking, never-named narrator yawns his way into a conversation about Bootstuck’s latest developments—if you can call them that. We’re introduced to the annual Carve-Off, a celebration of, well, carving... though the categories are as off-kilter as everything else in Bootstuck. Caleb will be carving wood, naturally, while Dave has committed to carving spaghetti. Yes. Spaghetti. Apparently, you'll have to be there to see it, which seems like an intentional threat at this point.

And then things get even more unhinged. Enter John Maximum, Bootstuck’s only known real estate agent, who visits annually to hand out calendars and gift baskets to residents. His pitch: invest in Bootstuck’s highly valuable roadside acorns and pinecones, which are apparently the backbone of the local economy. Acorns with intact tops seem to hold particular prestige, though no one—not even the narrator—fully understands why.

The episode, if you can call it that, spins completely off the rails with an attempt to set up a transatlantic communication system using a bean can and a soup can connected by string. Predictably, it's declared incompatible. Things spiral into what I can only describe as an improvised, off-key acorn anthem before the tape mercifully cuts out.

At this point, I’m not sure if I’m being toyed with, trolled, or slowly indoctrinated into the Church of Bootstuck. Regardless, I’m still listening... against all better judgment.

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This tape opens, inexplicably, with a commercial for explosion protection—a service that suggests either Bootstuck has a blast radius problem, or someone got a little too ambitious with a microwave.

Our unnamed slow-talking friend returns shortly after, pondering the mystery of why pizzas are round, boxes are square, and leads to pitch of his latest business venture: a pizza place called Been Around.

Hat Guy arrives just in time to derail it with a fist fight and another unsolicited monologue about hat ownership. Somewhere in the chaos, we learn of a regional pastime: watching stacks of discarded VHS tapes featuring partial TV broadcasts, static, and Who's The Boss. This is followed by a German man yelling about Brand X in what may be a hijacked frequency or possibly just the neighbor’s HAM radio again.

I’m thirteen tapes deep and still have no concrete information, but I’m absolutely convinced someone’s having a laugh—and unfortunately, it might be me.

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Just when I think I might be closing in on something concrete, Bootstuck takes a sharp turn back into the absurd. Tape 12 introduces us to Terrence, a man who apparently lives in a place called Nearby, which—naturally—is not nearby at all. It’s 70 kilometers away or, as Dave puts it, “seven songs,” depending on his mood and fuel level.

The rest of the tape is a dizzying preview of the upcoming Bootstuck Fair, a community gathering where you can get a license plate painted on your face or elbow (your choice), choke down force-fed funnel cake, and visit a “petting zoo” made up of whatever living creatures could be coaxed into a field that morning.

Hat Guy returns with more qualifications—this time ranked on Bootstuck’s patented “Interesting Abilities Scale.” Apparently flatulence earns high marks. Of course it does.

I now have vague locations, unverifiable names, and not a single Googleable reference. And with hundreds of tapes still ahead, it’s becoming clear that this project won’t end in clarity—but I’m far too deep to stop now.

So I’m settling in.

Probably should’ve done that ten tapes ago.

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