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entrepreneurs like you. Sign up for your $1 a month trial at Shopify.com slash setup. This October, the wrong station celebrates a decade of dread.

You can read the show notes to discover terrible new ways to celebrate with us.

Today's episode, The Thief and the Mayors, is written and performed by Anthony Betelow. I'm I'm I'm I'm I'm I'm I'm I'm I'm I'm I'm I'm I'm It could be said that the chief occupation of the thief, aside of course from that most obvious one of taking into possession that which is not theirs, is knowing what others do not, knowing what hours a man keeps, and when he will be away from home, which stones offer the best handhold up to

his window, or which blocks in a cellar wall are close to crumbling, and may be chipped away from the

cellar adjoining, knowing which soldiers patrol which neighborhoods, and which among them are

prone to drink and other allures, knowing which roads a merchant may use to enter the

city, and with what goods, and when, and if one knife will be sufficient.

Knowing, in this particular case, which cells in the city jail, that carved rock face within the palace grounds,

had bars most ready for prying, and which nights of the year, the festival of teeth tonight,

for instance, might see all the other cells filled up. Oh, how he blubbered and muled,

playing to the guard's cruelty, all but ensuring that he

would be tossed into this darkest, most wet, and secluded room. Exactly as was his intention.

The fools. Now he was crouched in the corner, using the wrought iron nails he'd kept hidden in his

cheeks to chip away at the rotten stone and old clay that held the bars in place.

Stupid old Pideros, he'd been the one who'd first noticed, having been thrown in here to

away trial after some petty theft.

But poor old Pideros, always struggling to fashion a thought,

did not know what to do with his knowledge.

...