In this episode, Viktor Wilt descends onto the airwaves like a gremlin who slept inside a fog machine and woke up with his lungs coated in the spiritual residue of a Christmas metal opera. He opens the show already convinced he’s dying, maybe from the Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert, maybe from a rogue Idaho Falls weather spirit, maybe from inhaling 47 metric tons of arena fog — who can say? All we know is his chest is beefing with him, his voice is betraying him, and he has 10 billion chores to do this weekend, which is mathematically impossible but spiritually accurate.

As Viktor fights for survival, he mourns the death of good news topics, resulting in him desperately digging through the online ether, unearthing relics like: “What was seeing The Blair Witch Project in 1999 like?” which spirals him into reminiscing about a time when movies scared people but he personally was built different, forged in darkness, unshaken except by Resident Evil 7 VR, which nearly sent him to an early grave because of imaginary stairs.

Meanwhile East Idaho is being haunted by exactly 27 ghosts at the Yellowstone Hotel, and the Ghost Adventures crew finally breached its cursed upper floor after two years of negotiating with probably both the owners and the dead. Viktor treats this with the seriousness it deserves (ghosts = awesome, NDA = suspicious, potential hauntings = vibes).

Then comes the Freak News segment, which immediately collapses into Florida reports of a naked man claiming to be doing a TikTok challenge in 36-degree weather. Viktor, in his weakened state, can only sigh in spiritual exhaustion at humanity. And yet, he trudges on, coughing, wheezing, begging for ibuprofen like it’s a forbidden artifact.

Then Jade bursts into the studio with the precise chaotic energy of a raccoon flung into a trampoline park, and the two of them begin recounting the Trans-Siberian Orchestra experience like trauma survivors describing a pyrotechnic Christmas war zone. They discuss the fog machines that attempted to assassinate an audience member, the fire that came in every color known and unknown, drones strafing the arena with lights, and the metal riffs so crushing they liquefied children’s minds. Jade keeps saying “fire” like a Beavis and Butt-Head soundboard that achieved sentience. Viktor keeps trying not to hack up a lung. Together they are unstoppable.

They also roast Josh, who raised $3,000 for the Ronald McDonald House but is still Josh, so Viktor refused to go see him in the morning out of sheer principle.

By the end, Viktor is staggering into the outro like a wounded soldier crawling through cinematic battlefield smoke, urging listeners to “try not to be an irritant,” relaying the tale of a woman whose husband is such a catastrophically annoying sports-watcher that it has destroyed her will to live. Viktor recommends “dump him” as casually as one might recommend trying a new shampoo.

And then, like a fog-shrouded Christmas phoenix, he signs off — swearing he’ll return for more mayhem later, assuming he isn’t killed by phantoms, fog, Florida men, or domestic irritants.