Spring stirs something in Bootstuck, and apparently that something is an ocean under construction. What began as a single hole, diligently filled with Caleb’s 17 buckets of water, has now become a civic engineering project—one bucket per week until the town achieves “ocean status.” Skeptics suggest it’s more of a pond, but optimism prevails.

In equally practical fashion, the locals have invented short pants by cutting long ones in half, rotating them daily so that nobody has to fully commit to shorts or trousers. “Pants is pants is pants,” after all.

A sudden burst of applause interrupts, revealing the town-wide enthusiasm for Sacky Mac, a game involving chasing down a man named Mac and trying to stuff him into a sack. Cheers are mandatory, orchids are breathed upon, and Elvis—always Elvis—sings, fights, dances, and, inevitably, falls in love.

From there, the conversation drifts into top hats (“aren’t they all top hats, since you wear them on top?”), mistaken identity (a man endlessly confused with someone named Ted), and Bootstuck’s laissez-faire approach to airport management—whoever’s around that day is in charge. No flights today, but by Saturday two “whirlybirds” are expected to arrive as part of their spring migration. These aren’t helicopters, mind you, but flap-flapping, squiggly-tailed creatures that apparently choose Bootstuck as a seasonal stopover.

The episode closes with the promise of contact—though whether with machines, birds, or simply more buckets of water, remains uncertain.

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This week in Bootstuck, a new civic initiative is announced: treasure chests filled with nickels and notes will be hidden around town, doubling as both a wishing well and a municipal mystery. Meanwhile, preparations are underway for a “cake show,” featuring Gerald popping out of one, Caleb baking another, and Dave inevitably producing something spaghetti-shaped.

The town also attempts a census by slapping numbered sticky notes on people’s heads—accuracy optional. And as winter ends, the community embraces “nude racing” through the sugar bush, a spring ritual that is apparently faster than skidoos, shinier than Dave’s new spools, and only slightly less confusing than the crossed transmission of a Torontonian hog who lays eggs.

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Bootstuck continues its grand tradition of opening businesses that should not exist. Fish Beach, the town’s only two-fish restaurant, is thriving thanks to its “hooking parties,” while Tongues and Toes — the shoe-store-coffee-house hybrid that once served cups of Joe’s literal ashes — is finally closing its doors. (Don’t worry, the locals are going back to drinking gravy.)

The conversation drifts to childhood snacks (wagon wheels, children — same thing), oddly colored elbows, and Bootstuck’s unusual take on pharmacy services. At Dave’s Dependency Depot, you can get everything from red licorice to Viagra, depending on Dave’s mood and availability. No one’s worried about addiction because, as the caller insists, “everybody’s doing it.”

A nap may be the only safe prescription.

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The latest tape finds our documenter once again baffled by Bootstuck’s cast of interrupters, half-formed ideas, and curious definitions of everyday life.

It begins with a supposed “hat guy” sighting, quickly derailed by a newcomer who can’t open his mouth more than a finger-width. From there, the conversation slides into a burned kettle story, the philosophy of “smart ass” versus “dumb ass,” and a failed attempt to pin the label on Steven.

Dave is caught walking on a treadmill—not for health, but apparently because he refuses to buy darker clothing. He’s also hoping to whiten his teeth, though the advice he receives is to simply get a tan. Meanwhile, a mysterious strain of “poker music” plays in the background, connected to a very peculiar card game that involves shuffling but somehow keeps all the cards in place.

The main event, however, is an upcoming Bootstuck barbecue, which no one in town seems to have ever held before. Jerry prepares by licking plates clean (despite a noticeable wobble in his walk), while anticipation builds around the arrival of Barb from Yonder—who will allegedly line everyone up and ask questions. Whether this is a community gathering, a ritual, or a square dance audition remains uncertain, but the Bootstuck crew seem delighted either way.

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Tape 40 opens with an image that’s equal parts slapstick and unsettling: Caleb, attempting what he calls “skywalking,” ties his shoelaces around his hands until he can’t breathe, only to be spun around, slapped on the backside, and sent rolling down a hill like a roly-poly bug. Inexplicably, Hat Guy leaves the room mid sentence to holler a bunch of cattle off the front lawn. From there, the conversation shifts to springtime, a subject taken with Bootstuck’s usual logic: last year it meant Caleb strapping springs to his shoes; this year it will mean scattering springs across the forest floor so that no matter where you step, “it’s always spring.”

The discussion meanders through maroon Pontiacs, pastel colors, and the persistent complaint that everyone in Bootstuck interrupts each other. Dave drifts in with thoughts on gas mileage, while a failed attempt to spell “psychiatrist” leads to the revelation that Bootstuck has no doctors for the mind—only one who deals with ingrown toenails. Mental health, it seems, is handled socially: if someone feels blue, Steven paints them red until they’re a different color and “all’s good.”

The tape ends with a plan for a “fashion show at lunch,” a recurring event that involves burlap sacks and questionable creativity. While most will opt for the simple hole-in-the-top approach, Dave apparently intends to fashion burlap chaps—an idea received with the confused question: “You can see your bones?”

Tape 40 is as fractured as it is vivid: a portrait of a town where footwear physics, psychiatry, and lunchtime couture share equal importance, and where coherence is always just out of reach.

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The tape opens with a heated accusation of lying, quickly derailed into a plan for a New Month’s Resolution: stop working out and start smoking (though the order is negotiable). A discussion of pizza geometry (round box, square pie, triangle slice) swerves into the concept of “topic drift,” which apparently includes drifting cars in Tokyo via mysterious wind power.

Attention shifts to Stephen “Marbles” — a Bootstuck local with mismatched legs and shoes that somehow even out. His nickname sparks a brief shouting match of “Marbles!” before a strange “ding, ding, ding” interrupts. The host rushes outside, tangled in an extra-long phone cord, only to be hit in the eye with an orange while it’s snowing heavily.

This prompts the revelation of 16 feet of snow (measured as 768 buckets), with Caleb on “bucket duty” and a warning against alternative uses for the bucket. Barry, a newcomer “from somewhere else” (population: sign, flag, post, and a soon-to-arrive office), is expected to help dig out tomorrow — assuming the uphill, no-tire traffic doesn’t stop him.

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The tape begins with a triumphant ode to soup — thick enough to hold a flag and hotter than rice — before veering into an odd declaration that “science is a fact.” This somehow segues into a taxonomy lesson where chickens are “land fish” and tuna is “the chicken of the sea.”

A grim food memory surfaces: polishing off a case of tuna, only to realize the tins bore a picture of a cat. From there, dinner talk becomes a roulette of chickpeas, mashed pumpkin, and the occasional mystery can — sometimes opened “between your legs” to check for “different nuts.”

It all ends with an inexplicable cigarette commercial and the cryptic farewell: “Always down, never up.”

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What begins with a vague reference to “current affairs” quickly turns into another Bootstuck spiral of half-finished thoughts, potatoes, and emotional trauma. The narrator once again attempts to document meaningful insight from the townsfolk, only to be met with suspicious snuggling rumors, unsettling clown chatter, and a sudden confession about itchy necks and abandoned parents. Somewhere in the chaos, a circus is being planned — or perhaps invented on the spot. Either way, Dave is involved, Caleb may be painting horses, and someone has three photos of snails ready for the big show.

Highlights:

• A cryptic tutorial on “squeezing it a bit” leads directly into a conversation about current affairs, specifically Dave and Rita’s suspicious offseason snuggling.
• Circus talk begins: Caleb may paint horses; Geraldine is offering pigs and mud; snails will be slowly paraded.
• A debate on whether to include clowns. The official position: “Bootstuck ain't got time for evil.”
• Redneck lineage, parental abandonment, and a plaid jacket left behind by a father who disappeared when the speaker was three.

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