When asked a simple question about rain, Bootstuck responds the only way it knows how: with large-scale tarp engineering and aggressively sticky-tacked grocery bags. Why spend $800 on a rain shell when you can fashion one from leftover Piggly Wiggly plastic and optimism? Spring has arrived, which means it’s time to string up old military tarps between trees, relocate the outhouse five feet to the left (or left), and reconsider the town’s 72-foot-deep sewage strategy.

Along the way we meet Ricky Martin — possibly a ferret, definitely a little rickety — debate the true meaning of “infrastructure” (apparently a tall chair), and reserve time at Bootstuck’s exclusive seven-by-twenty-two-foot beach. Footwear innovation also reaches new heights with the invention of “sandless” sandals: a Kleenex box you simply step into. Waterproofing, waste management, and weather preparedness have never been handled with less concern and more confidence.

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Tape 63 begins with an earnest attempt to advocate for dark matter, quickly pivoting into a passionate defense of Pluto, now rebranded as “Dwarfy,” a misunderstood ice dwarf traveling the wrong way and apparently deserving emotional support. A surprise interruption by Neil deGrasse Tyson does little to clarify matters, as Pluto’s size, temperature, and relationship to the sun are debated with mixed metaphors and diminishing patience.

Back on Earth, attention turns to Bootstuck’s latest infrastructure project: a public bus that doesn’t move. Inspired by Into the Wild, the town has placed a lightly painted blue bus deep in the woods to attract tourists, photos, and eventually souvenirs, population growth, better education, and—if all goes well—a Walmart. The plan hinges on recirculated social media flyers, a possible air show, and the assumption that people will simply find the bus. The episode concludes with preparations to “gather around,” a boot-lace prank, and a final word of wisdom delivered under extreme urgency.

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Tape 62 opens with a discussion of silliness that quickly spirals into confusion over string, strength, and a much-anticipated “stripper” coming to town—revealed to be strictly for removing paint, not clothing. From there, spring preparations begin in earnest, including plans to repaint fallen leaves and reattach them to trees with Caleb’s help, sometime between now and mid-May.

Seasonal activities in Bootstuck include off-leash Caleb time, group “adventure rallies” involving shouting in the woods, and the long-awaited arrival of a mapmaker who may or may not be able to find the town. Elsewhere, major cultural developments unfold: mint inside chocolate, an inconvenience store that sells nothing useful, and pretzels that are generously de-salted by hand. The episode ends with geographic clarifications about rivers, lakes, and the continued absence of ships.

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Tape 61 begins as a rambling voicemail about making a very urgent personal decision, before veering into a rescue operation involving a lost baby raccoon, an upside-down milk container, and Caleb acting as both lookout and chair. Along the way, concerns are raised about Caleb’s homemade cigarettes, soup sandwiches, and whether bagels are named for what they are or the bags they come in.

The conversation drifts into ambitious plans to grow sesame “trees” across Bootstuck following a small fire, guided by a “blueprint” that turns out to be a faded Green Day t-shirt. The episode closes with reflections on color, music, and landscape, landing on the conclusion that while the plans may be questionable, Bootstuck could definitely use more music.

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In this episode, Bootstuck checks off another major cultural milestone after finally finishing Who’s the Boss—though it takes some time to determine whether the title refers to the vacuum man, the working woman, or the elderly authority figure who “likes a lot of sex and tells everybody what to do.” Confident they’ve solved it, the group prepares to move on to Perfect Strangers, pluralized for safety.

The conversation shifts to springtime and snow removal, which in Bootstuck does not involve shovels, blowers, or common sense. Instead, Caleb has been personally eliminating the snow by warming it in his hands and blowing on it until it turns to water. This method is defended as both scientific and superior, since shovels only relocate snow and create “bigger piles,” which solves nothing.

From there, the episode detours into one of Bootstuck’s most important information systems: the social media flyer. Rather than being printed locally, the flyer simply blows into town—preferably as a double-pager—and is mounted on Bill’s board for communal reading. Its contents are loosely interpreted, sometimes invented, and then loudly explained to anyone nearby. This is how Bootstuck learns about hardware sales, global weather events, rumored Britney Spears concerts, and—most urgently—the approaching blueberry season.

As the interviewer slowly realizes these flyers may just be newspapers drifting in from Somewhere Else, distance itself becomes questionable, measured not in miles but in “sixteen songs and a cigarette.” By the end of the tape, Bootstuck remains proudly informed, wildly inaccurate, and fully dependent on the wind to keep them up to date.

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The episode opens with a chaotic voicemail and quickly spirals into a very Bootstuck conversation about frozen rivers, rubber-banding birds to make them quieter, and the town’s proudly nonsensical “fish maze.” As the caller tries (and fails) to get a coherent answer from Bootstuck’s resident rambler, the discussion veers into Valentine’s Day preparations, including a contest involving hearts hidden around town — some carved, some hung, some written in the snow in ways that probably shouldn’t be encouraged.

In the middle of this already-crumbling dialogue, the caller learns that Bootstuck is preparing for a major celebrity arrival: the pop artist Lorde, who they believe is visiting the township next week. The town is scrambling to “Jimmy up” the billboard in her honor, though no one seems certain who Jimmy is, where Bill went, or why any of this is happening. As the confusion deepens — involving a 14-foot door that scares rabbits and the mystery of “holes in the wall near your knees” — the call ends the only way Bootstuck calls ever can: suddenly, chaotically, and with the caller begging for it to stop.

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This tape begins as an attempt to discuss traffic conditions in Bootstuck and immediately collapses into a strange meditation on Dave’s “back 40,” which turns out not to be land at all, but a graveyard of empty bottles and 14 immobile cars. Before the conversation can gain any structure, Jonathan Frakes drunkenly bursts into the recording, mutters something unintelligible, and disappears—an event the Bootstuck resident barely acknowledges before resuming his ramble. From there, the narrator is dragged through a baffling tour of Bootstuck infrastructure: snow-rubbing for warmth, a DIY sewage system powered by four milkshake straws, and a workforce consisting almost entirely of one overburdened and exploding Caleb. The transcript ends on a chillingly casual promise that another plane crash would really help boost local commerce.

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In this tape, two residents attempt to solve problems they clearly do not understand, beginning with the collapse of the township’s food supply and spiraling into Dave’s catastrophic “shed incident” involving a porcupine, several gallons of maple syrup, and far too much confidence. What follows is a wandering, deeply unhelpful conversation covering toilet paper hoarding, black licorice optimism, dangerous transportation ideas, and a revolutionary invention meant to help men fake childbirth empathy. As usual, nothing is resolved and everything somehow gets worse.

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