Last Podcast On The Left - Episode 65: Creepypasta III: The Hamburgering

Episode Date: February 17, 2015

It's creepypasta time again! Join us as we read stories about sentient severed heads, haunted children, and shared dream experiences. Plus! Henry gives us a report from LA about the Canadian tourist found in a hotel water tank and the creepy past of the hotel itself.

Oh, it's been a while, Henry Zabrowski, turn in letters like it's my job. Well, I mean, if you're a fan of white Henry Zabrowski, it is your job. That is true. They put me to work. I reveal the mysteries to the fat people on the television show. Wow, that's fascinating. What letter do you like to see best when you turn it over? Which one really gets you tickled?

G. Big G. G. G. G. That's how you describe it? Oh, yeah. You're big. G. You get $9 million for your G. Los Angeles is stupid. But there's some pretty fun Los Angeles stories going on right now, aren't there? Oh, man.

It's like, besides, I mean, Dorner, whichever one's covered a million points over. Dead, dead, dead. What I love though, still, I'm going to say one thing about the fact that when there was he hijacked a car and he was driving, this Asian couple was driving down a road and then all of a sudden, Dorner in full fucking Rambo gear with like fucking leaves on his head and a four foot sniper rifle comes out and he's just like, I'll be taking your car now. And he takes the car and drive, they drive off, but he just like takes their car. And it's just like, yeah, I mean, you give him your car.

You got to give him your car. I give him my sandwich, you know, if I was eating one, I'd be like, here you go, mister. Please don't bring me into your game of death. I mean, do you think that he would want your sandwich? I suppose maybe he's a little bit hungry from being on the run for so long. Absolutely. Yeah, because he couldn't, I mean, he wrote his manifesto in a fat burger. You know that.

Yeah, definitely. No doubt about that. When he got them, when they sent out the manifesto, it was covered in ketchup stains. Over all grease. The hand stain. Yo, yeah, exactly. Like if I were to write a manifesto. Uh-huh.

Yeah, exactly. You just write it with the grease from your finger. Yeah, absolutely. Jesus Christ. But Henry, so you have a sandwich and Dorner wants you to give it to him, but what about one of those stinky burritos you've been eating? Fuck him. Yeah.

I will die with my burrito with my cold dead hands. No one's taken my burrito. Wow. You have a very NRA stance on that. I like it. Yeah. You're pro burrito. NBA.

Yeah. National Burrito Association. Yeah, you got to start it. That's what they should change the basketball thing too. Oh, I think that's funny. That's funny. They dribbled burritos instead of balls. That's not going to work.

That's crazy. That's not going to work. The Nets are going to get dirty. Yeah. They will get dirty. Yeah, you got all these Mexicans in there and it's a tiny basketball game. That is true. They tend to be shorter.

That is true. Do it in a row. Very nice. Very, very nice. You write what you know. I am in Los Angeles. Uh-huh. All right.

You are also Hong Kong, Henry Zabrowski, so you know quite a bit about the Asian folks as well. Isn't there a hot store going on right now involving one of those? All right. So the Elisa Lam case is one of the more frightening, I mean, because in the end, we're doing creepy pasta today to scare people. And honestly, this case has scared the living shit out of me reading about it. This woman, Elisa Lam, she was visiting Los Angeles for Vancouver.

Now, we put up a video not that long ago, basically showing the last known footage of this woman, which was on January 29th, she went missing. She stopped calling her parents. Well, first of all, I'm not even really sure why she was visiting LA, because I don't think she was an actress. Well, at this point, she's just, you know, doing what every single porn star does. You know, moves to LA, stops calling their parents, nothing too creepy quite yet. But so they found this elevator footage, which is on her Facebook page.

We'll put it back up on the website, where you see her visibly scared, talking to herself. She presses all the elevator buttons. I don't know if you noticed that too. She's looking around. She's talking to nobody. And then that was the last that anyone had heard of her. Some people think that she was talking to somebody, though. Some people think that she was talking to her kidnapper, perhaps.

Yeah, but what was she doing? Where was she going? Well, anyway. Up. Up. If you're on the ground floor and you're in an elevator, you have one place to go, my friend. She done taken that elevator to heaven.

Oh, yeah. If there was a heaven. I can't think about it. God, I can't wait for you to just ruin my funeral when you just tell my parents all these terrible things and they cry and cry. It might wake me up because death isn't real. That's right. So and then in the best possible way for the story to end, she is found in a water tanker

on top of the hotel Cecil in downtown Los Angeles and Skid Row, Los Angeles, which yeah, we're Skid Row. It's like where the name Skid Row came from. It is the biggest piece of shit part of any city that exists. The band Skid Row never actually went to Skid Row. They drove by it very fast in their father's car that he had lent them out for the night so go drinking and be overall white. What was their famous song?

18. We are the 18 and life to go. We are the young, my friend. Yeah. No, I loved Skid Row. Me too, man. They fucking rule. They still do.

They're really good in the Jekyll and Hyde musical. Oh, yes. He actually was very good in that. He's got a set of pipes on him, him and that Mariah Carey. Oh, yeah. I've heard about that. Love it. That's it.

I fell away in that girl. So anyway, so they found her in a water tower. Were people drinking from this water? Absolutely. So there for a week? For like three weeks, they think out of here. She was entirely rotted out. She had been there for like two weeks.

People were drinking it. They say it's not going to make you sick. You just found folded up. Oh, that makes you sick. A decomposing human body in the water supply, that makes you sick. No harmful bacteria in the hotel water tank where the dead forest was found. That's bullshit. Yeah.

But I love about this story. He's also imagining like a big fat, like 300 pound dude going like, like in the bathtub like with a big shower cap on, wash itself with a thing and then the water stops. And he's just like, what is going on with my, oh, this is my afternoon bath. Yes. And then a toe just comes through. Yeah. No, it says there was a, the county health said that there was enough chlorine in the

water tank to prevent any kind of harmful bacteria. Oh, well, it's nice to know we're drinking chlorine. It's always good to be drinking what, what you swim in the public pool with. Enough chlorine to break down a human body is what you're drinking every day. Jesus. Yeah. That's the thing. She wasn't even decomposed.

She was pickled for Christ's sake. She came out there like a goddamn cucumber. So they've been researching. So basically they're saying that they don't know how she died because they have no idea the police officer was trying to say, it was like reading this about how like it may have been accidental. It's like, oh yeah. You accidentally slip and fall into the water supply and have the fucking top of the water

sister be locked on top of you. Oh yeah. Yeah. It definitely every single time. Oh, she must have been carrying a bunch of Christmas presents and slipped on a fucking banana peel. It happens. And this is why daughter went crazy with the LAPD because it was, oh, well, you never

know. And it's like, man, she's, she's got spent boots on for Christ's sake. I went through a DUI checkpoint last night and I was drunk and I got passed real quick because I looked just like the officer. If you know what I'm saying, LAPD is a crooked bunch of motherfuckers. They're the worst police group on the face of the plant. They're evil. Yeah.

No, it sounds like they are. So what's happening with this case? Are they just closing it? Well, we found her. They found her. They said they're doing toxicology reports, but the, the best part of this whole story is that the hotel Cecil is a serial killer stomping ground. Yeah.

It is a, Richard Ramirez lived there for his entire killing spree. Another guy named Jacques Unterweger, who was an Austrian serial killer, also lived there. Yeah. You can only sell cream cheese or be a serial killer with that name. And I love it how like people who live next door to Richard Ramirez said that all he would do is smoke weed, listen to loud music and, you know, and just hang loose. So technically my neighbors will have the same story about me.

Uh-huh. Yeah, they will. Without all the murdering. Yeah. They also said that he was just dumping his bloody clothes in the dumpster at the end of his evening, going in the back entrance. So he would go home, dump his bloody clothes in and walk up naked through all these transients. $14 a night.

Wow. $14 a night. It's a steal. Yeah. It is a steal. The Jacques Unterweger story is really fucking compelling. He killed three girls in Austria. He got sentenced to life in prison.

Basically, he wrote this autobiography, I forget what it's called, it's called like the people in the prisons. And then the entire country was like so moved by his story that they were screaming for his release. Gunter Grass, a Nobel Prize winning author, came out and said like, we have to release this man. He's learned his lesson. 15 years into his sentence, he's released.

He becomes like this darling of the press. He goes to New York, he comes to LA to basically like to talk with people about why people commit crimes and then proceeds to stay at the hotel Cecil and murder 15 more prostitutes by strangling them with their bras and then sexually assaulting them with tree branches. Wow. How do you get the tree branches in there? Evil Dead. Yeah.

Evil Dead. Interesting. Unterweger. Unterweger. Unterweger. Jacques Unterweger. Oh, wow. Yeah.

That's amazing. And then he proceeded to, when he got caught again, a year later, like he committed suicide in his jail cell, tying the same exact knot that he used to kill the prostitutes. With the, was it a brazier though? Did they get him abroad? With shoelaces. With shoelaces. That's good.

Yeah. That's why they only get prisoners stickers these days. Absolutely. Unterweger. Unterweger. Unterweger. Unterweger. I think that was because they wanted them to relax.

Yeah. It's a stressful place prison. Yeah. Put up your feet. Yeah. It's a suicide spot. Okay. Yes.

Yeah. Helen Gurney. A woman jumped. Yeah. I love this story too. Yeah. A woman jumped out of her building. Yeah.

And another woman, Julia Moran, 62. She left behind a bus ticket from St. Louis. 59 cents and an Illinois bank account book showing a balance of $1,800. However, the best one is Pauline Oten. She jumped from a ninth floor window after an argument with her estranged husband. Oten landed on George Giannini, 65, who was walking on the sidewalk. Both were killed instantly. Oh, isn't that a fun way to, it's raining women and then sure enough, it actually is.

That's very sad. And then Pigeon Goldie Osgood, a retired telephone operator, was found. Pigeon? Pigeon Goldie. Pigeon Goldie. Yeah, I am. Is she a dog? Well, she was known for protecting and feeding the pigeons at nearby Pershing Square.

She was stabbed, strangled, and raped and the case has never been solved. Pigeons did it. Absolutely. It's like Catwoman. Absolutely. She came back as a female pigeon, but just no one, no one bought her as a supervillain. No, these, again, it's just this whole fucking town is just filled with sad stories. So, these are just the same girls.

It's like, if they had just lived a week longer, they would have been in the room. You know, like they would have been in like, Bird Demek, the people that can't find anything else. They're just doing toilet paper commercials. Of course, The Room is the worst movie of all time. Yes. Any actress would love to be in it. So is the LAPD, or you specifically, on the hunt for a serial killer right now?

Because, Henry, if the LAPD isn't going to get their heads out of their asses, you're going to have to solve this crime yourself, my friend. Oh, I'm going down to Skid Row. Okay. I got my Sherlock Holmes hat and I got my, I got a big long jacket going down there. I'm going to, I'm going to mix it up. These people don't know about the city. They don't know my fucking East Coast energy.

That's true. What's your, what's your shakedown, Henry? Oh, hey, how are you, Detective Zora? Oh, I'm going to do it as Detective Popcorn. Okay. Detective, oh, hey there, Detective Popcorn. How can I help you? Oh, tell me.

I have a couple of questions for you. Oh, my. Do you ever, do you ever rape an animal? No? No, no. Oh, well, then I guess you're fine. Fantastic. I'm just going to go back to raping this animal.

Detective Popcorn, I'm tired of your hot shot antics. Oh, I just want the people to enjoy me, all my, all my crunch and goodness. Don't you choke on my kernels now, because sometimes they can call up on the top of the roof of your mouth. Oh, I hate that. And sometimes at the back of your tongue, and I hate to cause you this cupful. Detective Popcorn, how do you answer the allegations that you were responsible for Chris Dorner's firing?

Oh, oh, you know, I never want to see anybody frown. I only want to inspire people with my buttery texture who gets some napkins. You don't want to get any grease stains on your new Levi's. Did you notice any rampant racism with the LAPD? Oh, they hated my yellow. They hated the fact that I was, I was half yellow, half white, but in the end, I won them over with my buttery goodness. Did they treat you differently?

This is so sad. Oh, it hands all up around me looking for the tiniest, crunchiest kernel. Oh, that's not right. You didn't deserve that popcorn. I can't do it anymore. All right. Well, let's just. Literally could do it for four hours.

I love Detective Popcorn. I know. Yeah. I could keep going with that. All right. Well, let's just, let's just get right here into it here with some creepy pasta. Henry, did you want to start us off with that? This is the thing, again, in the night times, you know, you close your eyes, so you leave

yourself truly vulnerable to anything that can happen to you, especially out here in these mean city streets, city of angels, sometimes is that a fire in the brush or is that the skin of a demon? Hmm. I don't know. I don't know. Let's get creeped out, y'all. Are you Paula Dean?

What happened? Let's get creeped out, y'all. All right, y'all. All right, y'all, put some sugar on it. All right, here's a, here is a story called Flash from one of the idiots on 4chan. Every fucking night. It's 3.47 in the morning and I've woken up for the 12th time in a row due to the same thing.

I keep seeing it in my dreams, a bright flash that wakes me up around the same times every night. I stare out the window at the rain, at least tonight it makes sense, lightning. If the weather reports were accurate, the storm started about two hours ago and should be well on its way out of my sweety little town here in just a couple of minutes. I watched the swing on the tree in our yard swing lazily back and forth in the wind. The thunder is distant. I love when it gets this way, when the aggressive clapping of the thunder has moved a few miles

in any direction, it becomes less of a sharp ripping sound and more like a whispered lullaby. It's not something I get to hear often. I turn over to look at my wife, still sleeping peacefully next to me. I consider telling her about the flashes again but decide against it. Let's face it, she's a psychiatrist, she'll probably just start to worry about tumors or something. I kiss her lightly on the cheek and a smile touches the corners of her lips. She must be having a sweet dream.

That must be nice. Ever since the flashes started, it's been dark hallways and distorted faces in my dreams every night. I've been chalking up to a mixture of my interrupted sleep schedule and my worry about whatever is causing this weird flashing every night. There doesn't seem to be anyone else that's had anything similar but they say brain cancer can manifest itself in a lot of different ways. God, listen to myself.

I'm never going to get to sleep this way. But that's the point. It's just going to happen again in a couple of hours. I'll be lost in a forest or a library or descending down an endless spiral staircase lit by torches and flash. I'll wake up again. I sigh and roll over to face the window. The storm is gone now.

My clock says it's 4.45. I'll be torturing myself for almost an hour. Enough. I decide and close my eyes, determined to sleep through the rest of the night. Just about to my finally trip off to sleep again. Flash! I snap my eyes open and whip my head around and look at the clock. It's 5.28.

Just about the same time as every other night. Out of the corner of my eye you see some movement in the yard. The swing is rocking violently and I could swear that I see someone running. I don't sleep the rest of the night. At 9 a.m. I go out to get the paper and something catches my eye. There are muddy footprints going across my driveway. I follow them for as long as I can and they end up at the swing on the tree. Every second I'm confused, my mind is running on fumes, I haven't had a good night's sleep

in almost two weeks, my morning coffee is still brewing. I shrug and I walk back inside. Did I leave the door open? Weird, I never do that. I'm about halfway up the driveway and I stop cold and drop the paper. It's a god damn camera. That's it. Not true, no one on 4chan is married.

Very interesting. So what happened to this young fella? I guess the guy was taking a picture of him while he was asleep. Oh, I see the alarm. Have you seen Sleep Porn? No, I never heard of such a thing. It sounds like terrible porn. You've never heard Sleep Porn?

Yeah, I've seen this. There was a whole subreddit that a guy did for like a year that was just a picture of his roommate sleeping every single night. And then you masturbate to that? Well, yeah, but I've seen Sleep Porn where it's just the girl just pretends to be asleep and then the guy puts it in her. Oh, yeah, but that's a whole nother type of situation. Sure.

I mean, people take pictures of each other. I mean, I was doing it to Ed, you know, like you do it all the time. You get in there and you take pictures of it. You never know someone as well as when they're sleeping. Okay, I don't see, yes, that is true. I feel like you were just constantly taking pictures of Ed while he was sleeping just because you want the last known picture of Ed and you never know when he's going to die in his sleep.

Of course that's Ed Larsen. It's for insurance purposes because his body oil will just shoot to the bottom of any piece of furniture that he's sitting on. Oh, right. I just want to make sure I can get money back from the company. Yeah. Is it super creepy if you find out somebody is taking pictures of you while you sleep? I am not completely against it.

Yep, definitely, yep. Of course. Yeah. Do you think it leads to immediate murder or what if they just like this sleep board? My girlfriend told me once, she's like, I watch you while you're asleep sometimes and I was like, stop it. Well, that's creepy. Don't do that.

Don't watch me while I sleep. I think that's something that just girls do. Watch you while you sleep? Yeah. Yeah. I never heard of such a thing. Yeah. I mean, they don't watch me while I sleep.

Because you're disgusting. Uh-huh. Yeah, because you're endlessly, you have them in a death grip. Don't you sleep with women in a death grip? We cuddle. I mean, that's a death grip. Yeah. What you call cuddling.

Well, you know, whatever. I teach their own. Some say cuddling, some say aggressively holding someone against their will, but you know, whatever. It's fine. They see you enjoy it. Yeah, don't look at me while I'm sleeping. You know?

Okay. So that's a great thing. And Marcus, you feel the same way. No looky while you sleep. I don't care. I don't care. Yeah. Yeah, it's fun.

I mean, I don't really see how it's exciting to look at somebody while they're sleeping. I would find that when someone's asleep, it's the easiest way to measure them for a coffin. You know? So it's like that. Right. That is true. Yeah.

Yeah. I mean, the measurements on your coffin, that thing is going to look like a hamburger. I want it to be roomy. It will be. I mean, it should be roomy, but I have a feeling we'll be, we'll be butting it up pretty good in there. Like a detective popcorn to squeeze you in that sweet little case. Oh, yeah.

They ain't got to make no reason to bear in me. You got to be too busy eating all my delicious kernels. I mean, what happens if people eat too much of your kernels though? Don't you die detective popcorn? Well, sometimes I hurt people's bellies, but I don't mean to. All I want to do is make people smile. So you're saying that you can be eaten and your sentience survives in the parts that are eaten off of you?

Oh, I go to hot dog heaven. Well, I meet all my old friends like milkshake, Mike, and old hamburger Henry. Oh, wow. I liked hamburger Henry. He was very nice. So you go to a concession stand at a movie theater. Oh, you know I do. Let's all go to the movies.

Yeah. Let's do it. Let's all go to the movies. I do think detective popcorn would get asked out on quite a few movie dates. Oh, absolutely. Yeah. By like dudes like us. Exactly.

But they're just using it for popcorn. I don't like. I don't like what they're doing. Yeah, good. You mean my friend? You mean my friend detective Bob Goodman? Yeah, because sometimes like I'll eat popcorn just with my tongue. You ever do that?

Yeah. You ever just stick your mouth in the popcorn? Of course. It's the most satisfying way to eat popcorn. It's a good way to do it. The thing that deters me from the popcorn is the greasy fingers. I hate greasy fingers. So I go with right to the mouth.

Yeah. Very regular. I mean, you know, the person I'm eating the popcorn with hates it because I got tongue all over it. Jared Logan, I went to the movies last night and I felt so, I've never felt so sorry for a bag of popcorn because you're sharing it, you know, and how it's just rough. Yeah. Jared Logan's a Canadian here in New York City.

Used to run the Jared Logan show. Yeah. Here on Cave Comedy Radio. He used to have a show with us. He's been a guest on many a show here. Yes. Oh, definitely. All right.

Do you want to move on to the next? Yeah. I'll do this one. It's called, it's a short one. It's called This Man and it's, you know, whatever. So in January of 2006 in New York, the patient of a well-known psychiatrist draws the face of a man that has been repeatedly appearing in her dreams. In more than one occasion, that man has given her advice on her private life.

The woman swears she has never met the man in her life. The portrait lies forgotten on the psychiatrist's desk for a few days until one day another patient recognizes that face and says that's the man that, and says that's the man who has often visited him in his dreams. He also claimed he has never seen the man in his waking life. The psychiatrist decides to send the portrait to some of his colleagues that have patients with recurrent dreams. Within a few months, four patients recognize the man as a frequent presence in their own

dreams. All the patients refer to him as This Man. From January 2006 until today, at least 2,000 people have claimed that they have seen This Man in their dreams in many cities all over the world, including Los Angeles, Berlin, Sao Paulo, Tehran, Beijing, Rome, Barcelona, Stockholm, Paris, New Delhi, and Moscow. At the moment, there is no ascertained relation or common trait among the people that have dreamed of seeing this man, moreover, no living man has ever been recognized as resembling the man of the portrait by the people who have seen this man in their dreams.

And Marcus, this is what the man looks like, and we can put it up on the website. Oh, Jesus Christ, he's like a little Marionette doll. Oh, really? Let me see. It's called This Man? It's called This Man. The guy has a very thin, tiny upper lip, very bushy eyebrows, a nice fat bottom lip, and a receding hairline, and he does look very creepy.

Yeah, go to capecomdereo.com slash last podcast on the left to see a picture of this dude. Yeah. Where is this man? It's just a tag based on a true story. It's creepypasta.com backslash tag, backslash based on a true story, based, and then I've got, what's that little line called? Oh, yeah, I've seen this. I've seen this.

Yeah. I love that guy. He's got big old ears. Every dream, this man. Oh, man, look at it. It looks like Mike Racine. It does a little bit. He looks Polish.

Well, he's smiling. So that's nice. Yeah. I would say if I have reoccurring dreams with that dude's face giving me advice, I mean, I'd be relatively terrified. Oh, absolutely. He gives you relationship advice? Is that what you said?

Well, he just gave advice on people's personal life. So I would assume relationship, career, any sort of, any sort of thing that happens in your personal life. Yeah, it's just always like, kill the girl. Kill the girl. Yeah. Always kill the girl. And she's like, I don't even know a girl.

And he's like, we'll find one and kill her. Yeah. Kill the girl. You know? I give you a piece of advice. Kill the girl. Yeah. Kill the girl.

Okay. Very good. Of course. Of course. But this is a phenomenon that we've heard about before with people that have very similar reoccurring dreams. I guess it's just sort of a human nature thing. And maybe when they see the picture, then they just put that picture into their brains

and they're like, that's the face from the dream because in dreams, I can never get an actual image. They're just the Worshack test for me. Really? They're all just kind of all over the place and constantly changing and morphing around. Yeah. Well, maybe that's because you have no inner life. You know what I mean?

No inner what? Inner thoughts. That is possible. That is possible. I had a horrible dream last night where my dad slept with my girlfriend and that beat him half to death with a chair. Jesus Christ. Cool.

And it was the chair that was in the dining room, which I grew up in. He wouldn't go down. Well, he's your father. He bled and he had plenty of bruises, but he just kept going into the whole experience in detail. That is a horrible story. Laughin'. Laughin' the whole time.

Wow. Yeah. Last nightmare I've had in a very long time. It sounds like it's one of those nightmares you wake up and you call your father and you're pissed off and he's like, what? Oh, I'm so sorry, I invaded your dreams and fucked your girlfriend. No, I had a dream. I did that with my mom.

I had a dream that I had a massive fight with my mom and I called her up in the morning and I was just like, oh yeah, that didn't happen. I'm sorry. Yeah. That happens. Yeah. And also he was the head of a horrible fascistic anti-government movement. Your father.

Cool. Wow. In this dream. I had a girlfriend to join him and we were fighting in indefinite factions and he had brought me to the house to kill me, to try to kill me. Sure. But I woke up after he just sat down in a chair and I just kept beating him and he just kept...

This is a great story idea. And he just kept... It's a great screenplay idea. And he just kept laughing. Well, yeah, I mean, once you take somebody's wife, the next step is to kill that person that you took the wife from. Mm-hmm. I mean, you have to.

You have to start a new life with her. Well, and it was all like creepy Texas. Yeah. I just have terrible dreams of my father just yelling at me and it's really awful and then I can't... I can never actually punch him. Nah. I just...

I just fucking smoke my dreams away. Yeah. If you don't want to do... Like, I just... You put weed into your brain until you're... You just do... You know how you could just like hold the button down in your laptop until your laptop just shuts off and I shut it down?

Sure. That's what I do myself. You got the on-off button, Henry? Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, exactly. I just press on my forehead until I have a seizure and I black out. That's good. All right. I remember that. No dreams.

No dreams. Dreams are very rarely good because even if you have a sexy dream, you always wake up alone, which is a sad morning. Although I did have a kick-ass dream the other night where I was kidnapped by pirates and they had also kidnapped Spider-Man and they were going to feed us to three hulks. But the three hulks were really... The three hulks were really sleepy so they weren't moving too fast and so I'm thinking Spider-Man, he's giving up.

He's on the floor. So my first thought, I should possess Spider-Man, break the chains and then beat the share of the hulks and then throw all the pirates in front of moving trains. That's a good thought. And I did it and it was awesome. Nice. My question... That's a valid info from your dreams.

Some people will dream things and get relationship advice and some people, they'll get clues to unsolved crimes in their dreams. I don't think that's going to happen for you. My question to you is, is your bed a race car? Is it a race car bed? Because that's a seven-year-old's dream. You are 30 years old now, Marcus. You can't have dreams of three retired hulks.

The first part of the dream was me being sentenced unlawfully to prison and they gave me a choice of... they gave me a choice of cellmate and they're like, do you either want Juan or Rodrigo? And I said... Spider-Man! I said which one speaks English and they said neither one of them, you're going to have to learn Spanish. Okay, very interesting. Very realistic.

The fuck? Why can't they learn English? I think we've just discovered Peter Marcus' personality. Marcus is where ex-con and seven-year-old meet. That is true. That seven-year-old is very desperately trying to keep that ex-con in check. Yeah, that is a very, very good explanation of my personality. Alright, well let's get to your story here, Marcus.

Alright, well the story I'm reading, this isn't creepypasta. This is a story from our old favorite childhood horror book, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. Man, these stories used to scare the living fuck out of me. Yes, they were amazing. God, they're so good. So again, Marcus, take us back in a time machine when things were simpler and easier. Ah, yes, they were wonderful.

Alright, well this is a story called Me Tidoty Walker. There was a small village in the middle of a dark forest. In the village, there was a haunted house that everyone was terrified to enter. Nobody would dare to stay there overnight. Legend had it that, every night at midnight, a bloody severed head fell down the chimney. One day, a rich man was passing through the village. After hearing about the haunted house, he offered a thousand dollars to whoever was brave enough to spend an entire night inside.

None of the villagers would take him up on his bed until a young boy stepped forward and raised his hand. The boy announced that he would spend the night in the haunted house as long as he could bring his dog with him. The man agreed and it was settled. The next evening, the boy set off for the haunted house with his trusty dog following close behind. As he entered the dreary abode, he whistled a happy tune to calm his nerves.

After doing a little exploring, he decided to make himself comfortable in the living room. He heard a fire in the fireplace, then lay down on the couch with his dog and waited for morning to arrive. For a while, nothing happened. Then, a little after midnight, he thought he heard a strange noise over the crackling of the fire and the creaking of the house. It sounded like it was coming from somewhere out in the woods.

Someone or something was singing a haunting tune. Me tied a teawalker, saying the eerie voice, the boy stared out the window and his hair stood on end. Maybe it's just somebody taking a shortcut through the woods, he told himself. Then his dog suddenly perked up and sang, Lynchy, can she call him Olly, dingo, dingo? This is an old story. It's an old story. The boy could hardly believe his ears.

His dog had never uttered a word before. Now it was answering the haunting voice in the woods. He pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. A few minutes later, the boy heard the voice singing again, only this time it was closer and louder. Me tied a teawalker, saying the mysterious voice. The dog answered again, Lynchy, can she call him Olly, dingo, dingo? This really had the boy scared.

He was afraid that whoever was lurking in the woods would hear the dog singing and come to get them. A few minutes later, the boy heard the voice singing again. Now it was in the backyard, Me tied a teawalker. It cried. The dog sang back louder, Lynchy, can she call him Olly, dingo, dingo? A few minutes later, the boy heard the voice singing again. Now it was coming down the chimney, Me tied a teawalker.

It yelled again, the dog sang back, Lynchy, can she call him Olly, dingo, dingo? Suddenly, a bloody severed head fell down the chimney. It missed the fire and landed right in front of the dog. The dog took one look at it and fell over dead from fright. Then the head turned and stared at the boy. It slowly opened its mouth and screamed. The next morning, the rich man went in to check on the boy. He found him lying on the floor of the haunted house.

His hair had turned white and he couldn't stop screaming. I mean, it's really just side effects of bad pop music. That's what's happening here. That's great. Clive Davis signed that guy to a record, I'm sure. Can I read another one? Can I just read this one thing? I want to see how this goes.

Sure. Let me read the story. All right. Sorry, this is also... It's the Ernest Borgnein warmup. He had a lot of class. I mean, it's not downgrade, degrade. Ernest Borgnein is disgusting.

He's a very nice man. What are you... Are you just drinking straight lard? I'm waiting for a moment. It's just when you're silent, but you make the weirdest noises. Just be silent for a second. Let's get into a position. Okay.

Just be silent. I just want to make sure that I just want to hear him. Okay, good. You see, I can do it, but I can totally do it. Okay, good. As you all know, this city used to be a small town many years ago. A farming town, to be exact. In this town, there once lived a man named John.

In fact, he lived just up the street in a small house by himself. One rainy day, John was looking out the window of his house, watching the rain fall, and he noticed a group of kids walking to school along the dirt road adjacent to his house. A few feet behind the group, he noticed a little girl walking by herself without an umbrella. John took it upon himself to grab an umbrella and take it out to the little girl. Excuse me, John said, a little girl, when he called up to her, he'd go, sweetheart, take this umbrella.

You really shouldn't be walking this weather without it. John handed her the umbrella and the little girl took it. Tell me, what's your name, who's your dad, where's your dad? That way I know I can get my umbrella back from in case one day I need it, asked John. My name is Jessica, and my daddy's name is Steve, replied the little girl. Steve the butcher? Asked John, yes. Little girl replied.

Okay, well thank you, now you just stay dry and have a great day at school, said John. When John went back to his house, he started wondering why Steve had never told him he had a daughter. He figured that in the five years he had known him, he would have mentioned it at some point. He decided that he would go around lunchtime to visit Steve and let him know his daughter would be barter, umbrella, barter's umbrella. When he walked in, Steve was at the counter and gritted him with a friendly hello. Hey, Steve, how you doing?

Good, now by yourself. Doing just fine, thanks. Hey, just wanted to know, I saw Jessica walk in school in the rain this morning without an umbrella, so I let her borrow mine. How come you never told me you had a little girl? You saw Jessica? That's impossible. Why is that impossible?

She's been dead for ten years. On the next day, John was determined to find out who the little girl was and why she had lied to him. So he waited patiently for the kids to walk by his house on their way to school. Eventually, the same group that had walked by the day before, walked by again, and not too far behind was little girl. John exited his house and he walked in towards the little girl and he called, excuse me, little girl, but she never turned around and he picked up the pace and he tried again.

Excuse me, excuse me, I talked to you yesterday. Little girl kept walking without missing a beat. And John's like, hello, hello, I just need to ask you a question, Jessica, Jessica, little girl, stop. John cut up to her, put his hands on his shoulder and asked, who are you? Little girl turned around and said, I like that one. That's a scary one, Henry. You got me, you got me scared over here.

I like it. Yeah, you can just see that fucking little girl's face, man, you know, but if I have a daughter, I'm going to tell her to respond that way if any man puts her hand, put his hand on her shoulders, turn around and scream immediately. Yeah. Oh, that's loudest. You can. Every time, yeah.

And if she could do that thing where she like distorts her mouth, that'd be even better. Yeah, absolutely. Well, that is, that's the, that's the actual scary one of the night, which is kind of good. Yeah. Henry, you also, we have a game that we're going to play. All right. So this is one of your standards.

Do you remember that one night where we got fucking ridiculously hammered and played Bloody Mary, like, like for an hour? Man, I don't know. So this is a game to play when you're trashed out of your mind. Okay. You should try it. I may try it here by myself, but I think I'll scare everyone that lives in this building. Yeah.

All right. How's your roommate situation going by the way? It's great. It's fine. Okay. It's fine. Oh, yes. All right.

The midnight game. Now, the midnight game is an old pagan ritual used mainly as punishment for those who have broken the laws of the pagan religion in question, which is ridiculous because there are no laws in pagan, pagan fucking rituals. There's a lot of rules though. Yeah. But they were like, but there was no real rules. It was like, don't take my pumpkins.

These are my sacred pumpkins. Yeah. But if you touch the sacred pumpkins, you get chastised and shut from the ground. You have to play the midnight game. All right. You have to play the midnight game. All right. So it says here it is highly recommended that you do not play the midnight game.

Of course. Don't fucking do it, but for those few still thrill seekers searching for a rush, do it. You're on risk. All right. Instructions. It must be exactly 12 a.m. when you begin performing the ritual. Otherwise, it will not work. Materials required include a candle, a wooden door, at least one drop of your own blood,

a piece of paper, matches or a lighter and salt. If you're playing with multiple people, they will all need their own aforementioned materials and will have to perform the steps separately. Step one, write your full name, first, middle and last on a piece of paper and put at least one drop of your blood onto the paper. Allow it to soak into the paper. Step two, turn off all the lights in the house. Go to your front door, which must be wooden, and place the paper with your name on in front

of it. Now, take the candle and light it. Place the candle on top of the paper with your name. Step three, knock on your own door 22 times. The hour must be 12 a.m. upon the final knock. Then open the door. There's a lot to do in a minute. This is a lot.

It's very double-dare. Yeah. It's very careful. It's the midnight game. I know. Yeah. Okay. So you got a minute to do all this.

Midnight. All right. You must have allowed, you blow out the candle and close the door. Now, you have just allowed the midnight man into your house. Step four, immediately relight your candle, which is just like, you know, so you're not totally creeped out. Can it be 1201 at this point? No, it's a midnight man.

All in a minute. Okay. This is where the game begins. Now, you must look around your now completely dark house with a lit candle in hand. Your goal is to avoid the midnight man at all costs until exactly 333 a.m. Jesus. Should your candle ever go out, then that means the midnight man is nearby. You must relight the candle within the next 10 seconds.

If you are unsuccessful in relighting the candle, you must then immediately surround yourself with a circle of salt. If you are unsuccessful in both of these, the midnight man will then induce a hallucination of your greatest fear, which will last until 333 a.m., which is me just running out of burritos. Yeah, exactly. You know what? Yeah.

Self defacing humor. If I'm to, you know, if I'm to read this correctly, would it be necessary to have some sort of utility belt on at all times with your salt, your lighter, your extra candles, a vial of your blood? Your ever oligocy. Yeah. Yeah. All right.

Okay. Good. And then, so what happens if you win the midnight game? You just don't get haunted by the. You just don't get killed by the midnight man. You don't get killed by the midnight man. No, no, this is stupid. Yeah.

Yeah. But what, but you can do is get fucking really, really stoned. Right. And it's a great way to maybe segue into hooking up with somebody. That's right. Exactly. Oh, I'm the midnight man. Yeah.

Exactly. No, that sounds like a super fun game. I just don't know where you're going to find somebody with a wooden door these days. I have a wooden door. You have a wooden door? Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

Well, we can do it at your place then, Marcus. You live in a slum like the rest of us. Yes. I, yes, I live in a slum. You live in a nice place. Fuck you. So does Ben. No, I'm just saying, but he doesn't have any wood in his house because they're afraid

the whole building will be set on fire. Right. That's true. That is true. My apartment, I'm happy to have a strong steel door. You never know who's coming through those doors, my friend. It's mostly just me and Henry. Or the midnight man.

Not with a steel door, though. Very cool. So we'll do this at your apartment. Maybe when you get back, Henry, maybe we can do a fun little video segment. Yeah. Let's do a party. Yeah. Let's do a party.

We will. And that sounds absolutely wonderful. All right. Well, I guess we're going to wrap up this episode here. We've pretty much covered everything we need to cover. I hope you guys got sufficiently creeped out by that fantastic last story by Mr. Hong Kong Henry Zabrowski. Absolutely.

And just, you know, again, you know, don't travel by yourself. And politely tolerated the other ones. Yeah. Yeah. Absolutely. They always like it. I just love doing these creepypasta episodes because it's fun. It's just fun to see what the internet will provide.

And then you get to go, you know, and then you get to sift through all the various racist homophobic things on 4chan and then find fun little kernels. Well, and I also enjoy like people are actually writing and these are relatively well written horror shorts. And so I think it creates a nice environment for creative writing skills. I think so too. And if it wasn't anonymous, I would totally give these people credit. Yeah.

Exactly. Yeah. Absolutely. Well, I'll have to give credit to Alvin Schwartz for mine. Alvin Schwartz? Yeah. Yes. Well, it's the dark, more scary stories to tell in the dark, and tales to chill your

bones. Wow. Comedy writer, huh? Exciting. All right. Well, we will talk to you very soon. And gustalations. And gustalations.

Hylgine. Hylme. And hail yourself, everybody. We'll talk to you soon.