Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 3x27: Miller's Fun Park - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: May 11, 2020

Stories in this episode: Paint the town red” doesn’t mean blood, as the scorned painter who was out for mine seems to have misunderstood. - PumpkinSpiceWhatever Never Parking near the Park again - JonJacobJinglySmith Why I’ll Never Go-Kart Again - aurorapierce Try Shudder free for 30 days! Just to shudder.com and use promo code meet. Click Here to preorder your copy of Unboxed: A Play by Briana Morgan! Follow Let's Not Meet: - Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/  - Twitter - https://twitter.com/letsnotmeetcast  - Website - http://letsnotmeetpodcast.com  - Patreon - http://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast  - Merch - https://www.teepublic.com/user/letsnotmeet  - Twitch - https://www.twitch.tv/andrewtatelive

Amplify your career through training and development solutions specifically designed for federal government professionals. From courses to help you attain or retain certification to individualized coaching services, to programs at home, your leadership skills, and business acumen. Management concepts optimizes your professional development. Online in-person, individually, or groups. It's training that's measurably better. Learn more at managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com My name is Andrew Tate and this is season three episode 27 of Let's Not Meet a True horror podcast. One summer long ago, I worked for a house-painting company, made of many small franchises

praying on college students for underpaid and overworked employees. Said indentured servants slash workforce generally returned to school in late August, and the franchise would close until the next summer. I was a lackey who hired everyone, formed crews, met with customers, transported materials, etc. aka my boss's job, but he preferred, you know, doing nothing. Late in the summer, my boss decided to continue into the fall months, so he could make more money while depriving me even further of the will to live. So I had to hire people who were in the painting business, but for whatever reason, couldn't find a job with a reputable company, and so had no option to work with us.

Yay. Enter Jim. Jim was a veteran about 45 years old, which was far above my usual 18-22 hiring demographic, but had impressed me over the phone. As I was essentially painting entire houses myself, or with skeleton crew until I could scrounge up more workers, I didn't interview him in person, just told him to show up ready to go and meet me in the crew at a job site at 9am on Monday. Life happens as it does and I had a family emergency that prohibited me from being there

on Monday. Some of my summer workers who didn't go off to school would be there, and I had a family emergency that prohibited me from being there on Monday. Some of my summer workers who didn't go off to school would be there, so I texted them, explaining to help Jim to get used to the way that we worked, and to make sure that they keep it basic. If he was having trouble, send him home, and he'd start over with me the next day. 9.45 am, my phone is blowing up with texts and calls. I'm at a wake, but I slip outside to hiss into my phone. I'm staring at a dead family member, and you know this.

Now what? Jim. Jim isn't okay. What do you mean? He's fucking insane. He's ruining this person's roof, and he won't listen to us. He keeps screaming at us to shut the fuck up. Well, I thought Jim had a point with the last part since my crew spent more time talking

than painting, but I digress. And their infinite wisdom, my crew, stuck this new dude up on the roof to paint a teeny space which would take about five minutes with a brush. Homeboy pulls out a nine inch roller and goes to town, swooping the thing up and down like a skateboarder on half pipe. So the entire black roof area below him was covered in beige paint. I tell them to get him down and send him home. I'll deal with it after the wake. I tell my boss what's going on. He brushes it off saying that Jim called him to apologize and tell him to bring his cousin

Oscar, a guy who's apparently worked as a painter and a union to the next job. The boss doesn't consult me. Says it's fine, and I have to deal. Great. New job site, new day, I still hate my life. Oscar isn't in a union, but he did work as a painter for over a decade until he was put in jail for armed robbery. A jealous stint that he was fresh out of as of a week ago. To Oscar's credit, he was very polite, respectful, and different. Yes, bow before me. I had to speak with him alone before I let him set foot on my job site, and he was completely

upfront about his gel time and what led to it, answering my questions that I had asked him. I was convinced, and he did an excellent job. My boss stopped by for the first time and forever and was also impressed with Oscar. So impressed that he decided Oscar and Jim would take on a job by themselves, a job that was mostly trim work for a family of mom and pop as well as three daughters, 1511 and seven. He also decided that he would take care of all the customer interaction with the exception of me dropping off the extra tall ladder halfway through to reach one ridiculously small

but very high piece. Sure, fine. Halfway through the job, two days in, I show up like a good peon, massive ladder and toe. Jim is listening to music, and I see Oscar look at him, then wave to me to keep driving and park around the corner. I love me some drama. park around the corner. I love me some drama. I don't care about anything anymore. So I do. Oscar sprints to my car and tells me that Jim has been making the owners and their daughters very uncomfortable and my boss had been ignoring their calls. Oscar had told them privately to wait until the day that I came, and he would make sure that I talked to them. I thanked Oscar, told him that I would deal with it right then,

and requested he hang around and proceed as if everything is fine, in case I needed his assistance in any capacity. I pulled into the driveway, nodded at Jim, and knocked on the door. I was pulled in almost immediately by a frantic mother. The family was Russian, so I was treated to a bunch of information that I could mostly understand, but the rest was pretty rough. Apparently Jim had been very opportunistic about his latter positions as he worked on the second floor of the house, and they were conveniently always able to see directly into the girl's bedrooms, which he took pictures of on his phone.

He also made multiple comments to the girls as they came home from school that were a sizable step over the line of pedophilia, but also freaking football fields passed the line of how he speak to a customer or their kids' period. Massively inappropriate sexual innuendos, the works. I manage to keep myself from melting into the floor and promise them that this will be dealt with immediately. With that, I walk out to confront Jim.

I ask if I can use his phone because mine was dead, and after he hands it over, I find almost 100 pictures of the various bedrooms from every angle possible, zoomed in, etc. He sees me open the pictures from his position on the ladder and starts flying down and screaming at me. He launches at me and Oscar puts himself in between us, yelling at Jim to calm down. Jim panics and fleas for his car, leaving me with his phone. The police were called and I handed the phone over. I was interviewed. Poor Oscar almost had a panic attack, but they said that they would work with the family and take it from there.

Great. I finished the job with Oscar. We get tipped, and the family thanked us for our role in helping them, as they didn't really know how to handle Jim. Time passes, and I'm home watching TV in the living room. It's about 9 p.m. Light floods the room, as a car pulls up, my neighbor's driveway with its brights on. I don't care. I continue watching TV. A few minutes pass, and I hear yelling from the neighbor's house. I look out the window, and it's Jim's car in their driveway, because my boss had given him

my home address, as where to pick up the checks at the end of each week. He got confrontational yelling at the neighbors, where was I? When really all he had to do was turn around to see my idiotic, slack jawed face, staring at the window about six feet away. Then he pulls out a handgun and starts motioning at the wife. Before I can even register, this is actually happening. I grab my own gun, which I would have heroically used to shoot myself in the foot or something. My living room is filled with red and blue lights as multiple police cars pull up and consequently arrest Jim. Jim had four guns in the passenger seat of his car, one of which was an AR-15 and

another a shotgun. He apparently had only taken one out to wave over his head, leaving the other three in the car. He wasn't 100% sure which house was mine. The neighbors are elderly, nosy, snarky, and call the cops on anything and everything of little to no consequence. They call this as soon as the beater car pulled into their driveway, and their knee jerk 911 reaction saved my life. Let's not meet again, Jim. Also, you suck at painting. Here in South Africa, we're in lockdown. I'm meant to travel for work to Santa Barbara, but since we're under lockdown, I can't go anywhere. So I'm an entrepreneur with a tech startup here. And since I travel

most of the time, I make use of the co-working space for a hot desk and meetup room. It's quite flexible. There's always coffee and pretty girls coming in and out. However, since COVID-19 broke, I saw this place as a public or corporate office with many people coming in and out, therefore I was now stuck with no office. A buddy of mine told me that he had an entire unused area at his house behind some offices. I would be alone. I'd have my own kitchen lounge, TV, bathroom, etc. The catch? I would have to park on the road. So let me explain the way the road is. It's a wide steepish road with a massive park and zoo on the left with three entrances and parking and houses and businesses on the right. I use the road quite often to go to Florida Road, a popular bar,

and food district. There's only street lights on the houses and businesses side, as there was a red line or no parking line along the side of the road on the right and left. I had to park outside the park. So I parked in the first parking nearest the building that I was working at. This story takes place one night before the lockdown. I had a call with a company in Denver, Colorado, which I had to start at 6 p.m. It went well though, and I decided to back up and leave. I wore formal shoes and carried my laptop on my back. Being paranoid, before I left, I looked at the CCTV before opening the gate. I didn't

see anyone outside. I then proceeded to buzz myself out, lock up, and walk out. I don't know how, but in the time that it took for me to walk from the building to the gate. A man appeared. He seemed drunk or high, and just hanging around against the fence on the side of the road where my car was, wearing a hooded sweatshirt with the hoodie down. He had torn brownish jeans and sneakers. I started walking and looked down, keeping track of him from the corner of my eye. Mine was the car on the left, so I would assume that he knew it was mine. As I got closer to my car, I noticed him starting to walk out towards me. I ignored.

He was still diagonally trying to cut me off. He then said, as he was maybe 5 meters away, let me help you with your bags, sir. Now I had a comfortable laptop backpack on. I was walking with my hands free and yet he asked to help me with my bag. In South Africa, car guards usually help you with your grocery bags and expect a tip. But not this guy. This guy knew what he was doing, where I was going and what I was carrying. To make matters worse, he had his left hand in his hoodie pocket and was now walking faster. It all went down in a split second. He suddenly lunged at me, but being a football player, I feigned left and went right. In that split second, I thought, if I ran to my car, which was still another 10 to 15

meters away, I would surely not have made it. I am fast, but fumbling with my keys opening the door, getting in, it didn't seem confident. So I made the decision of jumping the fence into the now dark park. I made it with one leap. I'll be it slower since my laptop backpack kept bouncing on my back. As soon as I hit the ground, I took my laptop bag off, held it in my hand and ran. I looked for a dark spot to hide, so I ended up hiding behind a massive tree in the park. There are a few of them, but it was the only one that

didn't have a light hitting on it. I heard him running and slurring his words, saying something like, Pussy, just give me the bag. So the car was on the other side of the tennis court. If I could get to the tennis court, sneak around that and run to my car, I would make it. But there was a lit open space between this tree and the tennis court. And he was running straight through that space. I watched the angle of him running and slowly rounded the tree to keep myself out of his line of sight. I honestly think that him being high helped me out immensely here, as he ran straight

past and toward the other side of the park. When he was a distance away, which couldn't have been more than 20 meters, I made a break for it. Not being quiet now, I pushed away every branch and leaf, which he heard and turned around, then saw. I burst around the tennis court, stupid, because I should have just went back the way that I came. I turned around, and I saw him yelling and running back at me, stumbling every now and then,

but picking up the pace and actually gaining on me. He had a knife and it was out now. I puffed my way up the hill, opened the car, and jumped in. I locked the door with my laptop bag on my lap and started the car. When I looked back in the darkness, he's gone. He must have slunk back into the park when I was out of range, but where? I didn't wait to find out. I skidded and drove the hell out of there. I won't say that I won't work there again. I would, but maybe I'll uber next time. So creepy

car guard, let's not meet again. Do the recent swings in the financial markets and the potential for dramatic losses have you concerned about your nest egg? Here at the OP Capital, we focus our funds on real estate, specifically multifamily residences in markets where working people have trouble finding an affordable home. It's a disciplined investment strategy

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professionals, from courses to help you attain or retain certification to individualized coaching services, to programs that hone your leadership skills and business acumen. Management concepts optimizes your professional development. Online in-person, individually, or groups. It's training that's measurably better. Learn more at managementconcepts.com.

That's managementconcepts.com. I just want to start off by saying that to make the story easier to understand, I'm going to use a lot of dialogue. Obviously, this wasn't recorded, so these aren't exactly the words of anyone involved in this experience. I'm just trying to tell it as best as possible,

and I think it'll benefit you and I if I use a lot of quotes. Just keep in mind, most of it is not direct. This happened in 2015 when I was 16 and still living in my hometown. I've forgotten a little beach town in the middle of nowhere that's so remote it's probably not even known by a surrounding areas. Basically, there's three things you can do as a teenager. Go to the movies, swim, or go to this pathetic little place called Miller's Fun Park. It's relatively similar to a lot of fun park-type things, only a whole lot worse.

There's a creepy arcade with a broken ski ball machine, batting cages that probably haven't been used since the early 80s, a pathetic minigaw of course, and the most dangerous go-karts you've probably ever seen in your life. Seriously, Miller's Fun Park is on the edge of a field. On the opposite side of the field, about three miles down is the beach. Now, across the single street are woods. If our town is in the middle of nowhere, Miller's is practically on the moon. Anyway, getting into the story, my cousin Emma and I decided one summer that we wanted to go go-carting. It was around 10pm at night, so I knew it'd be

almost deserted. But that was the way that we liked it. I picked her up from her house and we made the long drive down. Once we arrived and parked in the nearly empty parking lot, we hopped out of the car and paid for some go-carting tickets. The same people had worked there forever. I swear to God. There was no one there except a few boys in the arcade and a guy who looked to be in his 60s sitting on a bench near the batting cages.

Emma and I paid him no mind and went to the go-cart track. Like I said, these carts were incredibly dangerous, so I was focused on nothing but making sure that I wasn't going to skid and flip as we raced way too fast around the windy track. This is why I didn't notice the guy walking over to the fence and why I didn't notice him watching us until we pulled into the lanes after our last lap. He was standing on the other side of the fence, right where I parked. He stared at me with the most unsettling expression, a creepy smile, playing on his cracked

lips as his dark eyes gleamed. I managed an uneasy smile back, handed another ticket to the guy running the go-karts who was obviously higher than a kite, and Emma and I went off again. This time I couldn't focus. The dude gave me the worst type of feeling. My eyes were constantly finding their way to the metal fence where he stood, unmoving, and watching us every time we were in his view. And the thing that was bothering me the most was, we had only bought three tickets. We were on our second to last run, and he was standing directly next to the gate.

I was just praying that he would move before we were done. But of course, no such luck. Our last go came and went, and I had no choice but to pull in next to him, unbuckle my seatbelt, and get out of the go-cart. I glanced over at Emma a few feet away as I opened the gate to see if she was scared. Maybe she was as scared as I was. But she didn't seem to notice as she bounced over and bragged about how she had beat me the last two times. That was barely listening. I opened the gate, and the guy stepped in front of me just

as I was leaving. Hey there, he said. His voice was dry and smelled of cigarettes. What are you two cute girls doing here all alone?" My eyes darted over to Emma, who was looking at the dude with both confusion and annoyance. Uh, what? She said, pushing past the gate, so she stood beside me. It's late. His tone was as hungry as his eyes, and he reminded me of a snake. Your parents know that you're out. Yes, I answered quickly.

They're waiting for us actually. We need to get going. This was a lie and probably sounded like it from my tone, but I tried to push past him anyway. It didn't work. He grabbed my shoulder to keep me in front of him. Nonsense. I saw you girls pull up alone. My heart dropped to my stomach. He had? Are you heading out? Why don't I walk you to your car?

He starts inching towards me, and I looked to Emma for help, with one swift movement. She pulled me halfway beside her, and started sizing up the guy. This was pretty dumb as we were both small, and though she's a few inches taller than me, neither of us are anywhere near his size. This guy clears six foot too easily, but she doesn't seem to care. Actually, we were both headed to the arcade, she says harshly. Her boyfriend is going to meet us there. I did have a boyfriend at the time, but he wasn't coming. He wasn't even in town. I knew she knew this. The guys face immediately changed. His smile disappeared, and he was now glaring down at me with a look

of annoyance in his eyes. I felt myself start to cower. Boyfriend, he says roughly. Emma didn't give me time to say anything. She grabbed my arm and tugged me behind her into the arcade. The boys from before had already left, and the usual girl who worked in there was nowhere to be found. Still, it felt safer than outside. We ran to the back and hid behind the claw machine. What in the hell do we do? I left my phone in the car. I whispered to her. There was no way I was going out there alone, and the pothead go-cart guy had already disappeared into the small ticket-shack. I don't have mine either.

I left it charging," she said. We're just going to have to make a run for it. Are you crazy? He's probably waiting for us in the parking lot. What about the guy who runs the go-carts? We could get him to walk us out, she said, as I shook my head. He's high as Mount Everest right now. I don't want a risk running all the way down to the ticket stand for nothing.

Then we have no choice, she said. She stood up, pulling me with her. Let's go. I swallowed hard, wanting to cry. I'd never been that scared before. There was something so wrong about that guy. We made our way to the arcade, looking around to see if he was nearby. The park was now absolutely deserted.

Emma practically had to drag me to the exit. I was looking every direction every second, waiting for the guy to come out of the woods or something and just pounce us at any second. But he didn't. Everything was still. Get your keys out, Emma instructed, and I pulled them from my pocket. We were about 20 feet from my car when I stopped dead in my tracks. What? She whispered. I stared at the car. Keys in hand. I had never locked it. I never locked the car, Emma. What? I didn't lock it. What if I trailed off? But she knew what I was saying. She started inching towards the car, and I grabbed her arm to stop her, but she pulled away. I'm just going to peak.

If I save run, you run. Her voice was quiet. I nodded chakily. She eventually made it close enough to see inside, but by the way that she was squinting, I knew that it was too dark to make anything out. My heart was beating out of my chest. What if he was in there? What if he jumps out?

Or what if I get in and he tries to choke me like in the movies? All these thoughts almost drown out unmistakable sounds of shoes slamming against pavement. My head whipped around instantly, and there he was, sprinting at us, full speed out of the woods. I screamed bloody murder, broke for the car, jiggling the handle as I realized I had locked it. Emma was already on the other side screaming at me to unlock it. I fumbled with my keys, but managed not to drop them as I unlocked the door, flung

it open, and practically threw myself inside. I just managed to close the door when he was there, slamming his fists against the window, and shouting incoherently. I was sobbing at this point and barely managed to lock the doors as he goes for the handle, and yanks it as hard as he can. Emma was screaming at me to go, and through my tears, I shoved the key into the ignition and flew into reverse.

He was still chasing us, yelling as I veered backwards out of the lot, and turned as fast as I could while slamming on the gas. I was driving like I was still in a go-cart, but I didn't care. I could barely see the road through the flood of tears, and Emma had to grab the wheel several times to keep us from crashing before I regained some composure. Though obviously shaken up, she managed to keep her tears in and be the sane one out of the two of us as we drove at least 30 miles over the speed limit the whole way back to my house.

We didn't tell either of our parents about this, and looking back I wish we had because there was something seriously wrong with that guy. But we were too scared of what they might say or do. I think we thought they'd blame us somehow. So it stayed a secret between us, something we didn't even talk about until months after the horrifying encounter. Safe to say, we never went back to Miller's fun park after that. I urge you all to be extremely careful when you go out at night, and to the lunatic who

tried to do God knows what, to my cousin and I. Let's never meet again. Thanks for listening to this week's episode of Let's Not Made A True Horror Podcast. This week you've heard, Paint the Town Red. Doesn't mean blood, as the scorned painter who was out for a mine seems to have misunderstood. If I read it, user pumpkin spice, whatever. Never park near the park again. If I read it, user John Jacob Jingly Smith. And finally, why I'll never go,-carding again. By Reddit user, Aurora Pierce.

Before we go, I want to take a second to give a quick shout out to my friend Brianna Morgan. She's recently released her horror play titled Unboxed. I'll tell you a little bit about it. Greg Zipper is a paranormal flogger who's livelihood relies on his online popularity. Greg purchases a dark web mystery box in hopes of restoring his audiences' faith in him and hitting 1 million subscribers. But when Greg opens the box he gets much more than he bargains for, including a boxer who's determined to stop him from taking his loved ones for granted.

Now Greg must do all that he can to stop the boxer or else he'll lose his livelihood along with the woman he loves. Unboxed is a horror play about not taking real relationships for granted. Even when you've amassed thousands of virtual fans as Greg learns the hard way. It releases everywhere on July 25th, 2020 and is available for pre-order now just follow the link in the show notes for this episode, or head over to Amazon or Barnes & Noble to get your pre-order today. She's a brilliant author that I would be excited to work with if I had the chance in

the near future, maybe on something spooky. Anyways, thanks so much for listening this week guys, and supporting the show if you'd like to gain access to bonus episodes as always head over to patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast and send your stories in to hear them on the show to let's not meet stories at gml.com. I'll see you guys next week for a brand new episode of Let's Not Meet. When you download the Croger app, you have easy access to savings every day. Shop weekly sales and get personalized coupons to get the most value out of every trip every time, whether you shop in-store or online. Download the Croger app now to save big. Croger, fresh for everyone, must have a digital account to redeem offers.

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