Morbid - Episode 498: Listener Tales 78

Episode Date: September 28, 2023

It’s wackadoodle time on this week’s listener tales. In this installment we have the only and only butt mountain, possible imposter police officers, attempted kidnappings, psychic friends, demon filled dorm rooms, and haunted airbnbs. If you have a tale you would like to send in please send it to [e-mail] with “Listener Tales” somewhere in the subject line :)See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

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where you can listen to even the royals exclusively and add free right now. Your hair looks really good. Oh, thank you. Hey, weirdos, I'm Ash, and I'm Elena, and yes, I'm Morad. I feel like we should leave in the part where you said my hair looked really good because that was a very nice moment. I was going to say it before. I was going to say it again, I mean. No, I just like it.

It should be before the episode starts. Okay. That should just be the beginning. Yeah, it's how the recording started. Let's keep it in. Let's keep it in. Keep it in. Do we, do we burp before we started?

No, you never know. None of this one at least. I, yeah. You know? Oh, did you burp before we started? No, you never know. None of this one at least. I, yeah. You know, oh, did you burp? I keep burp. Leave it in. Leave it in. Mention it all.

Oh, sorry, Pete. Also, quick update. In one of my last cases, Jack Tupper, I mentioned a fucking horse owner named Bill Frankl. And one of her horse owner. Horse, horse owner. Right, wasn't it? Or he was a horse owner. Oh, and a higher Jack Tu Bill Frankl. And one of her horse name. Right, wasn't it? Or he was a horse owner.

Oh, and a higher jacked-upter to be the trainer. And his name was Bill Frankl. And one of our listeners said that that's Bethany Frankl's late father. I myself need to do some digging to make sure that's true, but could be. When you said the name, I almost was like, is she any relation to Bethany?

When I wrote it, I thought it, but I was too involved in the case that I forgot to go back and look at that little part. We all thought it, none of us said it. But like, is that him? You're like, for real? Oh, I'm so proud. He's a very quick Google search that we can do.

It's her dad. That's her dad? Shit, look at that. He was called Bobby, though. So I'm like Bill Bobby. I mean, I don't know. People got people. Both all kinds of things. That I'm like Bill Bobby. I mean, I don't know. People got people with all kinds of things. That's a wilds little.

That's cray cray. Tid-b-yep. Thought it's cray cray. Tid-b-yep. Wildtid bit. Well. Sorry, I just got lost in a headline. I was like, oh, you're like, hey,

we're doing something here. All right, so it's listener tails. And you know what that means? It's brought to you by you for for you, for everyone all about you. Yay! We're Lucy Goosey. It's listener tails. Listener tails.

Listener tails. This one I don't think has a theme. It's just an episode with crazy tails in it. Can I start? Yeah. Awesome. My tail is called the time I was accused of being an international spy for taking a picture of a mountain that looked like a butt.

So that's why I wanted to start because they took a picture of a mountain that looked like a butt. I already love this. And it does look like a butt. They sent a photo. All right. So it's high ash, Alina, and Deb Deb. Just wanted to start off by saying how much I love the podcast. I'm so glad that my coworker recommended it to me because it's really kept me sane over the past few weeks as I've been dealing with a severe concussion. Oh my gosh. And I haven't been able to do pretty much anything other than listen to podcasts. Listening to your episodes have kept me entertained and saved me from overwhelming

boredom, so thank you. You're welcome. You're welcome. I'm not sure if the story is something you'd want to share on Listener Tales. It is. But I figured you might get a kick out of it either way. I attached a double space puttafa and some pictures to this email. I've also changed the names for privacy purposes.

Thank you for reading. So this happened while I was on a language immersion internship program into a country, a NOPA county, a country. A country. I got to go. A country in East Africa. I've changed all the names for privacy reasons. Stop laughing at me.

On this particular day, I had gone on a site visit to improve. Shut up! It's not just me laughing, my kids too. I know everybody's laughing. It's not just me being mean. Everybody's mean to me all the time. Please rescue me. Rescue me.

Rescue me. It just harmonizing BRB. On this particular day, I had gone out to a site visit to a rural woman's banking collective with some employees of the nonprofit I was interning with. And a woman from the UN who funded the nonprofit, that's pretty fucking cool. The day had already been longer than expected

because we had to stop for about an hour on the way to the village for a road to be built. Oh, you know. Just got to pause this road as being built. Now, I still have a lot of questions about the road being built because if it wasn't there in the first place, why were we going that way? That's what I was going to ask. Maybe it had been built and destroyed and they were rebuilding it. I don't know. Who knows? We'll never know. Anyway, we were running late because of the road situation. And I was extremely hungry because I hadn't eaten anything all day. After the woman from the UN had regaled, regaled, regaled.

regaled. Me with stories about getting typhoid from food she ate in a similar context. Oh, that'll get you hungry. That will make you not want to eat anything ever. I felt bad for not accepting the food from the generous woman who offered it to me, but I have already had enough stomach issues as it is, and I really didn't feel like I could take the risk. I was also starting to get nervous because the sun was starting to go down, and I had been warned many times about the dangers of being out after dark.

Ah, so you can imagine my delight when my coworker pulled the car over for no apparent reason, and pointed exactly, excuse me, excitedly out the window saying, look Anna, what does that mountain look like? Being the annoyed wet blanket I was feeling like in that moment I replied in a monotone, a butt jama, it looks like a butt. Do you want to take a picture? I did not. I just wanted to get home before dark and eat something so I sat grumpily in my seat as everyone else in the car took pictures.

And hindsight, the mountain really did look a lot like a butt and it was pretty funny, but I was not feeling it in that moment and it turns out that was probably a good thing for me. Oh man. My annoyance quickly turned a panic though when a man in a dirty t-shirt and cargo pants stuck his arm into the driver's side window,

reached over to Juma and pulled our keys out of the ignition. The way my entire body would shut down. I just ceased to exist. The fighter flight response that I am currently feeling just thinking being in that position is outrageous right now. Gotta go. Naturally, Juma, who was in the driver's seat, asked the man what he was doing and demanded the keys back. The man responded that he was a police officer, doubted, and was in the driver's seat, asked the man what he was doing and demanded the keys back.

The man responded that he was a police officer, doubted, and couldn't give the keys back because we were a threat to national security since we were taking pictures of the landscape close to the border and foreigners were in the car. Now this was clearly bullshit because the village we had been at earlier was much closer to the border and we had been taking a buttload of pictures there without issue. No pun intended. I'm also not even sure he was a police officer

since he didn't give us any form of ID. And was definitely not dressed like a police officer. I wouldn't count on it. Yeah, no. I explained to him that I was not in fact a spy, but rather a student and offered multiple times to show him my passport in Visa. He was uninterested.

After a few minutes of back and forth, he demanded that Juma get out of the car student and offered multiple times to show him my passport in visa. He was uninterested. After a few minutes of back and forth, he demanded that Juma get out of the car to quote unquote, settle this. I hate this. I feel like we're going to have a cage match with the stuff. Yeah. This is where I started to get really worried. I bet. The police in this country did not have the best reputation. And while I knew he probably just wanted a bribe, I was scared he might beat Juma up if he didn't want to pay. And Juma was a stubborn but not very large guy. After a few minutes of me creating my neck

to try and see what was going on next to the car unsuccessfully, the next thing I knew, Juma was getting back into the driver's seat and the police officer, quote unquote, was hopping into the back seat of our car, getting real cozy with my coworkers who were now sitting four people in the backseat of our car, getting real cozy with my coworkers, who were now sitting four people in the back row of seats. What?

We're all going to the police station to get this figured out, he announced. What? What? No. I was actually pretty shocked by this development. Oh, were you? And doing it.

Because up to that point, I was fully convinced that he was not a police officer, but rather a random guy trying to make a quick buck. To be honest, me too. I'm still not convinced that he's not up. Per this guy's insistence, Juma drove the now very crowded car to the local police station,

where we went in one by one for questioning. I began to feel very glad that I did not take any pictures of butt mountain because they demanded to see my camera roll and had the pleasure of seeing my progress pictures from my workout plan and a few shots of monkey stealing stuff from trash cans. The rest of my co-workers frantically tried to delete their butt mountain pictures before their entire nation. Much to my chagrin, the woman from the UN decided to use this moment to take a moral stance and refuse to show them her phone because of diplomatic immunity.

Wow. Being that my main goal was getting home before dark and getting something to eat. I tried to convince her to just let it go and show them her phone. She had already deleted the pictures of Butt Mountain, so I didn't get the be deal. Because she didn't speak the local language and the police officer didn't really speak English, I got the pleasure of being her interpreter. The police officer repeatedly demanded to know if she thought he would steal her phone and insisted that he had no reason to

because he had his own iPhone. He's like, but I have my own phone. He's like, I don't need your fucking phone. He also clearly did not know much or care about the UN or the idea of diplomatic community. The whole situation was just ridiculous to me. And I had no interest in being the middleman, but there I was.

In total, we were probably at the police station for about three hours before the quote-unquote supervisor. Again, I have no idea if any of these people were actually police officers, but I think the police we were at was a police station unclear. Oh, what? I'm so confused. Came to see what was going on.

This supervisor did have a healthy respect or fear of the UN. And when the UN woman told him she needed his name and badge number to report to the UN while she was checking in late, he insisted that we leave as soon as possible with a deluge of apologies. Wow. Unfortunately, I did not make it back before dark, but did get home safe despite having to jump into

some underbrush filled with rats to avoid getting it by a car. There were no street lights on my road, so cars generally couldn't see pedestrians after dark. At this point, I still have a lot of questions about what happened that day, but I'm just happy to be able to look back at the story and laugh.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far, and keep it weird, but not so weird that you pretend to be a police officer and steal nonprofit workers' keys and drag them to a maybe police station for hours when they're really just tired and hungry. For obvious reasons, I can't attach any pictures of Butt Mountain, but I've attached some pictures

of the road being built here. I have no idea how to react to that one. That's funny, because I thought the picture that you did attach looked like a butt. I was gonna say I didn't see the Butt Mountain, so I thought I was to that one. That's funny because I thought the picture that you did attached looked like a butt. I was gonna say I didn't see the butt bounce, so I thought I was just missing it. Yeah, it's not a mountain really now that I look at it. It's just a tree and some brush.

You're all right. But now I really wanna see what a wild story. That's insane. Truly a wild story. Wow. Dang, Anna. Imagine. That's not your real name. I know that, don't worry. We're not Wow. Dang, Anna. Imagine. That's not your real name.

I know that. Don't worry. We're not using real names, but never. But dang. I just like that butt mountain was the thing that almost got you guys. But, I'm like, oh, that's not what I meant to say. That's what I meant to say. Oh, man. It's called Mr. Ballin's Medical Mysteries. Why medical mysteries? Well, we've all been there.

Turning to the internet to self-diagnose are inexplicable pains, debilitating body aches, sudden fevers, and strange rashes. Though our minds tend to spiral to worst-case scenarios, it's usually nothing, but for an unlucky few, these unsuspecting symptoms can start the clock ticking on a terrifying medical mystery, like the unexplainable death of a retired firefighter, whose body was found at home by his son, except

it looked like he had been cremated, or the time when an entire town became ill with nausea and chills, and the local doctor chalked it up to being food poisoning until people started jumping from buildings and seeing tigers on their ceilings. Each terrifying true story will be sure to keep you up at night. Follow Mr. Ballon's medical mysteries wherever you get your podcasts. Prime members can listen early and add free on Amazon music. All right, well, I'm gonna move on to...

Listener Tail, my husband was kidnapped as an infant by child traffickers. What? What? Oh. Let's see what this is about. It says, thank you so much for the opportunity, Deb. Hey, Deb Deb shut up. Hello, Weirdo's.

First of all, my husband is live and well and was unharmed in his kidnapping. Good. I put the subject line as a question because this was my reaction when my mother-in-law told me the story. You can call me by a name I have always loved for a little girl, Siggy, short for a Norwegian name, Sigrid. I was originally planning on using my real name and coming up with an attempted witty and humorous introduction considering my name is Andrajanus and is often

mistaken for a man's, I am not a man and, have the postpartum bodily scarring to prove it. However, for the purposes of this story and to bend to the will of my catastroph... I can never say that word. Catastastrophysic. There you go. Right? Anxiety sounds good. I will be using aliases.

That's totally fine with us. A few things before we get into it. Number one, I feel I should be shunned from the podcast universe for not having heard of your show prior to my book club picking the Witcher the Run for the month of October last year. Hey, that's awesome. A linear novel was amazing and I loved every bit of that book. Thank you. In my defense, I tend to stay within my comfort zone when it comes to books, podcasts and movies. And my particular podcast love is True Crime, but one story seasons, such as Up and Vanished and Serial. Really?

However, yeah. However, that has all changed now because I cannot stop listening to your podcast. Thank you. Shout out to my fellow morbid weirdo listeners, Lauren, Erin, Andrea, and Katie. They all gave me permission to use their real names. Hell yeah, you guys.

Hell yeah. Number two, since listening to the show, I've literally laughed out loud hearing ashes unique vernacular term, including terms such as mans, thick oms McGee, and and God's. And God's. Congrats by the way. Also being that I am a six, I am a six generation appellation or appellation. Appellation Okay, Appalachian Mountain woman, I can confirm you just told me how it's pronounced. It's pronounced Appalachian. Thank you. I will hold on to that though.

I firmly believe that anytime Appalachian is mispronounced, an ancestor of mine rolls over in their grave saying bless their heart, dripping in old Southern Lady condescension. So for the sake of my gun, but not forgotten, family members with cool ass names like I see in Zeta. Oh hell yeah. Just say it correctly folks. Apple latch. Apple latch in. From your own out.

It feels right. It feels better. Finally, the story is not mine to tell. I take pride in sharing it because my husband was kidnapped as a great addition to two truths in a life. Totally. But ultimately, the only more bid worthy happenings in my life have involved in my father and a ski mask

trying to scare me in a local criminal, trying to escape the law by entering my house. Those are pretty good. I feel like the second one in particular. And though both experiences were equally traumatizing, the story is much more entertaining and just freaking insane. I myself even found it hard to believe

when I first heard it, but it says true is a dog's love for its human. I do have a few what I've called SIGGI side notes scattered throughout the story to clarify things or to add interesting tidbits. Those are from me, but the bulk of the story is from my mother-in-law's perspective. So without further ado, here is my mother-in-law

Drew's story of her five-month-old baby, Tee, kidnapped in Hawaii. Oh my God. She chose the name and it made me laugh considering the podcast we are submitting this to. Hey Ash's fiance. It is long. So if it doesn't get played on the podcast, I completely understand. But I felt y'all would appreciate the read given the story. I've attached the double space puttafa, another term I'm now obsessed with for you viewing these as well as the newspaper article about the story. So you know it's real.

And some picture of my mother-in-law, my husband and I, and my own little guy for reference, oh my god, the most beautiful child. It's adorable. So beautiful. By the way, Ash, she is a Libra and I'm a Virgo. Okay. Oh, we got a Libra in here. Oh, one more side note.

My dad has some creepy stories like my out waking up in a cemetery across the street from their house as a kid, and my Nana pronounced Nana being temporarily paralyzed by otherworldly beings. So if you like me to share those, let me know. Please do. We would like that. Keep on keeping it weird, my gal. SIGGI. Are you family?

So beautiful. Truly a god, just family. Oh my god, you're a little bippy. All right. Many of us have had moments in life that we can look back on and realize how extremely brave and lucky we are for having gotten through them. For me, the kidnapping of my child was such an event. I would say that. I'm already, I just got full chills down my body.

My body warmed. I remember the day clearly, October 10th, 1989. My son was just one day shy of five months and was very much still an infant. We had just relocated to Waiki, Waiki, Waiki, Waiki keys, thank you, from Cupertino, California. We had been living with my mom and my unhinged stepfather and wanted a new living environment for the health and safety of my son and I. I was a radio DJ by trade and had decided to go to Hawaii to work for my friend who was a new program director at KPOI, Honolulu's Rock Station. A few weeks prior to this incident, I had

managed to secure a small studio apartment in Waikiki for tea and myself. I recall being shocked at the extremely high cost of rent. I was on the hunt for a babysitter so that I could work in the evening hours. My general shift was going to be from about 10pm to 2am. After failed the tempset finding care through the people I had met, and after scouring the newspaper ads without success, I decided to place an ad myself. Several people responded to the ad, and in Hawaii, a lot of ladies take on child care from their homes. Surely, I'd be able to spot someone who is not a legitimate caretaker, right? This area is known for being very welcoming and family-oriented. One person in particular responded and left a multiple messages.

I was going through a few others and had not called her back yet. However, she called me again, sounding almost pushy about the job. I should have seen that as a red flag, as none of the other applicants had that same approach, but I really needed to find a sitter, and I honestly didn't think much of it. I finally spoke with her and we talked for about 30 minutes. She sounded nice, she had kids of her own, she was retired nurse, et cetera, et cetera, all the normal sounding stuff.

So we set up a time to meet in person. This initial contact was right around the time of my birthday, October 7th. So it's easy to recall the events in the timeline. I remember going into her apartment, which was very close to my own. It was a tall, high-rise building sitting in the alawai canal in the middle of Waikiki.

This is important to the story, as being familiar with this building, was one of the main factors in knowing what happened to T. Since it was close to my birthday, we agreed that this woman, who we will call Stella, for the purpose of the story, would try out an hour or two with my son and see if it was a good fit for us all.

I was super overprotective of him, being that I was a 25-year-old single mother, living 2,400 miles from home. Holy cow. Therefore, I always had anxiety when anyone else watched him aside from my mother. I'm that way anyways, so don't worry. Mm-hmm. I decided it's me, like it's me. I decided to go out for a few hours to the Hard Rock Hotel in Casino.

It had recently opened and was supposed to be an amazing experience. We decided on a date and time, and I really looked forward to a few hours on my own. When I arrived at her apartment the initial time, Stella watched tea. She was wearing a house dress. Was about my height of 5'8, was thin with bleach blonde hair,

and more wire-rimmed glasses. She literally looked like a younger grandma type and appeared to stay home most of the time. That night, for me, was everything I wanted it to be. And the check-in calls with Stella went equally as well, with her giving me frequent updates on how she was doing. I felt very excited to be moving on with my life and away from living with my abuse of stepfather. After a few hours of dinner and drinks, I called the cab and headed back to the apartment complex. When I got back to her 21st floor apartment, Stella quickly opened the door and invited me in. The baby was sleeping soundly in a bed we had made on the floor and he looked peaceful and happy.

We talked about how she was feeling, how I was feeling, and confirmed that we both wanted to do this again in the future. I scooped the baby up, went down to the awaiting cab and back to our new apartment. Stella and I continued to talk on the phone in the coming days and she always asked how T was doing and what he was up to in any given day. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Conversations were normal, she listened to my request and she seemed like a genuinely nice person.

I never once felt any weird vibes or feelings when we spoke. Isn't that so scary? That's terrifying. Some people just don't give off the vibe that they're a fucking monster. The next opportunity for her to watch him was on the night of October 10th. I had to go to the radio station to train before I could go on air. So I scheduled to be there in the early evening late afternoon for this purpose. I thought it would be a great time for Stella to

watch the baby again and do another trial run before I had to work full time. As I had done this, as I had done before, I bundled the baby up, filled his large diaper bag with all the things he could possibly need, and caught a taxi back to Stella's apartment. Everything, once again, seemed normal when we arrived, and she answered the door inviting us in. However, it did distinctly remember two things.

One, she was wearing a house dress like before, but this time she had regular clothes laying out on her bed, which I could see from the living room. That struck me as a little odd, but I said nothing. Two, she had placed two very large suitcases directly adjacent to the front door. Those suitcases had not been present in the, during the previous visit. I asked her about them, and she said she was taking them downstairs in the morning to her storage unit in the garage.

This didn't seem unusual as many of these buildings had subterranean parking with private storage units for tenants items for an additional fee. The baby was sleepy, so after sticking around for a few minutes chatting, I handed him over to get ready to leave. I recall saying something like, you don't have plans to go anywhere, right?

And she left as though the idea was preposterous. She was drinking a Coca-Cola from a glass with ice, and I watched her swig and refill it several times while I sat there. I stood up to leave, and as I left, I remembered that the lobby of her building had a large bank of phones. I'd be meaning to call my best friend Bill for several days and I'd not gotten around to it. So I decided I would use the phone in the lobby to update him on my new job and our life in Hawaii before going to work. This proved to be a very critical decision in all of this because had I not stopped to call him in the lobby,

Stella would have likely gotten away with kidnapping my five-month-old. Ooh, I just got full chills all over again. Ooh, I walked to the bank of phones. That is some like mama power in there that you were just like, you know what, I'm gonna stop right now. Yeah, I'm not gonna wait till I get to the station. I'm not gonna, I'm gonna stop right now.

I walked to the bank of phones and remember getting him on the line immediately. Sounded relieved to hear from me and was asking all about the baby. I told him about the job and the new apartment that I was excited about finding a babysitter and that I was in a really decent place mentally. Oh.

The phones were situated in the lobby so that when you use them, your back was turned away from the front door. Therefore, if any one more to exit the building and walk by you, you would most likely not see them. Just before Bill and I said goodbye, he said, please take care of T. And if I were you,

I would go back up there one more time to check on him. What? Fucking Bill. Why would you say that, too? Like that's kind of, you wouldn't think your friend would just say that. He's just like, you know what? He's got a feeling.

This was the best piece of advice I've ever received. I hung up the phone and jumped in the elevator, heading back upstairs to sell his apartment. I remember walking up to the door. I had just left 15 minutes earlier and seeing that it was slightly ajar. It caught me off guard and I pushed on it, immediately calling out her name.

No one answered. I ventured further into the apartment and realized Stella's house stress was thrown on the bed. The clothes she had laid out earlier were gone. The lights were off, the TV was off, and more importantly, my son Stella and those two suitcases had vanished. Oh my God.

My heart just dropped for you. Truly. I began to freak out and I can literally feel the fear and adrenaline pumping so hard in my heart this could not be happening. I must have been seeing things wrong. She had to be here. Where was my baby?

My thoughts were racing and I started hyperventilating. I was completely overwhelmed. My first thought was that perhaps you'd just gone to take the garbage out. They had a separate garbage room in these buildings requiring you to walk down the hall to throw your trash away. I ran as fast as I could down the hall shrieking her name

because I was just so scared. Where had this lady gone with my baby? Oh, my God! I jumped back on the elevator thinking I would ride down to the security desk to the lobby and ask them if they'd seen her or the baby. When I approached the desk, I asked the two men sitting there if they had seen Stella come down the elevator

or leave the building in any way. They both nodded their heads and pointed to the door. I asked, did she leave? They both nodded again. And one said she was carrying a baby and almost slipped on the floor, nearly dropping him on her way out of the building. I could not believe what I was hearing. Why? Why did she leave? I asked the officer at the desk to call 911 and report a missing child. I talked to the police and gave them a brief account of what happened, all in between sobbing and hyperventilating. The police assured me they were on their way. After I hung up with the police, I asked the security people to begin calling all taxi services in the area so they could determine which taxi may had possibly picked her up.

They called at least six or seven cab companies and each time they were told that no one had anyone that sounded like Stella or a baby in their car. By the time I had, by this time I had gone out to the front lawn in front of the apartment building and was sitting on the grass, bawling my eyes out. I've been through so much bringing this baby into the world alone just a few months before and thought, after everything we've been through, this is how it's going to end. Oh my God. Before long, several police vehicles pulled up. I recall there being a large police presence with an ambulance in tow as well.

It was during this period that I kept trying to figure out a way to make it back into the apartment building and up to the very top to jump off the roof. Oh my God. I know it sounds scary, but I really thought that if my baby was gone, that I really did not want to be on this earth anymore. The police asked me questions, mountains of questions. How did I meet Stella? What did she do for work?

What did she look like? What phone numbers did I have for her? How many times did you watch them before today and on and on? I was completely overwhelmed into this day, have never cried so hard in my life. After sitting outside with the police, I could hear the radio traffic on their police scanners

as the situation progressed. I couldn't understand everything as they were using codes, but evidently, they were pursuing some leads in the case and we were on standby. I cannot recall exactly how long we sat there waiting for any type of news, but it seemed like two hours at least, probably more. I remember one of the officers, a large Samoan man sitting next to me on the grass, reassuring me everything would turn out okay. I really didn't believe him, but I kept nodding my head.

Just then, an officer on the radio said the words my entire body had been aching to hear. We got him. We got him. We found the missing baby. Oh my God, my whole body is clear. Like literally. I was just going to say chills. Like I had goosebumps of my legs right now. Everyone around me cheered and high-five.

We were all so excited. This was full. But this was still very much a police investigation. Even though they had somehow managed to find him in Stella, things still needed to be sorted out. And the place to do that was the police station. I was in a squad car and driven downtown to the Honolulu Police Department.

It was a low-slung building on a side street with yet another subterranean parking structure beneath it. I was led into a fairly large room that was dark inside with windows covered by dark drapes. I was asked to sit at a large rectangular table in the center of the room with a very large real-to-real tape recorder in the center.

It was the classic. We just need to ask you a few questions. Montre being said to me. I agreed but kept asking where my son was and when I would be able to see him. They asked me numerous questions over and over again. Framey in different ways. Why did I give my child Sela to Sela? Wasn't it true that I know? Wasn't it true that I no longer wanted him? Oh, she must have said she like sold her.

Yep. Had I called to check on him while I was gone, either tonight or on the previous occasion, she had watched him. I simply tried to calm myself down and answer all their questions clearly and honestly, honestly, to the best of my ability. I understood they had a job to do,

but it was an interrogation style interview. I felt confident in my heart that everything would work out and that I would be getting my baby back soon. Suddenly, there was a commotion at the door of the interview room and we learned that they had arrested Stella and were bringing her downstairs to the jail. They wanted me to go down there and see if I could identify her. I recall feeling so much anger that she had done this and was really looking forward to seeing her face to face. As the patrol car rolled in I could clearly see a set of legs kicking at the

glass of the rear door of the squad car. No face, no torso, just legs. That's so creepy. When the car came to a stop, an officer got out and walked around until it fell out of the car. The grabbed her by each arm and walked in my direction, immediately her eyes met mine and she began cursing at me, saying I had given her my baby that I was a liar and that she was taking care of him because I wasn't in so much other utter bullshit.

She is disturbed. I scream back and I think I called her every name in the book. I was feeling homicidal at that point and really did not care about anything else aside from getting to her. The police had repeatedly, had to repeatedly hold me back as she passed by and went into the jail. By this time, it was dark outside

and the officers escorted me back inside the building to wait. They informed me that he had been taken to the hospital as a precaution. To be checked out for any injuries or sign of abuse from Stella, I remember sitting in that police station for another four or five hours. Oh my God.

It felt surreal and very out of body. I had a hard time thinking about what had just happened because I was in shock, and I was not responding to things as I usually would have. After about five hours, an officer came to get me to walk into a different area of the police department. When I rounded the corner, I saw T wrapped in a sheet with nothing on but a diaper. He saw me and started crying.

I walked over, grabbed him, and gave him my biggest, longest hug I could imagine. He immediately relaxed and he appeared to be very tired. I asked the police if I could leave and go home, and they said yes. They stated Stella would be in jail for a while as they were charging her with colonial... Volonial? Volonial. Volonial. Volonial. Volonial. Felony custodial interference in the first degree, a major felony. There were additional charges

as well, but that was the main charge. I was contacted the next day but police and they told me the story of how she was caught. I was chomping at the bit to learn the story of her capture and her motive for kidnapping my child. Yeah. According to police, she had gotten into the cab with the baby. She had directed the cab driver to drive her to downtown Honolulu to Bishop Street.

The taxi driver immediately felt weird vibes from her as she was too old to have such a young baby. She was only clothed in a diaper and a sheet. He asked who, her whose baby he was, how old he was, and whatever information he could glean from her. Wow, this guy's like great. Seriously, she told him she was caring for a friend's child because the mom needed a break

and could no longer care for him. Wow. Her response to his questions and her vague answers really grabbed his attention. Good for this guy. While the taxi driver was driving to the destination, he told her he needed to make a stop for gas. She agreed and he pulled over to a gas station.

When he got out, he called into the taxi stand, explaining that he was driving an older lady with a baby and that he was concerned for the baby's welfare. Wow. It was then that the taxi company realized this, realized their driver was driving around with the missing child everyone was looking for. The driver was instructed to act normally and take Stella to wherever she wanted to go, but to stay with her to find out her actual destination. They pulled in front of a large high rise in downtown Honolulu.

Since she had two full suitcases and a baby, the taxi driver brilliantly offered to help her take her luggage upstairs. So he would be able to see the apartment she was entering and provide valuable information to the police. When he got to the apartment with her, he saw an older man and the baby was taken into another room. Oh!

The driver immediately contacted police with all the information he had on Stella, including her exact location. They waited several minutes for other officers to arrive before going upstairs to confront Stella and her parent-boy friend, who is part of the entire plan. When they knocked, no one answered at first. I'm certain they were wondering who could be at the door.

After several tries, they opened the door and were confronted by the police. At first, Stella denied knowing anything about a baby and denied knowing me. Like they're not gonna find the baby in the apartment from the front? Yeah, the police asked to come in talk, or to come in and talk and go over the information knowing anything about a baby and denied knowing me. Like they're not gonna find the baby in the apartment from a friend. Yeah, the police asked to come in talk

or to come in and talk and go over the information that they had with Stella. While they were in the apartment, they heard a baby crying. They immediately knew the gig was up. One of the officers walked to a closed back bedroom door and opened it up inside. They found tea laying in a sheet

and nothing more than a diaper. No bottles, no diaper bag, nothing. I'm not sure what happened to the diaper bag I left with her, but it was gone. What? Both she and her boyfriend were handcuffed and searched. It was during this time that the police discovered passports, other identification and over $30,000 in cash. What the fuck?

It was clear that something nefarious was going on, and both parties were immediately arrested and taken into custody. This is so bizarre. The key to this whole story was the taxi driver. If he had not been alert and aware when talking to Stella, he would have never stopped and called into a report where he was dealing with in the taxi. Since it was already a major response

by the police and looking for a baby, and we knew Stella was in a cab at some point, the driver's call was the one we were all waiting for. I was able to get my baby back at the police station, so T and I went home to our new apartment and called my father who is an experienced police officer for the Sacramento Police Department and explained what happened.

SIGGI side note. My husband's grandpa was not only a Sacramento PD officer, but one who had worked the Golden State Killer case and retired as a captain. Or real bad ass. I was trying to kill me out here. Like what? a PD officer, but one who had worked the Golden State Killer case and retired as a captain. A real badass. Are you trying to kill me out here? Like what story is just the twist and turn seriously? All of it was very hard to believe, and he asked me many questions and for many details.

After speaking, he decided the best thing for me was to gather my stuff and hop on the next available plane back to the mainland. I must say it was very disappointing, as I had high hopes for my time with T in our new state. But ultimately, our island time had run its course and wasn't meant to be. I do not blame you. We flew back to Sacramento, not Cupertino. There was no way I was going to put myself

in my child back into that unhealthy situation. My father was very well connected and was able to find an apartment for me within a few days. He helped us furnish it, and I began looking for work. We were contacted by the Honolulu District Attorney's Office, letting us know victim slash witness, co-coo-a services. I'm not positive.

That sounds right, though. Who could assist me with the resources I may need, as well as to help me through the criminal justice system in Hawaii? They also told me that it might take some time for the case to go to trial, and that Stella had been released on bail with restrictions. The fuck?

She was not allowed to leave the state for any reason, and she had to check in regularly with the probation officer to stay free until trial. She agreed to this. It took approximately two years for the case to wind its way through the court system, and I was surprised when I see the call that we had a trial date. The advocate told me they would be needing me to travel back to Hawaii to be a witness for the prosecution. Oh, man.

I was excited that I might see some justice for it. I've been the scariest, harrowing, and most traumatizing event in my life. It was a warm summer day as I flew out to Hawaii to attend the trial. My mom stayed behind to take care of tea as I had no intention of ever having

him step foot in Hawaii again. Immediately upon arrival, I was called down to the victim witness offices. There, I met with both prosecutors and their staff. I was asked to repeat the story of what happened from my perspective, and they held me to recall certain parts of their kidnapping. My mom was unsteady as I felt I had mentally blocked out much of the incident. It was not something I wanted to talk or think about, but I did my best in recalling the events.

For about three days, we met every day and went over the questions they were going to ask me. It made certain I responded truthfully, but with an emphasis on certain things that had happened. It was like going to school. The biggest pointer they gave me was still directly at the jury when answering, and to express any emotions I might be having after recalling the events of that day. The following day was the start of the trial.

I remember walking into the courtroom and the entire jury box was full of jurors. It was strange seeing Stella sitting at the defense table as I had not seen her a long time. I was placed on the witness stand and my testimony began. It soon came to feel like I, not the defendant, the defendant was on trial. It's sad how often that happens. The defense attorney painted a picture of me that said I was a bad mom and had let Stella take the baby because I wanted to go out and party. I mean, while you were going to your job, he also stressed that I'd willingly

given T to Stella and that the only thing she was guilty of was being concerned for the welfare of my child. It was the $30,000 in cash about that. Yeah. Once it came time and why was it that when you came to, then the police came to the door and asked for the baby, they said there was no baby in the apartment. Exactly. Once it came time for the prosecution to question me, I'm immediately being crying on the stand. It was super emotional recalling the events one by one and having to explain my thoughts and my actions at every step.

I made it clear that in no way had I given my baby to Stella or anyone, and that she never had permission to leave the apartment at any time with my child, I ended up being on the witness stand for three days. I gave honest testimony and told the facts as I remembered them. On the third day, I was released as a witness and sent back to my hotel to wait the next step.

I felt completely spent and cried several more times, recalling the events that I had tried to push down for so long. I was never allowed in the court or in while others testified, so I had no idea what about what other things had been said, other than my own testimony. On day four, we were told the verdict, Edmund reached. Siggie's side note. I became a Suzy sleuth as my mother-in-law calls it, and I ended up finding the basic docket information

on the case. Hell yeah, Suzy sleuth. Jerry debated for less than two hours. This spineless bottom feeder was done. Hell yeah. I was asked if I wanted to return to the courthouse, and I declined as I was scared and nervous and just wanted it to be over.

So I could get back to California and my baby. The verdict came in that afternoon, and Stella and her boyfriend were found guilty on all counts against them. Good. Her boyfriend was convicted of lesser charges because his involvement had been significantly less than Stella.

Now remember, she was out on bail waiting for the trial. So her attorney asked the Cheebele loud to remain on bail until sentencing. Like she's a literal kidnapper. The judge agreed against the protestation of the prosecution. They set a sentencing date for about two months away to allow Stella to prepare for prison. I don't know about that.

I left Hawaii and flew back home and I continued my life in Sacramento and was working and going to school. Tee was two and a half by this time and his only concern was teenage mutant and jitterurtles. The story does not end here though. I was contacted by the prosecutor's office about two months after the trial and told that's still oh I didn't see this coming. I told that Stella had jumped bail and was on the run. She had somehow managed to get off the island and was on into an unknown

destination. The way my stomach is a knelt for you. The prosecutor assured me that T and I were safe and they had hard leads indicating that she'd escaped to England. Oh, fuck did she get to England? They had interpol and the Scotland Yards searching down leads trying to locate her to bring her back to the United States for sentencing as a bench warrant had been ordered by the judge in the case.

Several more months when Biden they continued to search for her. I was not in the loop in any of this and just assumed they would find her and bring her back. After a few more months had passed, I called down to the victim witness program to inquire about the sentencing status. I really did want to know the outcome of everything. It was during this call that I learned from the advocate that Stella had been located, but when they arrived to arrest her at a location in London, she was found dead, strangled to death. Wow. Womp.

I was shocked and felt so many emotions about this. I was not given all the details of what happened, only that she had been found dead by someone else. It was a sad and scary conclusion to a case that would eclipse my life for several years. For my recollection, I was told that she had intended on selling my baby. She had been found with a passport, 30K in cash and plane tickets upon her arrest. It was clear this was a traffic in case

and she had no intention of keeping tea, but was using him as a pawn to make money. That's so scary. I have often wondered if she had done this stand, that's what I wondered to any other people, to take full advantage of a young, single mom living in a different state than her family with little money and resources and literally kidnap her baby to try to sell him

was the stuff of television dramas and crime shows. I will never forget the look of my baby voice face when they turned him back over to me from the hospital. He was so scared. I remember that his photo was taken before we left the police station and he was turned into a new story in the Honolulu star by advertiser.

My God. Siggie side note. My mother-in-law says that you remember seeing a front-page news story with T's picture on it. However, neither of us were able to locate it when we searched online. I found the articles pertaining to T's kidnapping, but both were small little snippets in the crime section of the main Honolulu newspapers. I've attached them to my email.

And FYI, the report that Stella was Drewue's roommate, which was solely untrue. The fuck? They did not interview Drue for the story for reasons unknown to her, so some of the details are reported in an error. Nice. My true thanks and gratefulness go out to the Honolulu Police Department for finding T so quickly and for really pursuing a case against Stella. I'm just so thankful they believe me. I also want to thank the Honolulu's prosecutor's office for getting the conviction in court and for taking such good care of me through the process.

Tea is now 33 years old. Wow. Happily married with a toddler son. I often think of this experience and cannot fathom my life if he was not found and brought back to me. I'm like gonna cry. I know. It is sad that all too many cases like mine

do not conclude with positive results. I'm a very lucky girl, and I thank God every day for getting me through this experience, going on to live a happy, successful life and for making me a Grammy to the sweetest little boy on the planet. Bro, and me. Holy hell.

What a fucking story. I am. Holy shit. I am without words. It's crazy that we're just like looking at a picture of T33 and happy and he's the little boy at the center of the story. I'm like, I'm feel tiering up here. Can you imagine me and his wife being like, there's no way I ever would have known you. I would have known you.

We wouldn't have our baby. It was like Drew and a different baby you. We wouldn't have our baby. It was like Drew would have appeared. So beautiful baby. I know. Like this little baby. I know their baby is so perfect. Oh, I just want to smoke your baby. But you guys are so beautiful together

and your mother-in-law is so beautiful. And it's just like, holy shit. That is on another level. Thank you for, thank your mother-in-law drew for writing that down. That was incredibly written by the way. What an incredibly told story. Holy shit.

And thank you for sharing with us. And thank goodness T is here. And that's awesome. And you guys are beautiful. And I'm just, my whole body is like on fight or flight mode right now. I'm just so stressed out for your mother-in-law. That is one of the craziest tales that we've ever gotten.

It's so scary that you have to be worried about that stuff. It is. And it's sad that you can't trust someone to babysit your child's flag. And it's even worse that a lot of people, because it takes a village. Absolutely. You know, and it's really, I always feel really fortunate that I have so many people around me that I trust and that I, you know, my kids are comfortable with and that are willing to help and able to help. And a lot of people don't have that. No, especially single mothers. Oh, we think about it constantly. Like John and I are constantly like how do people do this without their village near them. Seriously, and I should say single fathers too. Yeah.

Crazy. Wow. Thank you for that. I feel like we need something haunted after them. Seriously, and I should say single father, too. Yeah, crazy. Wow, thank you for that. I feel like we need something haunted after that. Yeah, bring me a haunted shit. All right. Thank you for sharing that. Yes, Ziggy, that was incredible. All right, we've got listener tale. Does a demon come with everyone's college tuition?

Or just mine? I'm obsessed, I'm obsessed. It says, hello beautiful spooky listeners. My name is Addison. Yes, you can use my name. Of course, I have to start my listener tail off by saying how amazing and inspiring y'all are. Thank you You'll have such an amazing bond with each other and never fail to brighten my day enough with all this mushy stuff though Let's go down to the nitty gritty of the scariest fucking night of my life that I still think about to this day

So hang on to your tits. It's gonna be a wild ride still think about to this day. So hang on to your tits, it's gonna be a wild ride. Remix. Remix. So I'm from Greensville, South Carolina and attended college at the Goodle University of Southern Carolina. I remember pulling up to my assigned dorm building

with my dad's car packed to the brim of an absurd amount of unnecessary dorm stuff that I plan to decorate my room with. But hey, a girl can't have too much decor, am I right? No. You are right. You are absolutely right. And a short commute to the, no, no, no,

on the short commute from Greenville to Columbia, I was picturing my dorm to be super cute and homey, but boy, I was wrong. I stepped one foot into that apartment-style dorm and took one look around thinking to myself that there is no amount of home decor in the world to fix this place up. I mean, the place literally looks like Satan himself

lived in that very dorm. Was it golf? Maybe. My roommate, Alaina, maybe it was golf. Came in after me and we looked at each other as if we were thinking the same thing. What the actual fuck? My dad of course started to do the typical dad inspection

of the apartment and my mom kept to sharing me and Alaina, that the place wasn't that bad. Mom, be fucking for real. We hugged our parents goodbye and started to make our little hellhole our own. And the first few months, there were very little strange things that would occur. Cabinet doors would be open when we knew we'd left them shut, and the TV would turn on in the middle of the night by itself. These little things didn't particularly scare us because we just thought we were carelessly leaving cabinet doors open or leaving lights on. Valor. A few months

later, we both found ourselves a boyfriend. They are now our piece of shit exes. Oh my degress. Oh shit. I'm sorry. We both started to basically spend every night with our boyfriend because the apartment was just flat out eerie and scary to be in. I always felt like I was being watched and I had the feeling we weren't alone in that nasty ass dorm. As the holidays rolled around, everyone started to pack up and head home for Christmas break, including our boyfriends.

So we had to tough it out and stay a few nights in the hellhole. I had to stay at an extra few days because I had a job at a stupid ass pizza place and was scheduled to work for the rest of the week. I made a lane of stay with me that whole week because I would rather sleep on a park bench than sleep alone in that piece of shit apartment.

I like that I'm part of this. I do too. I feel good being part of this with you. I like it a lot. She begrudgingly agreed but broke the news to me that she was leaving a day early. Fuck her. I'm just kidding but still. She gave me a hog grabbed her things and mocked out the door.

I wanted to break down crying but it's only one night alone. How bad can it be? Luckily I had to work a double shift that day so I wasn walked out the door. I wanted to break down crying, but it's only one night alone. How bad can it be? Luckily, I had to work a double shift that day, so I wasn't in the apartment most of the day. I got back around 10 p.m. that night and made myself some dinner, sat on the couch to watch my comfort show, Hellia, Rick and Morty.

As I was eating my canned soup dinner and goldfish, that sounds awesome, we call it girl dinner. I heard what sounded like a cabinet door opening in the kitchen. The place was old as dirt, so literally everything creaked and made noises. I've seen way too many horror films in my life to get up and investigate, so I quickly ran to our room and locked the door. The apartment is set up where me and Alina share a big room with two twin beds, and the bedroom door has a big latch lock that you could not get into without a key, that me and Alina tied around our wrists.

I got in bed and listened out for any more noises and didn't hear anything, So I basically gas-lit myself into thinking that I was being absolutely ridiculous and there was nothing there. We've all done that. Yeah. I turned the lights off and got into bed. My bad thoughts went away quickly as I got lost scrolling through Instagram, which was part of my nightly routine. About 30 minutes passed by when I heard the fucking latch lock on my bedroom door, About 30 minutes passed by when I heard the fucking latch lock on my bedroom door, unlock itself. Oh, that's horrible. I was frozen in fear and laid in my bed paralyzed staring at my bedroom door. We had blackout curtains at our room, so the room was literally pitch black, except the light coming from my phone, not barely illuminated the room. The door slowly started to creak open and I shot under my covers because I wanted to become invisible to whatever was on the other side of that door. I started to

cry and even pissed myself a little. I'm such a pussy. I feel you now. I knew for a fact that I walked the front door to my apartment and the door to my bedroom door and the only key to get in was literally still tied around my wrist. All I could hear was heavy breathing and a slow shuffle, like someone was dragging their feet coming into the room. I literally mustered up, or excuse me, I finally mustered up the courage to call out,

Olena, no answer. Olena's like, it's not me, that's, it wasn't me. The breathing and the shuffling got louder and louder. There was absolutely no way in hell that I was going to look at what or who entered my room. I could hear things being thrown around on the floor, and I knew that it was the pillows being tossed on the ground from Alina's bed. Then I heard the creaking from her bed as if someone was getting in bed to go to sleep.

What the fuck? The breathing continued, and I just sat there and silent cried. I am a religious person, so I silently repeated the Lord's Prayer over and over, again, until somehow I fell asleep. I could believe you fell asleep. Just holy shit. There's a literal Damon in the other room. You're just like, 99? I woke up in the morning and looked over at Alena's bed and what the fuck do I see? All of the pillows were on the ground and the comforter looked as if someone had slept on top of them. No. Chills flooded my body because I I watched Elena flawlessly make her bed before she left.

I went to check the front door which was still locked. I called my mom crying and told her what happened, and without hesitation she said, Addison, we need to bless that apartment and get that thing the fuck out of there. I told her that I was just going to come home for now because I could not spend another minute in that place alone. I called Delaina to tell her what happened and she completely believed me and apologized for not saying with me. Apology not accepted. I don't blame you. Delaina's like, God damn it. After we came back from our month break, we walked into the apartment to find all the cabinet and closet doors open.

Even our refrigerator. Hate that. We dropped our stuff in the doorway and closet doors open, even our refrigerator. Hate that. We dropped our stuff in the doorway and ran out of there. I called my mom and I told her that we will not be staying another night there. And my mom said, yes, you are. We are paying good money for you to be there. Thanks mom for the guilt trip, but fuck no.

I love that she's like, we're gonna bless that place. And then she's like, you're gonna stay the fucking there. She's like, listen, I've been paid your tuition. We paid your tuition. We had a gonna bless that place. And then she's like, you're gonna stay the fucking there. She's like, listen, I'm gonna have your tuition. We paid your tuition. We had a deposit on that place that we won't get back. Stay with that Damon. Damn. My angel of a mom drove up to Columbia that day

and made me and Elena walk to the room with her. She walked through the room with her, she yelled, get out of this house. You are not welcome here and read scriptures from the Bible. I'll tell you what, the people on our floor probably thought we were crazy as hell. My mom took us to lunch and dropped us back. I love that she was like, you guys want to get some lunch?

Yeah, let's get some lunch. Let's get some appies. Let's go to Applebees. And we dropped us back off when we walked in the place. It felt lighter and not as eerie. Thank the Lord. We didn't have any more activity since that day, but we quickly, quickly learned from other

students who resided in the building, and quickly learned from students who resided in the building, had strange things going on in their rooms too. Move out day did not come soon enough, but we survived. Me and Alina continued to be roommates all throughout college and are still sisters to this day. All of that is beautiful. As for the building, that fucker got torn down this year as it should. Thank you so much for listening to my tale. It literally gave me chills to write this five years later as it is still the scariest thing that has ever happened to me. I love you both and I hope you have the best day much love at a sin.

Oh, at a sin. At a sin that was terrifying. I hope you have the best day and thank goodness you were out of that fucking dorm. For real. Because holy hell. No pun intended. Magga. Maybe a little pun intended. We hope you have the best day and thank goodness you were out of that fucking dorm for real because Holy hell no pun intended maga maybe a little pun intended that was A lot of the girl no lot of the girl that was intended wow Adesons that was a lot. Should we do one more?

All right, let's do listener till of a haunted Airbnb told by an East Coaster playing the character of a midwesterner. UbSast. Damn. Sorry if I'm slipping over my words. I had like a dental procedure done yesterday. And you know, it should happen. You better get it together. Sorry. Hey, Ash and Alina, I finally found the Kurds

to write in my listener tale. So I hope it makes it onto the pod. It did. As the phrase goes, I've attached a double space put a fun, some pictures as well for your enjoyment. I look forward to more of more of an episodes. Yours truly. Chelsea, the New Yorker who ended up in Wisconsin by Wave, Oregon.

Also, I know Massachusetts pretty well. I was never a fan of Masels, but somehow YouTube made me want to visit more. The BKLYN Italian in me makes it hard to like Boston though. You don't like Boston? We'll forgive you. Can we read this? I'm forgetting because you know what?

We'll forgive you. You have a really cute cat. Airbnb host that was a ghost. And you know what that rhymed? It does. So there we go. It says, hey, Ashina, Elena, I'm Chelsea. You can use my name because I'm a 37 year old Aquarius

with Leo Rising. Still thinks they're 27. I love it. So I love me some recognition flips hair. I recently discovered morbid of May of 2022, but thankfully my life is uneventful, so I was able to catch up to the present day pretty quickly. I first started listening to you when I had a month off from work, so I was painting my home and doing odd jobs around my house.

Now every time I'm in a certain room or staring at my porch, I think I painted that to BTK. Over the exterior door frames, I painted that to John Wayne Gacy. So you're forever stuck in my home and brain now. I'll never forget painting my kitchen to Albert Fish and laughing my ass off at the two of you

trying to explain why they used to, why they, what, why they used to... why they... what? Lila. Why they used to use the Boy Scouts. And the fact that no matter what, there's always an issue with managing paperwork. Truly. Boy Scouts doing police work. Who knew?

Copstripping the ball. Who knew? Who knew? For the last few months, I've been wanting to write in because I have little moments in my 100-year-old bungalow with my old man ghost who watches me when I've had too much to drink or with the old Polish lady who insists on playing with Ivan my cat after 2am. I'm obsessed with your cat by the way.

I'm obsessed with all of that. And Ivan, I love that day for a cat. If you yell at her that it's bedtime, she stops. But this one is about my Airbnb experience and grand rapids. Please give us the other ones too, later. Please do. I live in Milwaukee, please note,

I was not born in Wisconsin or Wisconsin. I am a New Yorker, Brooklyn bread, badass. I just want to clarify, live here because it's cheap. Also, now I understand why you don't like Boston. It makes sense. You honestly think this time piece lesbian would live here at a free will and not inflation. Hahaha.

Back to it, most every Halloween weekend, I drive over to Michigan for a saga tuck. Saga tuck, I got it. Saga tuck, Douglas, adult only Halloween parade. Oh, that's a must for your bucket list. If you love the arts, the gaze, and damn fun weekend. I do. That sounds amazing.

Love all of those sales. I always try to get one night in Grand Rapids since it's a little less than an hour drive from the parade. This one weekend I booked an Airbnb instead of my usual bougie marriots suite. This house was built in the 1800s, so it was freezing even though the heat was on and it was overall creaky and creepy, but so adorable.

I got in, didn't unpacked through my food in the fridge and went out exploring. When I came home to cook and unwind, I opened the fridge and found my chicken breasts wrapped I came home to cook and unwind, I opened the fridge and found my chicken breasts wrapped in very nice linens that had chickens embroidered on them, like they were hand-sown. What?

I stood there confused and triple-checked my brain that I didn't do that. I drank a lot at this time and smoked a lot, too. I could have done it, but I know I didn't. Why would I cover my breasts? I ignored it, made dinner, and went to the living room where I proceeded to pass out. However, many hours later, I woke up freezing,

so I got up to hit the bedroom, and I passed the bathroom where I noticed all the bathroom products were on the floor. Like, someone went in and had a hissy fit over the fact that Tressemae was the shampoo provided. It was me. I knew that I didn't do that, so I took note and headed into the bedroom. I love that you're I knew that I didn't, I knew that I didn't do that, so I took note and headed into the bedroom. I love that you're just like, I didn't do that.

In the bedroom, my stuff was neatly placed at the foot of the bed, and one side of the comforters was folded down as a way of inviting me into bed. What the fuck? I also knew I didn't neatly place anything, and the bed originally did not look like this. So now I'm spooked, and I creep into bed,

totally wigged out of my brain thinking, is my Airbnb host a ghost? Yes. And as I'm laying there trying to fall asleep, trying not to wigg out, I hear pacing in the kitchen. As if someone is preparing a meal, pots moving, someone walking around the island, the fridge opening, opening.

So suffice to say, I did not fall asleep. I also did not go out and investigate. No fuck that. It can't be a meme ghost if they're trying to meal prep, right? I don't think so. My ex-girlfriend joined me the next day because that's what lesbians do. We break up and then take a mini-vak together just to make sure we know the reasons why we broke up. Wow, if that's not the truth. I love you. I told her about my exhaustion and experience, but she doesn't believe in that stuff and said, I was drunk.

Well, guess who heard the meal parping after 2am? Who's the drunk now? Still me at this time. The morning of checkout, I messaged the host and simply said, your place is haunted, to which she's simply haunted. I love that you're like, he, by the way, your place is haunted, to which she simply said, yes, we know, and she's very nice. Which I simply so, I love that you're like, hey, by the way, your fucking house is haunted. To which she simply said, yes, we know, and she's very nice.

Which I simply said, yes, she felt motherly to me trying to take care of me. I rated her five stars. She rated me five stars, and I left. That's incredible. I live in a spooky house, but I'm very cordial with my ghosts. They do nice things for me, like fix my lights or play with Ivan.

That's awesome. I'm also an Airbnb host and have only been told some folks here footsteps. My medium, yes, I have a medium, came to my home and told me all about the folks who live with me and how they watch me when I renovate, wait and paint, and they love Ivan. Oh.

Sometimes Ivan and I hear walking around downstairs or we smell cologne, but meh, it's just the ghosts. But that Airbnb stay was perhaps the creepiest experience I've had. I'm sure the tequila did not help the situation. Never does. If you're ever in Milwaukee and need an Airbnb in a classic 1920s bungalow, look me up. If you end up going to Saga Talk, I hope that's how you say it. I'm thinking of this.

For the dope ass Halloween parade, make time for Grand Rapids. The old houses are off the charts there. Google Heritage Hill. And thank you if you ended up reading this on the pod. I told my homies if you did, I would make them listen to it daily for a month straight, because again, Aquarius Leo flips hair. Well, homies get ready.

Attaches a picture of Ivan and a picture of the front of my home that Zillow took clearly during the month of October because I had it all decorated. Peep that handmade life-sized Michael Myers. Ooh, handmade, I gotta see it. Out of all the things I've accomplished in my life, this is in the top three.

Let me see it, let me see it right now. Let me see this, let me see this. Oh my God, look at that! Holy shit! I did, I didn't spot it at first, but then I did. Damn! God, that's terrifying. You should put that in the top three.

Also, Ivan is beautiful. I love Ivan. And I love it all three. Also Ivan is beautiful. I love Ivan. I love it all, Greg. You are beautiful. You are. You are a dime piece lesbian. A dime piece lesbian.

Correctly described yourself. I'm obsessed with this entire story. Chelsea, that was an amazing story. Also I like the color of your bathroom. Good call. I just love that your ghosts take care of you and play with your cat. I know. That's nice. That's awesome. I really like that. So that's your tired and like,

you love your cat, but you don't want to play with them and you wish somebody else would. When I like that your medium came and confirmed that. I was just like, you know what they like you and they're going to take care of you and play with your cat. Yeah, I also like that you have a medium. I like a medium that I just have. I would also love that. Let's look into that. I feel like we've got a medium. It's got a fucking medium. Chelsea, that was great. Chelsea, Segi, fucking, who else do we read from? I don't know if you're supposed to say the first person's name.

Nope, Ana. Ana, okay. And Addison. Yup, yup, you're all of you. Fucking fantastic. He killed it. I love it. That was a fun one.

That was a good one. We needed those haunting ones to like, you know, be the bread. Yeah, those last two were the fun ones. I didn't even have them. No, none of them were not from that. Yeah, crazy. Whoa.

Well, I guess it's time for me to go now. So we hope you keep listening. Keep sending those lists in a tail. And we hope that you keep it weird. But that's so weird that you live in a haunted house. Are you trying to steal somebody's baby? Are you haunted fucking dorm room? Because that's really terrifying. And I mean, I think you should keep it so weird that you live in a haunted house. So you try to steal somebody's baby or you haunt a fucking dorm room because that's really terrifying.

And I mean, I think you should keep it so weird that your mountain that looks like a butt. Definitely be that word. Yay. Mountains that look like butt spots, butt spots, butt spots. I'm going to go to the next room. Thank you. Hey, Prime Members! You can listen to Morvid, early, and ad-free on Amazon Music. Download the Amazon Music app today, or you can listen ad-free with Wondery Plus and Apple podcasts. Before you go, tell us about yourself by completing a short survey at Wondery.com slash

survey. Thank you.