Morbid - Listener Tales 11

Episode Date: March 23, 2020

It's a really fun Listener Tales tonight, guys! Join us as we fight off a half goat/half man demon, summon the Jeepers Creepers demon, time travel in Australia, say goodbye to that bitch in a bonnet, bite the bits off a potential rapist and dodge a possible decapitation. It's intense in here. Visit our sponsors! Upstart See why Upstart is top ranked in their category with a 4.9 out of 5 rating on Trustpilot and hurry to Upstart.com/morbid to find out HOW LOW your Upstart rate is. Checking your rate only takes a few minutes! Native For 20% off your first purchase, visit nativedeodorant.com and use promo code morbid during checkout! 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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That's ANGI, or download the app today. Hey weirdos, I'm Elena. I'm Ash. And this is a listener tails morbid. I'm gonna go. Brunchy by you for your friend. You and all about you. It's all about you. It's all about you.

We love you. Life is a cabaret. It sure is. Lueanne DeSuppies. DeSuppies? I'm kidding. That's amazing. Lueanne DeSuppies.

It's a little Roni Bravo humor. God, I love Roni. Love Roni. Love Roni. To me. Where's our real housewives of New York peeps out there? Raise your hand. I don't know. We get a lot of York peeps out there? It's pulling up my phone. Raise your hand.

I don't know. We get a lot of bravo heads out there that are like me too. I also love murder and bravo. Murder and bravo are the only things I love. A wonderful mix of murder and bravo are my two favorite things. Well, we decided that we're going to do a listen to a tells episode. The West Memphis 3 kind of destroyed my brain and we needed to take it down a notch and let you guys make us laugh. Yeah, I need to fucking laugh.

Because today's been a sad day. Yeah, it's just been a lot going on. We recorded the West Memphis 3 and that was really sad. Yeah, that's always sad. My heart inside hurts. Yeah, I had Ash watch West of Memphis, which I still very much recommend. Yeah, guys watch it. It's another documentary about the West Memphis 3.

And at the end, when they get at, when they do that Alfred, please. Oh, over again. They like Jason and Damien hug, and then you see Jason with his mom, and it's just a sweetest thing I've ever. He's just like, mom. Oh, he's the purest thing.

I'm fucking cried. Yeah, so go listen to our West Memphis 3 episodes if you haven't already, because. I don't know what you're doing if you don't listen to them all. There's four of them, and I spent basically a month completely enveloped in the West Memphis 3, so go listen to it just for my sake to make it worth it. Please, thank you.

Yeah. So I think we just should dive right on in. We ran about to tap in. Let's do it. Okay. So the first listener tails episode story thing that I'm going to tell is from Andrew. I'm excited because I haven't read any of these. Alaina picked them this week.

Yes, we can. Let's start doing a thing where we switch off. Oh, love that. OK, sorry, go ahead. So this week was my week. It says, Listener Stories. Does time travel exist? Yeah.

Was Kylie a ghost? Or was my weed really laced with LSD? A story from Australia. I hope all three things are true. I read this and I was like, Andrew, for the win. I were talking about Kylie Jenner. Or is it just Kylie? You gotta listen.

So, hey weirdos, I'm a huge fan from all the way down under. In Australia. We love Australia. I'm completely addicted to your show and love the banter between you girls. Also, as an Aussie, I'm intrigued by your accents and some of your sayings, like how you describe people as being super nice or super friendly.

Really? I guess maybe super is not like, I don't know. I don't know. Or maybe he's making fun of us. I'm not really sure either way. Love you. Yeah, love you. So thank you Andrew.

I live in a small town in New South Wales called Bomberow. Bowrow? Bowrow. Shit. I'm kind of, I feel like I have to look that up. Can you look up the pronunciation of that? so I don't think Andrew will yell at me because I feel like Andrew and I trust each other right now So I know he won't

Bowrrow god all right bow roll bow roll we just want to be real You may remember that town as it's close to Ivan Malat's killing grounds And is the town where Paul onions escaped from the creep. Shit! Paul onions, bringing it back. That's where we came up with evil onions. Evil onions, we did. On a side note, how good is it that he is now dead?

Hopefully he suffered to his last breath. Agree. Agree. I'll apologize up front for this being so long but I do assure you it's worth the read. You're welcome. You're welcome. Yeah, never apologize. Long ones are the best.

You're welcome to add that the story for your podcast if needed, and to use my name. Thank you, Ender. Hold on to your butts. I'm holding it. She really is. It all started in February 1995. I was 23 years old at the time.

Yes, I'm an old man now, LOL. I'm living with my then girlfriend in a new-ish two-bedroom townhouse. No history with the place, so not what you consider for a haunted house, et cetera. The place had a garage to park your car and one of those electronic roller doors to gain access to it.

One day, like any other, I went out to get in my car to drive to work. I opened the door and there was a lady standing in front of my car. I was obviously taken aback as this was our place and no one else should be using macarage. I said something like, hey, can I help you? And she turned and looked at me.

We made eye contact and then she was gone. I mean, gone. Just disappeared. Not like in a cloud of smoke or anything dramatic. Just gone like you're looking at something. You blink for a split second and it's gone. I would have, I don't even know. I just would have turned around and gone right back to bed.

No, I would have been like, well today isn't happening for me, so... That's not good. Today's a no. Yeah, today's a big noop, so I'm gonna go back to sleep. No, she didn't appear ghostly like in movies or what you hear. She was dressed well and in her early to mid-30s. I obviously freaked the fuck out and ran inside to tell my girlfriend what had just happened. Not being the supportive type, she suggested someone had laced our weed with LSD, and I was seeing things. Yeah, looking back, I wonder why that relationship

didn't last. I didn't see this being the case and didn't and hadn't actually smoked weed in a few days. So, ha, on her. Yeah, that's just dumb. Yeah. Over the next few weeks, I read some books on ghosts and also brain tumors, etc. I tried to logically or scientifically put the pieces together on what might have happened without any answers. Almost a month had passed and I was home alone watching TV when my cat made this horrible hissing noise, like she wanted to fight the neighbor's cat or something. I turned to see her in the kitchen, I'll puffed up in defense mode and ran in there to see what was going on.

There was the woman again. Shut the fuck up. Standing in my kitchen, looking down at my cat. I said something like, who the fuck are you? She looked up at me, made eye contact, and went to speak, then bang, she was gone again, just like before. Just gone.

I have full body chills. Right? I keep getting full fucking body chills. Right, I keep getting full body chills. This time I knew I hadn't been seeing things as the cat was freaking the fuck out more than me. What the fuck, right? She was dressed the same, almost business-like, was definitely mid-30s and an attractive woman. Not a horror ghostly face at all.

She just looks like your typical real statement type business, really, D. That's even scarier for some reason. Like a modern ghost is terrifying. Yeah, I don't like that. Like someone just wearing a smart pants suit just shows up and you can't shit and you're like, what'd you do with Lady?

Like this. Like you lost. Like a Hillary just shows up and you're like, I was about to say that. I'm like, I think I'm, I feel like you can pain it. I'm like, what's happening? I'll join your cause if you tell me what it is. Just tell me what it is. Just tell me what it is.

Don't keep showing up at my shit. Shoot. Now to cut the story time in half, I won't go into each detail about each time I'd seen her. But over the next six weeks, I had seen her five more times. What? Twice more in the garage and three times in various places in the house. She was always dressed the same way and each time was the same as the last, but sometimes we look at each other

for up to five or six seconds, which at the time felt like minutes. It always ended the same way where it was obvious she wanted to say something. She'd open her mouth as if to talk and then she'd just disappear. That would be the most frustrating fucking thing. Right, I'd go like, I just wanna know what you're saying.

I never felt like she wanted to harm me in any way, but was what I thought was obviously trying to communicate with me. I left welcoming notes for her throughout the house in garage. I left pen and papers lying around for her to communicate with. I bought several disposable cameras.

They were the in thing at the time. Oh yeah. I remember. And spread them throughout the house on timers, hoping to catch a photo of her. But nothing. Like good for him Andrew. You were like on the meds of the cause. One day in late May I'd seen her for the last time. No answer to why it stopped. It just did. Eight years go by and although she was often in my thoughts and I'd researched the shit out of what was going on. I'd even gone for medical CT scans. The lot in case my mind was playing tricks on me. But I had no answers on what I had encountered all those years before.

One late afternoon, I'm coming home from work and this car comes through a tea intersection without stopping. Plow straight into my car and sends me veering across into the oncoming traffic where I'm hit by two other cars. Oh, God, I'm so sorry. A major accident where I was airlifted to the hospital and spent 24 hours in the ICU. Later I found out the driver, whom didn't obey the road rules, was some scumbag, whom was a gnome to police, was a drunk driver, and shouldn't have been on the road. Also, a woman in one of the cars I had hit had ever so sadly passed away at the scene. It wasn't this woman.

During my hospital visit, the police checked on me and cleared me of any wrongdoing and asked if there was anything I needed. I said that although I knew it wasn't my fault, I felt incredibly guilty about the death of this woman and the other car. And if there's any way they could go get a word to her family of my apologies, then I'll rest easier.

Oh, you're so nice. I know, that's really nice. The next morning, a man was at my hospital door, and through tears of emotion, told me his name was Phil, and his wife Kylie was the lady whom passed away. He said she was the mum to two young boys and a loving wife. He asked a bunch of questions about if I'd seen her at the accident, if she was in pain, et cetera. I told him truthfully that I was unconscious pretty much from the impact and couldn't

answer him. He acknowledged I wasn't to blame in any way and all guilt should be with this arsehole who caused the accident. I asked if he minded that I attend her funeral service and he accepted and gave me details. A few days go by, I'm out of the hospital and with loved ones but a sense of responsibility told me I must attend Kylie's service. He's so sweet. Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, the host of Wondery's podcast American Scandal. We bring to life some of the biggest controversies in U.S. history. Presidential lies, environmental disasters, corporate fraud. In our newest series, we look at the Kids for Cash Scandal, a story about corruption inside America's

system of juvenile justice. In Northeastern Pennsylvania, residents had begun noticing an alarming trend. Children were being sent away to jail in high numbers, and often for committing only minor offenses. The FBI began looking at two local judges, and when the full picture emerged, it made national headlines. The judges were earning a fortune, carrying out a brazen criminal scheme, one that would shatter the lives of countless children and force a heated debate about punishment and America's criminal justice system. Follow American scandal wherever you get your

podcasts. You can listen ad-free on the Amazon Music or Wonder App. What if you were trafficked into a cult over shot nine times, or fell in love with a vampire, or went into a minor surgery and woke up one week later, paralyzed. What would you do? I'm Whit Missildine, the creator of this is actually happening, a podcast from Wondry that brings you extraordinary true stories of life-changing events, told by the people who lived them. From a young man that dooms his entire future with one choice, to a woman who survived a notorious serial killer. You'll hear their first-person account of how they overcame remarkable circumstances.

Each episode is an exploration of the human spirit and personal discovery. These haunting accounts sound like Hollywood movies, but I assure you this is actually happening. Follow this is actually happening wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen I walked into the ceremony with my wife. This one is a lot more supportive than my ex-girlfriends. Oh, and just stopped dead of my tracks as I got to Kylie's coffin and took a look at the beautiful photo her family had placed on top of the coffin. I'm sure you've guessed it by now, but I can sure you at the time I had the biggest anxiety attack of my life. Every hair on my body stood up. I was shaking. I went cold and had house bumps. House bumps,

but with sweating tight chested the lot. I felt physically sick that the woman in this photo was in fact the exact same woman who appeared to me all those years before. I have no explanation for these events. I have like full body judgment. I know, look at my arm. Like I'm legit, I've since told the story to family friends, a psychiatrist, and even reached out to discuss it with Phil, her husband. I get a number of answers from you imagined it all to you've had a paranormal experience and everything in between. Me? You don't imagine. That's not it. No, no. That was it. That was it. That was it. Me, I like to think that somehow Kylie found a way to time travel

and was trying to warn me not to drive that night or that she was acknowledging I wasn't to blame. Oh my god. But truth is, I'll never really, I'll never exactly know. I'm 100% confident in my mind that these events happened. And although I'm an analytical person and would like to think I'm quite intelligent, I cannot logically explain what went on. Thanks for taking the time to read my story and hope you can use it on your podcasts. Keep up the great work, girls, and don't forget to keep it weird. Just not so weird that you time travel back to warn someone not to drive,

but don't in fact actually tell them what they need to hear, regardless. My goodness. Andrew. I want him to go to a medium. in fact actually tell them what they need to hear regardless of the dance. Andrew. I want him to go to a medium. Like that's amazing. That story is, that's some glitch in the matrix. Yeah. Doppelganger crazy.

Like my head has cloning. I mean, I'm stressed. That is such a good one. That was banana ice. Can you imagine? I could not. I don't even understand. I really can't. And then to be at the funeral when he finally realized that.

And all of that, just like Andrews has stand up, dude, to be like seriously. I want to send my, like feel, because I understand he probably felt so bad just being involved in the accident that someone passed away. And even though it was a far, and that's what it is, I would fall over. It's insane. So thank you Andrew. That was amazing. Thank you. Our next one is called Listener Tale Kickass Survivor. Yes, victim hell no.

We love survivors. Okay. Hello ladies. I love love love love your podcast and it makes me hollow with laughter. So fucking funny. Never stop doing never stop your banter xx Anyway enough with the bullshit on my story I decided to tell my story after listening to the Susan Walter's episode only three or four people know about this story And they all live in England. I now live in Australia. Yes, so scary all over the place I have not used names and I've never even told my husband my story. Yeah. Nearly 29 years or so in parentheses, fuck, I feel old, I'm 44.

I was with this complete douche of a guy who was my boyfriend at the time, I was around 18 or 19, and he was about 24. We dated for about one year or so, and then I had enough of his bullshit and lying to me. We did not live together, thank God. Or this could have ended very differently. Me and prison for justified homicide. I only know if it killed him a little bit. Just a smidge.

Just a bit. So we broke up big surprise and not very well. You all, sorry, and not very well you all know, oh and not very well you all know the story we have had. We have all had a bad break up. So you know the story, the late night phone calls on the mofo landline back in the day. Yes. Yes, that wanker would wake up the entire host hold that made me a very popular at home. Thanks ass hat. My mom loved that. I wrote my mom. I digress. We had pizza being delivered at first. It was okay. But you get over pizza real quick. And the best thing that got sent to the house was a porter potty. Not like

what the fuck dude I have three bathrooms already. I have never felt the need to piss outside of the ground in front of my neighbors, but whatever floats your boat mate. You haven't had that urge? No. So anyway I used to get a fuckadoodle too in the morning for work at like 4 a.m. and had to walk about a mile or so in the bus stop to get to work. I grew up in England and it's darkest Satan's asshole at 3 a.m. in the morning in the winter. So anyway, I was about halfway through my walk to the bus stop and half asleep as well when a figure all dressed in black jumped out at me.

Like some sort of fat ass wanna be commando. Oh, with a knife telling me he was going to rape and slash me. She's great. I thought I'm not even half awake and cannot be fucking bothered. Well, thank you. My Uber has arrived about 30 years too early.

Oh my god, I'm dead. That was so much. I knew who it was straight away, my mother fucking ex. I thought he was pissing about. Then he grabbed me. Pissing about. I love that. I thought he was pissing about. And then he grabbed me. Pissing about, I love that. I thought he was pissing about.

And then he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me into the bushes. I was picking him and shouting and calling him every name under the sun that I could think of. He had the knife to me neck and was undoing his fly and trying to push me down onto my knees. Oh my God. I'm stressed. Yeah, this is giving me stress ease.

Then a little thought popped into my head. Hmm, emoji. That's what she wrote. If I'm going to die, I'm going to take a big fucking bite out of his winner. I was just gonna say bite it out of this wanker so I don't go quietly. So I bit his fucking dick so hard that he screamed and tried to pull me off,

but I was clamped to it like a fucking limpet, LOL. The mother fucking legend. I don't know. The legend. So much you for president. So I let him. I don't know how to read it. The legend. So much you for president. So I let him go and kicked him as hard as I could, as many times as I could, before he got back up and managed a few kicks and punches

before I was running away, fucking balling my eyes out, running home. Oh. I woke my mom and stepped out up. They took one look at me and called the police. I was covered in bruises and cuts in very shook up and upset. The police could not do as much as it was my word against his. This was a long time before the anti-stocking laws. It was just classed as

exes causing trouble. That sucks. That's horrible. The most humiliating part was having to pull down my trousers down, pants for you Americans, for the police to show them my bruises. I'm lily white just like Alina, so I had a really nice black and purple ass. I feel you. He was just told to keep away from me. Yeah, like that will happen. What the fuck?

But my stepdad is a very big scary guy with lots of big friends who hated to see me upset. They got him in a corner one night in the pub about a month or so later and had a few words with him about how you treat a lady Yes, that ended up with him not working quite quite right for a while But funnily enough him never he never came near me again, and I cannot think why funny that So I'm back to now. I have never let what happened to me get me down or stop me from living my life to the fullest Fuck yeah, I have traveled all over the world and I now live in Australia.

I'm the mother to two girls and I'm strong as fuck. All my kids friends think I'm the cool mom. They all ask me for life advice and I'm more than happy to give it. I love you. I love you so much. Love you girls and thank you for taking the time to read my story. It's the first time I've ever written it down and told it out loud. As I said before, my husband and kids do not know about this. I do not need the piting looks, I'm better than that. As I said in the title, I'm not a victim and never have been. Sorry if it's long, I did not mean to go on and please feel free to edit if you want. I'm not sure if I want my name using as

he could be a listener, I hope not. Thank you for making my life a bit less boring and a lot more morbid. That was incredible. I love that so much and I love how she told it. That's the thing. You guys are amazing stories. I love that she just bit his dick right off. That's like because as soon as I started reading it, I was like, yes, do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Yes, yes you fulfilled it because if you try to rape somebody you absolutely deserve to have your dick fucking bit not munched the fuck off spadow like bad sushi oh wow exactly what a picture you just protected all right so on to mine mine is listener stories demon goat man on the ceiling. No, thank you. Hey lady. Hey First of all, I love your podcast. It is my absolute fav and I listen to a lot of them like to the point where it annoys my husband

But yours is the only one I refresh at least once daily and then he besides a sad side or have a little mini tantrum If there's nothing new there When there is a new episode it makes my day. Every time. So thanks for being your awesome selves and all the work you do and the enjoyment you bring to so many people's days. Love you. Wow. You guys have made my rampant cursing and alarming tolerance for the gruesome. Feel a little more normal and fun. Yay! You are normal and fun. Love you so much.

Love you. So here's my listener's story. I will fucking die if you read it out loud. Oh, you're dead. Oh, no. Are we pieces? God, just the thought. So I'm a nurse. I've been so for 20 years.

So you're a hero. Here is what you're saying. You're a grown man. So I'm a hero for 20 years. Um, fuck. I'm apparently also an old hag. Everybody thinks they're old. Don't worry.

We're all old. It's fine except for Ash. I feel old. She's old at heart. I am fucking old at heart. Just the thought, let me say, hold on. And I live in Canada. I won't get more specific than that. And for the purpose of this, possibly please being read publicly, let's call me Liz. Hey Liz. Many moons ago, I worked nights on the palliative floor at a super old hospital that used to be a sanatorium for TB patients back in the good old days. Shoot. Do not get me started on the levels of fear I had to overcome at that place.

Being trying to catch naps and beds people had recently died in. Nope. The apparently ghostly apparitions that haunted the oldest sections of the building. Nope, I never saw that bitch in a dress. Thank God. Oh God. And the goddamn diarrhea inducing task of wheeling a body to the morgue in the haunted section of the hospital all by yourself at 3am.

Wheel squeaking and nothing but your will to pay the bills to keep you from fucking running away and never looking back. Other than being scared shitless occasionally, it was actually a great job in learning experience. And honestly, it was an honor and humbling as hell to help people and their loved ones through the dying process. Oh, wow. I know that sounds morbid as fuck,

and it is to most people, but I think this is the audience I would understand. So you came to the wrong place. You're here. Let's all hug. No, let's not social distance. Let's all bump up. Let's just hug. No, let's not social distance. Let's just elbow bump. Let's just elbow bump.

Anywho, sorry I have raging ADHD and cannot stay on topic for the life of me. Oh girl, I feel that. Ashes with you. So some of the rooms where I worked were semi-private, meaning that two people shared a room. But there was a sort of half wall separating their halves of the room, so they really, they couldn't really see each other from each other's beds unless they got out of bed and peaked over. In this one room at the time, there were two men. Let's call them Harold and Dave.

Let's do it. Let's do that. Harold was a really quiet guy, literally hardly ever spoke, but was nice and polite whenever he did. Yes, I do believe he expressed a fear of dying at one point of the staff, and in a very soft spoken way, that was not abnormal or noteworthy until later perhaps. Most patients by the time they reached our floor had come to terms with their mortality, and fear of dying itself wasn't something I often heard expressed surprisingly. That's so small. So I do remember that as being a bit different than the usual fears or concerns, more so pain management, leaving family behind, etc.

I don't recall that he ever had family visiting or anything, seemed like a loner. I believed he'd been a farmer. His roommate Dave was quite the opposite, boystress and loud with a fantastic sense of humor. The two shared the room for a few weeks rather uneventfully, other than that Harold was physically declining as expected and Dave was not. They were both dying of cancer. Although Harold was declining physically though, he still had his wits about him, and I don't remember him ever exhibiting any behavior out of the ordinary at all.

No confusion, nothing. Skip forward a few days, I worked part-time, and I came back to work to a really weird vibe on the floor that I felt immediately. People were whispering and just acting really fucking skeevy. I of course got the usual shift change update, including that Harold had passed away. Unsurprisingly, but something was missing. One shift change was over, I got the real story from my co-workers about why everyone was acting so freaked out. And let me just assure you, these are some of the most professional and seasoned nurses I've ever had the pleasure of working with, and they were spooked. Yes, it's my new favorite word.

Like it took me, I love that word so much. Like it took me a lot of prying before I could come corner one of them into telling me the full story. The rest of them didn't want to talk about it at all. Alarming. I should not have asked because it made the rest of my time there a hell of a lot spupier, and I have never forgotten the mental picture that was painted for me that night. Oh great, I'm so excited. Lace. And on tight. So as I mentioned before, Harold had died a few nights before, but not in the usual

fashion. Nope. Harold, although he was still in his right mind up to that point, started to become very agitated in the early evening out of nowhere, and no matter what the nurse's setter did to try and calm him, including all the drugs, he just kept escalating. When I say he was agitated and escalating, what I really mean is that he was yelling and screaming incoherently at increasingly loud volumes from his bed. It went on and on for hours to the point where other patients were crying and upset.

And the nurses were also baffled and upset over not being able to calm him in any way. Like the drugs we could administer on that floor were no joke. He just went from zero to a hundred in the space of a few hours. Let me assure you all, this is not normal and I've never seen or heard anything like it and I've witnessed a lot of death. After a while, as if it wasn't bad enough, the screaming turned into more of animal noises. What? Howling and barking is what the nurses called it. What the fuck? At this point I had shivers and should have known the end of the story.

There would, uh, and should have known to, known to the end of the story there so I wouldn't quit on the spot. Oh, I should have said no to the end of the story there so I wouldn't quit on the spot but no, I just had to hear the rest. Harold screamed, howled, barked and made horrific animal noises until he finally died in the wee early hours. The entire unit, patients, and staff included were all fucking shooketh. I am so damn glad I was not there to witness it firsthand. Okay, but here's where it gets really weird and

scary as fuck. Like as if it did. I was like a mari spooped. His formally extremely extroverted roommate Dave stopped talking, like almost completely. He stopped talking, laughing, joking, and all the stuff he did constantly up until that night. We figured he was just upset about the way his roommate went out. No wonder, but it seemed like more than that.

Finally, one of my coworkers got him to open up one night and this is what he told her very hesitantly, because he insisted that he was not crazy and not confused and not seeing things. He also had never exhibited any strange behavior, confusion, et cetera. That whole night, while Harold was howling and barking and growling and all that weird shit, day was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, eyes fixed in horror, was howling and barking and growling and all that weird shit. Dave was lying on his bed, staring

up at the ceiling, eyes fixed in horror, at the half-man, half-goat thing that was hovering on the ceiling over their partition separating the two men. What the fuck would that be other than a demon? I have never stopped wondering to this day if what Dave saw and was forever changed by was real. He was discharged a few weeks later, still in pretty decent health, and still not the same person he was before that night. Then what the ever-living, f**ked-ed herald do in his lonely, quiet life that warranted being exited from Earth by a f**king half-goat demon man.

What was he so scared of facing after death? God only knows, I guess, and I don't even know if I believe in God. I do however believe that what happened that night was real and fucking scary, and disturbed everyone who heard what happened that night. And poor Dave, the only guy who apparently saw what happened, it was too scared to talk about it for days. Oh my god. So that's my spupiest story ever. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Just so you know, I always got fucking chills when I went into that room from that night on

and never dared to look at the fucking ceiling in the middle of the night during those damn patient checks. Oh God. I still did them because I was a responsible ass nurse, but I was also a fucking terrified 21 year old who did not want to see that goat man hanging out over my head at 3 a.m. while I sat with a dying patient

Love you guys and keep up the amazing work Liz. That is fucking bananas. Isn't that Terra-fine? Yeah, I'm like that one really that one fucked with me like okay like Liz you fucking that What you're here first of all that job that you do Huge deal beyond like we should I you should be paid a zillion dollars for what you do, and second, holy shit. Like I was reading that whole thing initially, did not see the half man half goat on the ceiling thing, even though it was called, like the title had it.

Like when does that come in? I was like, when does that come in? And then I was like, nope, wasn't ready for it. New one was coming and still wasn't ready for it. Wow, that's just fucked up. Yeah. So thanks for- So thanks for-

So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for-

So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- So thanks for- Yeah, I think Dave was like, what the fuck kind of roommate did I get? Yeah, man, no, not a shit. Alright, well next one is called Listener Tale, almost a capitated by a fucking loony.

Woo! Perfect. Hi, my favorite weirdos. I've been wanting to send in this Listener Tale for two years now. Holy fuck, I'm in the podcast that long. I know, isn't that not the fuck? But honestly, it still scares the shit out of me and I've never spoken to anybody about it. That's a running theme.

I even had to reconfirm with my mom as to whether it actually happened the way I remembered it and she confirmed for me that yes It did happen this way and yes, we should all be suspicious of our neighbors all the fucking time. Oh, I don't you worry. Yeah, I'm already there Don't worry This could be super long so feel free to cut out what you like, okay, I won't Okay, so I was three years old when this happened. Wow, that's crazy. But I remember it like it was yesterday. I'm 25 now and obviously traumatized.

I never lived with my mom, though my dad would let me stay with her every second weekend. As she sounds very similar to yours, but let's not talk about that type of child in trouble right now. She's anything like madam. Real thaw earth. Anyway, at this time, she lived in a third level apartment with a huge big echoey foyer that you had to cross to get to the stairs or the elevator.

When I would stay with her, she always had the TV on 24.7. Always turned up excessively loud, while she literally might be my mom. One night, I was like, what? I was like, what I wrote. Shit. I was like, what? That's weird. Yeah.

It's me. One night, I remember for whatever reason, she turned the TV off for us to go to sleep. And within a few minutes, we both started to hear whispering through the fucking paper thin walls, a man's voice. Oh, dear God. Yeah. Yeah.

Saying, I'm gonna cut your fucking heads off when I catch you. It's only a matter of time. I'll get you. I'll get you over and over I Really got to go. Yeah, I hate it shit My mom acted like this was weirdly fucking normal and just turns the TV back on What I'd be like no my mom would have done that shit to you. I'm like you'll bitch A few minutes later, we hear, wait for it.

Yeah, a fucking chainsaw revving from his apartment. I shit you not. I would nope into the next galaxy. Mom, I don't like you anyway, so I think this is the last visit. You're like three and you're like, I've done. Yeah, right? He wasn't cutting through the walls or anything too wild

because you know, revving a chainsaw and your tiny third level city apartment isn't that weird. No, not at all. But he was just revving it to scare us. Scare us he did. My mom called the cops. I don't know what happened after that, but everything kind of calmed down the rest

of the time I was there. Anti-climatic, I know. But trust me, I won't let you down. Oh, she doesn't. Okay. Kind I do a few weeks after that? It was my weekend with her again. Fucking bummer. Yeah. I feel like I'm like, uh, daddy. I feel like I'm a stop these. No kids with mom. And again, she had her TV on super loud all weekend. Now she had to work this weekend and was taking me with

her. Hold on to your butts ladies. I can't even tell this part of the story without crying because I'm shook as shooketh to this day. No, I want to give her a hug. Sorry. Or a bell-bomb. Yeah. My, um, sorry. My mom had her hand on the door knob twisted it and I remember thinking,

why is she leaving the TV on? Probably because my dad was dirt-poor and switched off everything except the fridge to save power. So as I walked to the door, I flipped the TV off thinking I was helping. Literally seconds after I did that, the six foot something ginormous fucking dude. Oh god. Yeah. Oh. Oh, ginormous fucking dude.

Burst out of his apartment next door and threw his body into my mom's door, literally screaming at us that he was going to kill us, that he was so happy to finally see us and couldn't wait to smell our blood. Yeah. Oh god. It's so joke. Mom still had the chain in the door, but we could see he was about to break it off.

He was putting his face right up to the crack, and we could see he was missing an eye and had a spider web tattooed over the fleshy hole where it used to be. What the fuck? I'm not all right. My mom would have this neighborhood. I bet this is my mom's neighbor right now.

God damn. Shit, I'm triggered. Mom ran to me. A spider web tattooed over where is the fleshy hole used to be. What? Mom ran to me and scooped me up. Then it went quiet so she ran back

and pushed the door closed again. Oh, she took me and her to her bathroom to call the police and as she was on the phone with them, she started banging on the door closed again. She took me to her bathroom to call the police and as she was on the phone with them, she started banging on the door again and we heard his fucking chain saw again. Dear fuck, chain saw man. I don't know why he didn't just cut the door down with it. The police told us they found it on the floor still on when they arrived. Instead he started hacking at the door with a machete. For some reason that's almost scarier, yeah. It really is. So while this was all happening, are there other neighbors?

Like what? That are like, hey, hey spider web, can you calm down today? Hey Steven, can you chill Charles? It's time to take your medicine. Kevin, relax. Relax. So while all this was happening,

you remember fucking screaming, yeah. And trying to climb up the walls as if I could get away from it. Oh my god, new speeding. Oh, what? It felt like it took forever for the cops to show up. New Zealand cops probably smoking doobies in the lunchroom and thought my mom was making this whole amazing.

New Zealand. The whole time we were waiting for the cops, this fucking loony tune was trying to break down the door with his body and machete screaming at us how good our blood would smell in his knife. Oh, it's like Ivan. Is that you? The cops finally showed up.

Please bear in mind the cops in New Zealand. Don't carry guns. And this was the 90s. So I don't even think they carried tasers at this point. So it took seven big policemen to pull this creature away from our door, cuff him and get away. I must have passed out when they finally got him because I don't remember what the hell happened after that.

I just remember waking up in bed with my dad still hyperventilating me. God, you sweet angel. So when I asked my mom about this to send this tale to you, she told me she always left the teion because he would whisper so much. Oh, God, right? It gives me chills.

And it was the only way to drown it out. And that she left it on to go to work because he would listen for it to go off and then chase her to the stairs. She also told me that the cops told her this guy was an outpatient from a local mental hospital and that when they searched his place, they found three machetes and a collection of knives under his mattress as well as a full patrol can, did I say that right? Patrol can for his chainsaw. He never returned to that apartment, but a few months later, Mom said she was having lunch in a place called Garden Square, a fav spot for skaters when she spotted this fucking looney-tune mother fucker walking across

park. I didn't have her direction, but not looking at her. I kid on a skateboard when past him and he put his arm out and fucking close the door. That's really funny. That would have been fucking dying. I was like, you guys just like fucking scared him away. Just stick around his arm and just close one. He said, see you later, boy. Wow. Wow.

I'm called the cops again to be like, what the actual fuck? And they told her because he had a mental disability and schizophrenia that they couldn't lock him up and because he didn't actually hurt us, they couldn't keep him hospitalized over a certain time that's really sad that he's a perniet. So yeah that's my yarn about the time my mom and I were almost murdered by a giant spider web-faced creature. Sorry for all the fucks I used never apologize for. Never apologize for fucks. Please feel free to cut a few out. No way. I love you guys so much in

piss that I live a half a planet away and we'll probably never make it to a live show. Keep it weird babes. I love you guys so much and pissed that I live a half a planet away and we'll probably never make it to a live show. Keep it weird babes. Oh, oh, wow. I love you, man. I love you too. And hopefully we can come to New Zealand someday. Oh, we're gonna come to New Zealand someday. I love New Zealand and Australia.

They're like, oh, I love them more than I love. They're in my heart, me too. They're in my heart. That was an amazing job. Wow, what the close-lining thing in the spider web over the fleshy hold where his eye used to be. It was a skater boy everything spider web said see I was So my listener tail is called bitching upon it. Oh, oh, I already don't like it and it's from

Caitlin already want to put my ash has to get my blanket on my head the blanket has to go over the head Saltly it says saw ladies ladies, the bestest, most spupi, ashenalid. Salt, love it. Let me start off how most every listener tale teller does by sharing how much I love you guys in this podcast.

I love you too. As a true crime fan since DeWoom, I have listened to many different true crime podcasts. Yours is by far my favorite. I love your Woody Banner and how relatable you both are. I frequently belly laugh and my cubicle at my job as a social worker with kids, for kids with developmental disabilities.

Yes, you're another hero. Hero. This is just hero time. And confuse my workmates while listening to y'all. Keep, please keep making episodes and after haters. Yeah. Anyway, I'm writing to you from everyone's least favorite state in America and New Jersey. No. No. No.

It's not great while it's not terrible. And due to global warming, it's basically Florida now. So get at me, bro. You guys have the best real house vibes. There you go. My name is Kate. You could use my name, I ain't shy. And I live in a majestically, but mall ridden area, just an hour outside of New York City. I never go there, even though it's so close because I'm tired and I already put on sweats. Me too, Kate.

Side note would probably leave to see y'all do another live show. Might still wear sweats. Girl, wear sweatpants. Please do. I want to wear sweatpants for our next live show. If I see you at the next live show there, I will know, because you'll be wearing sweats. So wear your sweats. And we will be like,

Kate, with the pants. Kate, with the sweats. Down to brass tax. I'm writing to share you a long dry-nought saga that can be edited at your discretion about my spupi-s old-ass house in a relatively rural town in northern New Jersey. To preface, my house is an old farmland house, as in there's a horse buried somewhere on our property. Probably too, probably, yeah. It has been through many renovations, but there have been two remaining inner walls that have been left untouched since it was built. The inhabitants prior to my parents were a family with adult children with developmental disabilities.

Bear with me, I will try not to go too far into detail as my boyfriend says I often do to keep it pithy. I'm a dive in now. I've always been a quote-unquote sensitive person. Connecting as an infant with my dead grandfather frequently told my mom my birthday was his birthday before I knew what a birthday was among many other things. And have lived my whole life in a state of panic anxiety about that I'm being watched by a damn ghost. When I was about a wee last the age of five or six, I fucking loved all shit weird. Same. I could get my tiny little sticky hands on. Aren't all children's hands sticky for some reason? Yes. Yes. I can. It's syrup. I can. It's not getting your kids. It's always syrup. I loved Scooby-Doo,

obviously. Graduated to Alvin Schwartz's scary stories. Yes. That was my end to me. You just sent me an Alaina's life. That was literally my entrance into creepiness, which gave me all the nightmares, but I'm a glutton for punishment. Yes. Are you afraid of the dark? Yes. Watching Blair Witch project through the space between my middle and ring finger, as my hand was finally clasped over my eyes, still kind of a scary cap, but whatever, and watching virtually every episode of Law and Order SVU. Bottom line, I've always loved ghosties and goblins, and all things morbid, somewhat sad and gruesome.

You are literally speaking to ourselves. Yep, that's us. I started seeing shit in my house when I was about seven. Fuck it all began after a summer vacation to math is vineyard. Oh my god, I want to go to the vineyard now. The vineyard, till you find New England folk. Fuck yes. Love you girl. Where I consumed just about all the local ghost lore that was available to me. That wasn't good at sleeping alone ever, same. But was not made better with the multitude of ghost stories I read and heard. During walking ghost tours, which I also fuck and love, same.

My parents set up a cot in my sister's room to stop me from running into theirs when I was afraid. Oh. That sister Jen would sing me songs. My favorite was build me up buttercup and tell me stories until I fell asleep because she saw how anxious I was. What a good fucking silence. I know.

And it would always be. I'm on med I was. What a good fucking silence. I know, and would always be. I'm on meds now, thanks, mom and dad. Then one night, as I laid away in my cot, next to my sister's tall captain's bed, I saw something that was real fucking spoopy and weird. No, thank you. There was a large mirror hanging in the entryway to her room, reflecting the light in front of her

as I required the door to stay open, as I somehow thought that was more safe, dumbass. I was probably two, it was probably two a.m. No in the morning required because Am provides the necessary time of day distinction. Oh my God. Thanks Ash. I love you so much. Have I complained about that before? I think you have.

It bothers me too. Oh my God. It drives me fucking crazy. So you know, you're killing it all the way through. Wow. She's speaking to it directly into our sense. And I looked at that mirror resisting sleep with my anxious little baby brain. I saw clear as day the top half of a child's head with a Derby cat.

No. He was trans... No. No, you didn't. You did, but no. He was translucent to me, but traveling across the bottom of my mirror. Nope. My seven-year-old self nearly shat her bed and stayed still for whatever, like, forever,

thinking this little mother fucker was gonna walk over to my bed and, like, try to hang out. I didn't have a lot of friends at this time. See above, I was weirdo, but I certainly did fucking not need a dead one. I'm like, I don't know, I'm sure. But I certainly did fucking not need a dead one. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha We stayed with us the summer after, sleeping in our basement and being garbage people in general. The girl will call her crystal, immediately since something was in our home. I wouldn't know what, but she did burn some sage. I assume she did something with crystals because duh. And you some sort of red ink that she blotted on a paper plate left in my sister's room.

Things supposedly quieted down after that, although I was still just as spooked and nervous like a little Chihuahua. Oh! Fast forward 20 years to 2016. I had been cohabitating with my amazing boyfriend of nearly four years. He's still my man's, I'm a lucky little bitch. Stop, I'm obsessed. Let's just say his father, who is very kind and wonderful, and I had different political opinions. Oh. Have your opinions, I just hate those fucking hats, man. Ha ha. Yes, I love her so much.

I love her so much. She's so funny. I agree. Have your opinions, but I also hate those fucking hats. We tweet favorite like and share. I started staying in home more frequently in the comfort of my liberal and like-minded parents bosom. Oh, god, I love her.

Life was totally great. I could do my laundry whenever. I got to eat nice food I didn't pay for. Fox News wasn't blasting on the TV. Until one night when both of my sisters were home, and I asked about the ghosts I had assumed I had imagined, because I literally can convince myself of anything because anxiety.

My sisters looked to be anast if I really wanted to know what happened. I said, yes, of course, what the fuck, guys? If anybody asks you if you really want to know what happened, the answer is no. No, the answer is absolutely no. The answer is yes, but in the grand scheme of things, no, you don't need the answer. But we want to know.

We do, yeah, tell us. Jamie, the ever logical atheist, shared the following. On several occasions, my sister woke up to a woman standing at the front of her bed, not really watching her, but definitely confused as to why the fuck this child was in her home. She hadn't had too many other weird things happen. The occasional missing items, batteries recharging themselves after they were totally dead, etc. My sister Jen breaks out the big guns and I'm floored, pissed, scared, but sweating while I digest the following information.

My sister saw a bunch of shit too. A lot of it was along the same lines about my other sister saw. Random people at night who were not from this time period, etc. She shared that she had her first encounter in our basement when she was sitting alone in a heavy-ass armchair and was tilted far back from behind. No explanation, no reason, just ghost being ghosts. No thank you. Now ladies, hold on to your butts. Oh fuck. She then goes on to explain that you'd wake up in the middle of the night, look down at

my bed, and see shit swirling over and around my sleeping body, like hovering, moving, milky white, translucent shit. What? At this point, I am genuinely pissed off, which is not made better by the bottle of Pinot Noir. I've faced during this whole dress. So there's that. Can you be best friends?

Cool, guys. And now for the last bit, I promise, hold your, hold your booties, it gets worse. Maybe about a year or two ago, I am sleeping as soundly as a little lamb in the comfort of my bedroom. I wake up to this bitch in a bonnet leaning over me looking at me inches from my mother fucking dome piece. Nope! I don't pee.

Nope! I yell a pathetic... Oh! I bow down to the bed across my room. I ask that bitch kindly to get the fuck out, please, what in the actual fuck? I turned around and obviously that motherfucker is gone. Despite my scream, my parents absolutely did not wake up, further confirming that if anything bad ever happens in my house, I will likely just die. It's cool.

I told my parents who basically shrugged and said nothing. I still live at home at 27. Read above, I'm a social worker, and I am check your bank account at the checkout broke and sleep with a light on. I still don't sleep that well and have the weirdest fucking dreams, but that bitch in her bonnet has not been back since. That's all guys. Thanks for reading if you do.

As I'm typing this, I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to read this out loud and time it because that's just the kind of anal-retentive people pleasing person I am. Oh my God, you don't have to be that. Keep it weird ladies. But not so weird that you see Ghost Boys who is the only person who could potentially be your only friend or that swirly twirly ghost milk

is hovering above your sleepy bottom. That bitch in a bonnet decides to make your still breathing. Love you, bye. Wow. I mean, at least they were like nice. Ghosts that wanted to be like friends and make sure you were still breathing. Yeah, they were like hanging. Swirl some ghost milk over you.

Yeah, that part I don't even know what to say about. We had a similar experience. You did. I don't want to talk about it now because this isn't about me but. It's spooky. It's for a later date. It is. But holy shit.

Shit. Fucking love you. Wow. That whole email of you. I feel like my best friends have all been mad to us. Kate, Caitlin. I love Kate. Let's be best friends. Okay.

So this is my last one? Yes. Okay. The time my friends and I accidentally summon a demon or some shit listener tail. Okay. Okay. It happens.

Oh yeah, you know, if you like that sometimes. It does. Hey guys, my name's Heather and I love your show. I just discovered it recently and I've been, uh, bitch listened to it when I drive while I clean when I'm in the shower. Any chance they get really. I love your banter and humor and I feel like I practically know you both now. Oh my god, we're friends. No, we are. I really enjoy the listener episodes and it's inspired me to share one of my own weird as fuck experiences with you guys. I'm not a pro

writer, so hang on with me here, y'all. Everybody says that, and then you write the most ill-conquilling. And then you kill it, yeah. The story took place when I was 15 or 16 years old, so being almost 30 now, grandma, Moji, none of you were old. We're all old. No, it's been a long time, but I'll try to give as much detail as I can remember.

To start things off, I grew up in a tiny Midwestern shit stain of a town in the middle of a cornfield. It was so small, in fact, that we didn't have a mall a movie theater or even a grocery store without driving to the next town over Damn, that sucks Because of this the extracurricular activities young people had available to them We're pretty much limited to doing math getting pregnant or in the case of my friends and I dabbling in the occult apparently I was gonna say summoning demons very early. I know that makes us sound like kukunat people but we were bored as fuck and not exactly interested in either of those

other alternatives. Now we all dabbled in the occult a little bit when we were going there. I had a book of spells at like seven years old. I have one of my shelf right now so don't worry about it. Anyways at this time I had two friends we'll just them Sam and Kate for the story. I hope it's Kate from a lost email Yeah, they go through all friends We're girlfriend and boyfriend. Sam's grandpa had recently died Oh, it wasn't really uncommon for us all to walk around after school or go to Sam's grandparents House to hang out. We were all really interested in spooky shit and the paranormal in general So one day when their house was empty We decided to do it every teenager does when they have a large house at their Disposable nope at their disposal with no supervision have a say on yes you thought we were gonna go you thought we were going to throw up

Oh my She okay asprone if I she and me You thought we were going to say throw a party no think again. we were baby weirdos. See, that's what Ash would have done. He had enough. I would have had to say up at like 15 or 16, I'd be like, let's get it baby. I'm with you with the say up. I wish that I had done more fun things like say-onses.

I have a lot of memories that I don't remember that I don't actually remember. Anyways, back to the story. As a bunch of broke ass teenagers who lived in a cornfield, we didn't have an actual Ouija board. Good. So we just gathered up a bunch of Sam's teenagers who lived in a cornfield. We didn't have an actual Ouija board. Good. So we just gathered up a bunch of Sam's cramas candles and shit. We took everything down to the basement

because a fucking basement is exactly where you want to be when you may be encounter a whole ass ghost. Absolutely. And we arranged it all in a circle and lit the candles. We sat down on the floor with the candles around us, joined hands and started chinting Sam's crampous name and asking for him to join us. That's real, fucks.

Wow. Because Sam was a total fucking douchebag. He felt that a cool thing to do would be to break away from using his grandfather's name, oh god, and chanting Jack the Ripper. No, we did not. Yeah, don't do that. You don't want Jack the fucking- Yeah, do you really want him coming?

I don't even want to say it too many times. I know, damn. I'll be completely real with you guys as much as I want to go sit all the things paranormal to be real, I was mostly skeptical that this whole thing was going to work, like at all. But I shit you know, what happened next made me poop my whole entire soul out. As we, oh God.

As we were chanting the candles all went out at the same time. Yeah, that's when you leave. That's when you'd be like, I was kidding. Yeah, that's an insane. What is that thing? You can say like oliole oxen free. It's hide and seek all over again.

Obviously, this shut us the fuck up real quick. And in the silence, we could clearly hear footsteps, steps making their way downstairs. Nope, nope, nope, because we were in, we were in the now pitch, half placement pitch black basement. And those same stairs were the only escape route we had to muster up all the nope. and we were in the now pitch black basement. And those same stairs were the only escape route. We had to muster up all the nope we had in order to get the fuck out of there, piece emoji.

We all ran upstairs directly out the front door. We turned around and looked back at the house just in time to notice a shadow figure that would have been almost as tall as the ceiling, walk past the windows in front of the house. Fuck that. Nope. It was summer around late September, early October as tall as the ceiling walk past the windows in front of the house. Oh no. Fuck that. Nope.

It was summer around late September, early October, and despite the fact it was only 50 degrees outside, I didn't even bother getting my shoes. They belong to the demon now. It's fine. They belong to the demon now. They belong to the demon now. It's fine. We literally ran across town without coats or shoes and hung out at another friend's house

for a while, because we're pretty spiritual group of friends. He didn't actually seem skeptical about it. So that's cool, I guess. He's just like, oh, you summoned a demon? Come on, it is cool. Just come on, Chris. Yeah, we've all done it. If you guys think the craziest part,

I'll sign out. If any of my friends were like, I summoned a demon. I'd be like, you're dumb. Get the fuck out of my house. And I would slam the door in their face. Yeah, I feel like that sucks. That I just know what they tend to follow. So I have cookies baking by.

That's rough. Sorry about it. If you think the craziest part of this story is over, think the fuck again. Everyone parted ways of went home with their parents because teenagers on a school night. Hell yeah. I went home and went to bed.

I was shaken up and half an expect. And I, you're okay. She's fine. You got this. I was shaking up and half an expect- I- you're okay. She's fine. You got this. I was shaking up and half expecting this shadow to appear in my room in any second. At one point, some shit in my closet fell and I just about pooped my pants, but other than that nothing really happened to me. The craziest shit actually happened to my friend Kate. The next morning at school she was shook as fuck and immediately pulled out her phone. She opened her photos and brought up a picture in negative mode because this was like 15 years ago and flip phones were it back then.

Yes, she said she heard something thumping around in her living room in the middle of the night and put her phone on negative mode. Stuck her arm around the corner to snap a photo and sprinted to her room before locking the door after what she saw on the screen. You could clearly make out her living room that couch couch, the curtain, standing in front of the curtains was a black figure that was nearly as tall as the ceiling of her trailer. This big mother fucker looked like he was wearing a cloak with a hood on, but it had fucking wings, y'all. No!

The only way I could possibly describe this to you guys in any other way would be that it looked like the silhouette of the monster and Jeepers creators. Oh, that's literally what I picture. I don't like that. The second they describe this, you guys in any other way. It would be that it looked like the silhouette of the monster and Jeepers creepers. Oh, that's literally what I picture. I don't like that. The second they describe this, I was like, that is the guy from Jeepers creepers. I feel like our last listener episode

mentioned Jeepers creepers too. Did they? Yeah. It was fucked. The she locked the photo so that she could accidentally erase it. Anyone old enough to have a flip phone in the early 2000s, probably remembers that feature.

Yep, I used to call my apron photos. Not too long after we were at a birthday party or some shit when a bunch of people we went to school with and the subject of Ghost was brought up. Kate and I told a few people in our class the story and I told her to bring up the photo as proof. To both of our fucking surprise the shit was gone. I honestly, that's fine. Yeah. I'd be like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like, I do like,'d be like, I do like, you know what? Yeah. That's good on them. Thanks you guys for reading. Thank you guys so much for reading my story. I had a hard time deciding which one I wanted to send to you. So maybe I'll share some others in the future.

Totally do that. Please do because that was what was going on. This one's great. And you wrote it amazingly. Originally, I was going to talk about the Hauntedass Fuck House that my daughter and I lived in for a few months while she was a baby. But as I was typing it out one night, she was asleep in bed.

She started to cry out in her sleep, not a thing she does like ever. And it freaked me out so much that I said it, not to even use it. Oh, damn. That's terrifying. That's terrifying. I hope you guys enjoy this spooky,

but I'll be slightly less spooky tale. Thanks yet again for reading it. I love you both, and I hope you continue to keep it weird. We will. And you better keep it weird too, but not that weird. And don't summon any more demons.

Because you summoned enough The demon of Jack the Ripper or something that's scary as a well that shit you guys you guys are keeping it You you continue to slay the game you slay the game Lay the game so please continue We're gonna keep doing this forever and ever so keep sending it to us because We want to do it forever. It occurred to me that the podcast is older than two years. Oh our Podcast is approaching Toddler see. Oh my god. It's gonna start walking. Oh It's gonna wait from us eating solids now

It already has an Instagram, so follow it at Mormon podcast. It also has a Twitter follow that a Mormon podcast. Join the Facebook group, Mormon, call it a true crime podcast group. Right, it's a listener tale too. Mormon podcast at gmail.com

and subject line listener story. Yes, anybody, I've gotten a lot of messages on my personal Instagram lately which is fine but all listeners can be sent to more of a podcast at gmail.com. And we hope that you keep listening and we hope you keep it weird but not so weird that you summon a demon because somebody's grip a diet and that's so weird that I don't remember half of the stories that happen that like a bitch that you summon a demon because somebody's grip a died and that's a weird that I don't remember half of the stories that happened That like a bitch an abon it comes at to you

And that's a weird that you have to bite somebody's dick off But do bite some these dick off if they fuck with you not so weird that you time travel you time travel that one really fucked me I don't keep it that way because I was really fucked up about that and like maybe she was time traveling Maybe she was and that was a weird fucking glitch in the matrix and And definitely don't keep it so weird that you end up seeing a goat man on the wall because you fucked up if you're done seeing that. And that's real. Last thing, don't keep it so weird

that a guy with a chainsaw and half of a button and I am all in a spider web knocks you off your skateboard. Bye. Don't have a fleshy hole with a spider web tattoo over it. Yeah, if you keep it that weird, you've gotten too far. You have. Goodbye.

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