Morbid - Listener Tales 5

Episode Date: November 25, 2019

Tonight on another installment of Listener Tales, you guys continue to slay the game with your crazy lives. In this episode, we chat about whispering murderers, spooky gnomes, men in trees, food cooked by a killer and frog orgies. It's bonkers in here, guys.  Visit our sponsors for this episode! The Canvas People Now, as a special, very limited holiday offer, CanvasPeople.com is offering their popular 11 by 14 photo canvases for free. Just pay shipping and handling. This offer won’t last. Text MORBID to 64-000. Care/of For 50% off your first Care/of order, go to TakeCareOf.com and enter MORBID50 See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hey, Prime members, you can listen to morbid, early, and ad-free on Amazon music. Download the app today. You're listening to a morbid network podcast. Whether you're running errands on your daily commute, or even at home, you can enjoy all your audio entertainment in one app, the Audible app. As an Audible member, you can choose one title a month to keep from the entire catalog. This includes the latest bestsellers and new releases. Plus get full access to a growing selection of included audiobooks, audible originals,

and more. If you've been wanting to form good habits, break bad ones, and improve motivation, atomic habits written and narrated by James Clear is a great lesson. It'll reshape your mindset on progress and success by helping you develop strategies to transform your habits. New members can try audible free for 30 days. Visit audible.com slash wandery pod or text wandery pod to 500-500 to try audible for free for 30 days.

That's W-O-N-D-E-R-Y-P-O-D. Audible.com slash wandery pod or text wandery pod to 500-500 to try audible for free for 30 days. Angie has made it easier than ever to connect with skilled professionals to get all your home projects done well. Just bring them your project online, or with the Angie app, and answer a few questions. With Angie, you can book instantly at an upfront price, or request and compare quotes from multiple pros, so you can find the best price for your project.

So the next time you have a home project, just Angie that and start getting the most out of your home. Download the free Angie mobile app today or visit Angie.com. That's ANGi.com. Hey Weirdos, I'm Ash and I'm Elena and this is a listener episode. A. Listener. Episode. It's all about you, for you, by you. All about you. These stories are brought to you by you for you from you with you and about you. Sure are. Hey yo, I'm holding the microphone today and it feels fucking cool. It's stressing me out a little bit. Well, fuck you. Before we begin though, we have a little something to let you guys know about if you haven't heard. if you haven't heard bird is the word. And also the word is that we're going to the mother fucking Grammar Seat Theatre to play a live show

January 30th. It's going to be linear than a tidier. It is the Grammar Seat and NYC guys. This is the big time. We're big time. We're huge. We are not little tiny small. We are fucking mega. And by that, I mean, please buy tickets to the show because if you want us to come to other cities, which we want to, then we need to do, you know, pretty good sell in the show. So if you don't mind going and buying a ticket, we would love you forever. Do it. The link is in our Instagram bio and you can also find it on ticket master and live nation. If you just type in morbid, we're right there. And actually, weirdly enough, tickets are flying guys. So go and get them because they're going to be gone soon.

Which is weird because I'm trash, but you're super shiny, glamorous trash, like cold, shiny, hard, plastic trash. Another Mean Girls reference, we love it. You're welcome. I don't want to hold the microphone anymore because I feel like too much responsibility is on my shoulders. Can you take it? Yes, I can. So tonight is a listener tails episode, which is so much fun. We love doing these and guys. You are not disappointing sending these in. So we appreciate it. Keep sending them in and make sure that you put in the title listener stories. You're all doing amazing with that. It's making my life easier because I'm able to organize them all where we need to organize them. So keep doing it because these are awesome. So Elena and I just thought to the death over who got to go first.

And now she died. I'm gone. Just kidding. My first listeners tale is called Grampa apologizes for dying on a TSC parking lot when buying kitty litter. And that's why I had to read it to you. It says, hey weirdo's fellow crem- fellow true crem junkies and all around bad motherfucking bitches. Actually, no, it says bad muffle bitches. I just like can't not say muffle

again. I saw that it said muffle and I loved it. Muffle bitches. Muffle bitches. I love it. Mofa bitches. Mofa bitches. This is going to be like, Helena with the dead lady. I feel like typically when we read these were like slap happy. So it just, it always goes awry. It always happens that way that we do the listener tails when we are at our most slap happy. So sorry about it. Like, I am straight up fucked up right right now but not like actually just like so fucking crazy it's just we're tired that's what it is we're exhausted and it's gonna be a ride guys so strapping all right so grandpa's dead she says I hope all is well on this fine Friday or whatever

day you may choose to read this story it's Sunday's okay though. I have a tendency to make short stories long, so if you feel the need to speed it up, then you can definitely shorten it or whatever. Anywho, as most listeners of your show, I want to start out by saying how fucking legendary your podcast is. I always feel like a douchebag reading this. I know, but I appreciate everybody being so nice. That's like, you guys guys write such nice things in it makes us feel all warm and gooey inside Yeah, no, it makes me feel amazing, but I'm like let me read this thing of how great everyone thinks we are I know I feel the same way. I'm always like I'm sorry everybody All right, but she said not only does it does your content have me pissing my pants laughing

But after learning so much about these horrific yet interesting as shit crimes I feel as though I can pull my little puttering Nissan Rogue. I almost bought a Nissan Rogue, but I didn't write up to a crime scene until you who done did it, done did done it. I love her. Of course, I don't think I have the stomach nor chesticles, but a girl can dream.

On top of that, you guys are just so down to Earth and Humble, very relatable, so fucking funny. You make me look forward to my 6am drive to my job as an underpaid TA every day, just trying to finish my masters and slap some sharks. I'm a marine biology major doing my best, hashtag, save the oceans. And I love that. I also love slap some sharks. Don't slap them. But that's awesome that you're that fucking smart. What the fuck? And on top of all of this, you provide me some, well, my stomach just dropped to my asshole, uberspooks, boo, goosey bump, exploding butterflies in my intestines. What in the mother fuckity fuck did I just hear stories? And I just wanted

to thank you for that. Now here we go. Wow, thank you for that. I love her. I wanted to send, I wanted to send in this story after hearing the listeners, oh my god, I'm just going to fuck myself. You can just leave all that in so that people know about trash I am and that I can't read past a second grade level. She's getting, she says, fuck, I wanted to send in this story after hearing Millisner tale of Denver Wolf, the young vivacious girl from Colorado, who was taken too quickly from this world. Oh, when I cried on the fucking podcast, that was the night before my youngest babe came into the world, guys,

that holds a special place in my heart. That was a beautiful story. And Alina has a beautiful baby, so beauty. Beauty all around. That story had me blubbering like a fucking fat baby, watching Mufasa die in the Lion King for the first time. You should write novels, girl. Anyway, it really struck her chord in me

as I had somewhat similar experience with my grandpa. The best way to actually start this story is to first explain what TSC is. Oh my God, I'm so excited because I had no fucking clue. Oh good. Well, ain't a sad mean either. I don't know if you heard that because I'm holding the microphone. If you don't know, it is a let it is likely because you aren't from the Midwest where it is required to go to the local TSC once a week or rather your local tractor supply company. I grew up in a military family, which had me moving a lot as a kid. My parents settled us down in Ohio to have me closer, have me be closer to my family and grow up in a

quaint little suburban town. I truly love where I'm from and I think it's important to appreciate the places that built you. However, I do live in Florida now because that shit was fucking cold. The people I consider my true family are my parents, and then my mom's parents. My dad's parents passed away before I was born. Oh, I'm sorry. My grandpa, who we called Lou, was somewhat like a cat.

No, he wasn't stealthy by any means, but he definitely, he definitely used an abuse to nine lives. That's an amazing way of putting that. I love that. I mean, the mother fucker served in Vietnam had numerous strokes, plenty of heart attacks. He had diabetes. He had to get his toe-epitated due to an infection.

I swear he really did all he could to get the free food in the hospital. But he was one of my very best friends. Stop him already crying. Oh, that makes me feel all kinds of things. My grandpa is my BFF. Oh. He just doesn't know it. When I went off to college, I swore that I would bring both of my grandparents down

for one of my college volleyball games, but it just wasn't as easy for them to travel. Luckily, though, I know that after Lue died, he was in attendance at every single game. Now I am going to highlight the story of his death and a comical way to match the tear-joker that may follow. Don't make me cry on the podcast again, girlfriend. This is a damn roller coaster already. I'm ready for it. Okay, so, um, Lou had been in the hospital that weekend before with COPD issues, and on Sunday, the doctor sent him home with very specific instructions to not do anything, to stay in bed and to rest. Again, he told him to sit fucking still and watch some mash. Oh my god,

my grip on you. Yes, he does. Of course, that's Debra Nodassel. Refused to listen and on the Monday morning before he woke up at 7 a.m. He got in his car and drove to the local tractor supply company in Bucharest. I tried Ohio. The story I was told was that he was buying cat litter of all things grandpa You died while buying cat litter Oh, my whole capitals and when he walked out of the store he collapsed. Oh He died later that day in the hospital of a massive heart attack due to a 99% blockage and an artery that hit him Like a pile of wet bricks when carrying the litter to his car Now I love that man dearly and it was truly my first time dealing

with the death of a close family member. I recall thinking to the ground when my dad showed up to my dorm to tell me in person, because he is the fucking best out in the world and didn't want me to be alone. I'm crying. Oh, you have like an awesome family, man. You really do.

But now looking back when I tell this story, I start laughing because poor Lou doesn't even have a majestic death story to tell is dead friends and happened. While his friends died and old people's homes having sex or deciding to go bungee jumping for their 75th birthday then dying later because they choked at dinner. Lou just died trying to provide the cat babies with the dusty dust that covers their ship boxes so they can do dirty deed after eating birds or whatever. Oh, dude, you were always the best. I'm kidding. Oh my God. You guys fucking kill it with how you tell these stories, dude.

You guys are so funny, dude. So here comes the fucking crazy part or I think so. I remember him being so I remember being so damn upset with him for having for leaving this world without even saying goodbye. He wasn't an old grandpa and he had, he had survived nearly everything else. So when he died, I felt angry and of course very sad. I'm not a very religious person by any means nor have I been one to experience very mitt, very many weird abnormal or unexplainable occurrences in life.

However, Luma has to felt my wave of emotions up there because he sure as shit made up for it. I woke up one morning after four weeks of constant shit, like I mean total shit things happening. Not only did Ludae in there, but my neighbor of 11 years died in her house due to a blood clot in her brain following a routine surgery. Oh my gosh. My mom's young cousin died of a massive stroke and my college coach stripped me of my scholarship for actually no reason the day I got back from lose funeral. Fuck that. Oh god, seriously. Fuck that. I mean, guys, I was getting fucked by the reality of life left and right. He left and right here and my 18-year-old brain just didn't understand. So on the morning of one

of my finals, I woke up and walked to the bathroom and stopped abruptly and just started bawling. Oh, my dream had suddenly come back to me and I had to sit the fuck down and take some deep ass breaths to calm myself. In the dream I had been walking through campus with my head down on a very sunny and beautiful day. No one else was around. It was completely silent and I just remember looking up from my shoes to the left. My mom and grandma were standing there smiling at me with this look of ease, in acceptance, and I smiled and waved at them. They said nothing, just stood there like they were waiting for something. I started running toward them to say hello, and they suddenly looked at something over my right shoulder. I followed their gaze and saw loose standing there smiling and literally glowing. He looked

like the same Lou I knew but no longer in pain, no longer suffering and happy, and likely had all ten toes. I turned back to my mom and my grandma to scream at them and see if they saw him too, but they were gone. I walked slowly up to Lou and said, it's good to see you. He looked, he looked me up and down for a second and then proceeded to give me one of his tight hugs. Oh my god, I'm crying. I asked him why he was here and he said, I'm so sorry, Megan. I just wanted to succumb say goodbye before I go. I love you. Yep, you just ruined me, Megan. Thanks a lot, Megan. And after that, before I could say anything else, just as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone. I didn't feel him let go, nor did I let go. The moment just ended and the next thing I remembered was waking up and feeling more at peace. Oh

shit, I feel that I feel the little the little thing in your throat that you got when you cry. Yeah, that little lump sit there and your throat I felt it. Fuck. She did. Oh, Megan. I called my mom and she told me that he said goodbye to her too when he was laying unconscious in the hospital that day. She sounded like she was smiling through the phone, similar to the way she looked in the dream. I haven't seen or heard from Lucent again since this day and I still recall every second of that short exchange.

It truly makes you realize that the world works in some weird wicked ways. I know he's up there now playing... Ukraine? Ukraine? No. Ukraine? Ukraine? Yeah, I don't know. I know he's up there now playing Eucry Eucry Cool and poker like that. I was just like Eucaly I was like I'm not that stupid. I can read that word and poker with his old buddies waiting patiently for my sweet grama to get there

She is going to live till 109 those who she has a lot, so he has a lot of time to kill. This is the first time I've shared this story and I really hope you both find happiness and comedy in it. Oh, I did. While it isn't a scary story, nor true crime experience, it is definitely something. And I feel light, and I feel a light weight lifted from my heart for getting to finally share it. Thanks for being so awesome, you guys. Looking forward to the last part of the Jeffery D podcast next week. Stay as weird as you can. Your pal Meg. Meg. Meg. That was amazing. That was like that head of everything in it. Had a little bit of everything and we appreciate it. And even though that word was not ukulele, I think that he was doing that up there. He was doing ukulele and poker and anything.

And he had all ten of his toes. I bet he had eleven toes. He grew one. It was great. It made up for lost time. Sure did. Thanks Meg, that was beautiful. 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 dunes 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 ad-free on the Amazon Music or Wundery app. What makes a person a murderer?

Are they born to kill? Or are they made to kill? I'm Candice DeLong and on my podcast, Killer Psychie Daily, which you can find exclusively on Amazon Music. I share a quick 10-minute rundown every weekday on the motivations and behaviors of the criminal masterminds you read about in the news. I have decades of experience as a psychiatric nurse, FBI agent, and a criminal profiler. On Killer Psychie Daily, I'll give you my expert perspective on cases like the mysterious

New York City drugings, Raking Down Lori Vallow, aka Mommy Doomstays Motives, and what drove Caitlin Armstrong to murder. I'll also bring on expert guests who add even more insight into these criminal minds. I promise you won't regret adding these 10 minutes to your morning routine. Hey, Prime members, listen to the Amazon Music exclusive podcast Killer Psychie Daily in the Amazon Music app. Download the app today. So my tail is called Whispers of a Murderer by Melissa.

That sounds like a beautiful Daniel steel novel. I was just thinking that it sounds like a nice thriller novel and I love it. Hello. First, I just want to say I love you guys. We love you too. I just found your podcast last weekend and have already been your whole catalog.

Love Jesus. I know, that's intense. Thank you. I didn't even think of that. I was like, wait a second. We have over a hundred episodes. Damn, PSA just don't listen to the beginning once. Or listen to them, but like, just know that we were just, we didn't think anyone would listen to this in the beginning. So just kind of some slack. It was low-budge. Well, low-budge. But you know what?

We're gonna try to get those remastered at some point, so you know, they tuned for that. But thanks. So, let's see, love the mini-sodes, and was so excited to hear you started listening to stories as well. With that said, I have a paranormal true crime story for you. combo! So five years ago, I found this awesome apartment in this tiny country little town near me. Stone Ridge, New York. It was so cheap and absolutely gorgeous, so me and my ex-boyfriend immediately put money down on it

and moved in last weekend. Or excuse me. And moved in that weekend. It was next to a funeral home, but that didn't really bother me because my uncle is a mortician and has lived in an apartment above a funeral home since I was a little kid.

Sleepovers were interesting. Quote, always plenty of beds. That was his dad joke. Big old yikes. Kind of love that. Your uncle sounds red. I moved in September and little things started happening right away.

The lights in the bedroom would turn on sometimes at night, but I chalked it up to an electrical issue because the house was also pretty old. Spoiler alert, that is never an electrical issue. And no, it's not. I live in an old house, that shit doesn't happen. Then when I decorated for Halloween, I had these two cute, not creepy at all, scarecrow dolls. One boy and one girl set up one on each side of the French doors in the living room.

Every morning, I would wake up and the boy doll would be turned around facing the wall. That's some fucking Blair Witch shit. Oh no. That's no good. I chalked that up to the cats messing around with it. But I was, oh, it was always the boy doll. Never the girl. Ooh, I like that. Yeah, that spooky as fuck. Still, I didn't really think too much of it. We would also wake up in the middle of the night to loud banging on the front door, like cop knocks, and then hear dogs barking, but no one would be there and we didn't have dogs and neither did the upstairs neighbors. They were a young girl and her baby. Oh, I don't like this already. Yeah, I hate a lot of this. Hate it. Then on December 31st, I woke up in the early morning hours and could hear a man's voice clear as day talking right next to my ear.

Mm-hmm. Don't know. I hate it. What did you chalk that up to? I was thoroughly confused because my boyfriend worked really early hours, and I'd remembered waking up earlier to say goodbye to him. I was immediately petrified to say goodbye to him. I was immediately petrified and scared to roll over. I was also extremely freezing cold, so I laid there,

bundled up in the blankets, reverting back to my five-year-old logic, thinking if I just lay here, really still under these covers, whoever or whatever it is won't know I'm here, and they'll go away, slash, leave me me alone. Slash, never find me. Amazing. Love that. The voice continued and I could tell it was a much lower voice than my boyfriend had. And as I listened to what it was saying,

I became literally frozen in place. The voice was a man talking about how he just couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't, oh, I literally just got chills. He couldn't let her live. He didn't want to live without her. He kept repeating he had to kill her. He had to kill her. My whole entire body just chilled. I'm not kidding. I am literally goose bumping up my back right now. I would have gotten the fuck up out of that house ran out the front door screaming and never returned. The voice didn't seem like it was talking to me.

It was like I was listening to in on a man talking to himself. After a minute or two, I finally got the courage to roll over. You have more courage in your entire body than I have in my entire universe. Same. Um, fully expecting to see a man standing there and getting ready to run for my life, but when I rolled over, there was no one there. I quickly jumped out of bed and searched the house. It was an open floor plan so I could see every room from my bedroom doorway and there was no one around. I grabbed closed

for work and got the fuck out of there. I drove to my mom's, got dressed for work and then went to work early to be around people because I was freaking out. I started telling my coworker about what had just happened and she said, holy shit Melissa, that was Cotto. I was super confused or Cotto, I don't know, COTTO, Cotto. That was Cotto. I was super confused and was like, who the fuck is Cotto? She's like, well, I didn't wanna tell you about it

because you were so excited about your apartment, but Google your address. Oh, no. Is she your friend? PSA to all future coworkers, family friends. If you know something fucked up happen somewhere, fucking tell the person so they don't live there. So I googled and get this. On December 31st, 2009, yep, same fucking day, but five years earlier, William Cotto, a New York State trooper, shot his estranged wife, is all Cotto in the bedroom of their home, aka my bedroom at the time. Ha! Hate it. He had just been released on bail earlier that day as he had been arrested on charges

of unlawful imprisonment, harassment, and threatening her life. He posted bail after an order of protection was issued and immediately went to her home and killed her while their 24-year-old daughter slept in the apartment upstairs. After he shot her, he walked down the road to the local gas station and shot himself in front of one of the gas pumps. Neighbors were called hearing numerous heated arguments. Cops were frequently called to the home in the middle of the night. That must be the cop-knocks.

Yes. And the couple owned a bunch of dogs that would bark constantly in the middle of the night. I spent the rest of my work day googling every new story that covered this and everything started to make sense. The lights coming on in the middle of the night, the cop knocks, the dogs barking, the scary fucking horrible voice. I didn't want to go back to the apartment, but I was also in a one-year lease. Oh, and it was literally $750 on-clusive for a large two-bedroom apartment that would normally be a minimum of 1,600 in New York.

So every time I hear a story about a creepy-ass house and think, why the hell did these people stay? I think what the fuck was I thinking? And Welp, that's what I was thinking. That's what being poor because you have a master's degree and nothing to show for it, but 100 K and school loans does to you, F my life. I feel you so hard on that. I

thankfully never heard the voice again, but also vowed I would get the fuck out of there before December 31st rolled around again. And also burned a lot of fucking sage. The lights, dogs, cop knocks continued at least once a week until we moved out the following September. But sickly we just got used to those. Keep it weird, Melissa. Holy shit, Melissa. That was a wild fucking ride. Dad gave me so many goosebumps just thinking about hearing some fucked up dude that's not there, like talking to himself about like I had to do it. I had to kill her. I had to do it. Like, no, no, I would know right the fuck out of there, but I feel you when you're po, you po, and you gotta do what you gotta do. I feel you on the school on's. I'm just fucked up,

I'm terrified. I'm literally Google every address before I move in somewhere. My next one is called Monster Smell Like Matches. Do they? Well, let's find out. Hey, ladies, I stumbled upon your podcast after listening to a couple of other true crime podcasts, and I'm now obsessed, and I have got my 18-year-old to listen as well. It's become a family moment for us. I love that. I love when family's listen.

I do too. In fact, we met somebody at the live show last week. I believe her name is Bailey, so hi, Bailey. And her mom was Lisa. Yes, Lisa. And she was like, thanks for making me the cool mom. And we listened together. And it made my heart sing. So love you, Lisa and Bailey. Lisa and Bailey, you guys are the rituals. I'm just going to get right down to it because I can ramble and get sidetracked. Really easy. Lots of squirrels running around up top. That's a beautiful way to describe that.

Anyway, when I was a kid, I lived with my mom and dad who were divorced when I was five. Now I'm not entirely sure if they were still married when my aunt came to live with us or if she moved in afterwards. Nonetheless, she lived with us for a time. Anyway, I shared a room with my brother and we had a walk-in closet that I swear were the fucking gates to hell. My father was an over-the-road truck driver and would bring home the most random ass shit. And this one time he brought home a picture of a clown painted on velvet, which he should have burned

immediately is what I said. Why did he do that though? Rude gift, dad. Rude gift. This fucking clown with his silver teeth, green hat, ruffle ring around his neck with orange fire hair would follow us with his eyes. If you went left, his eyes followed your happy ass loves. If you went right, his eyes were there too. This picture hung on our bedroom while keeping watch over our terrified asses nightly until we had the bright idea to take it down and put it in the closet.

Not a smart idea, not even a little. I believed that picture summoned every demon banished to hell after they put it in the closet. Not a smart idea, not even a little. I believed that picture summoned every demon banished to hell after they had out in that closet. I would shut the door and by the time I got back into bed it would unlatch and open. I swear I could hear that fucking thing laugh, terrified. I would shut that door and return to my bed just to have it open every damn time. I told my aunt this story and how it smelled funny when the door would open and she brushed it off as an overactive imagination. every damn time. I told my aunt this story and how it smelled funny when the door would open and she brushed it off

as an overactive imagination. Fuck that, I know what I saw. This kept on for quite a while and I stopped telling my story because no one believed me until my aunt let a match to light her cigarette and I said, that's the smell. That's what monster smell like. I have been so fucked up.

Can you imagine your kid saying that? No, because I just picture what if your kid saying that to me and I'd be like, well, you have to get you imagine your kid saying that? Because I just picture what if your kid saying that to me and I'd be like, well, you have to get rid of your kid now. Yeah, I'd be like, that's the end of that. Now, my aunt had, no, I aunt turned the palest shade I've ever seen a person turn and she had an odd look on her face, which confirmed that she finally believed me. She stayed in that room with me in my bed for the longest time and she would listen to the alarm clock radio. It was the 80s.

One night I woke to the smell of monsters and that fucking clown laughing staring at me from the wall. Yes, they hung that freaky thing back up. As the song put it on the ritz plate in the background. To this day, I am terrified of creepy ass clowns and I can't listen to that song without smelling matches and hearing that thing laugh. Keep it weird and keep the closet door locked by Jail. Oh fuck.

I now I'm all thinking of putting on the ritz in some creepy-ass clown photo and I can't. I'm not into it. Oh, I keep thinking of putting on the ritz. That's a creepy song too. That song has always creeped me out. Yeah, and you put it with a clown. It's like, no, no, thank you. So my next story is the man on the stairs

and the man on the tree. No, no, no, no, no, nobody, no, no. Yeah, I'm already noping the hell out of here. Hi, Ashina Lena. Hi. I wanted to start this off by saying, I love this show so much. I recently found your show through my recommendations

on Spotify and loved your banter and y'all's great ability to tell these stories. Thank you so much. I will admit though, your recent mini about the school bus kidnapping of 1976 had me full unsobbing on my way back from a school field trip to a prison, but I'll get through the basics. Apparently everybody, that like fucked everyone up. It was a fucked up one. I'm really glad I could do that for all of you. By the way, this is from Liliana, which I love your name. My name is Lily. Oh, okay. You can use my name. She says I'm 21 from Houston, Texas. I was born and raised here in the stories I'm going to tell you about our long and a doozy, and then she had the green sick face emoji. So hold on to your butts.

Granted I was young when these events took place and it was all happening to my older siblings and step siblings. We lived in the city of Pasadena, Texas. I want to say I was around the age of four to six. I have not a single clue. My memories from 11 years old and younger have been erased. But we lived in this two-story house that my father currently lives in, absolutely disgusting. The house, not my dad.

So my sister and brother are 12 and nine years older than me, and they experienced the most in the house. My sister and brother took the only two rooms upstairs. My brother's room was smaller and had a small door in the middle of one of the walls. I hate that already. That we had no clue what it led to, nor did we desire to know. Well, one day, we all went out and when we came back home, my brother ran up to his room and called for my mom almost immediately. My mom and sister were absolutely shocked to find his room covered from ceiling to floor in blice. Oh, that's like Amity Velhor, and that's never good.

No, that's never good. That's like demon shit. And this was not the only time this happened. The second time it happened, it was fire ants, and they were never able to find the source and know it was not the little door on the wall either. And this is only the start. My dad was not the kindest man in the world, but he's better now. He would get upset with my older siblings for running around at night.

He would hear them running around because their rooms were directly above my parents room at the time. My siblings tried everything they could to convince him that it wasn't them, but he wasn't having it. My dad is the biggest skeptic to ghost in all that shit. You know how dads are. Well, it wasn't the end of their experiences. My sister got the shitty end of their experiences. My sister got the shitty end of the stick with this, with this entire experience. My sister's room had a big ass window in the middle of one of her walls, and I'm pretty sure it was

what caused her, our fear of windows. Well, there was one night that she was tossing and turning, and my sister is one of those people that just, that just knows capital K when something is off. So one night she was in bed asleep when she got this weird feeling that someone was watching her through the window because apparently my parents didn't know what blinds were in the grand year of 2004 and left her fucking window open the entire time.

Jesus. Well, she said she turned over and saw a fucking man sitting on the tree outside her window and that bitch was tall enough to where you could see the top of the tree from her room. And she saw a man sitting on the tree just watching her. She said she felt like she was frozen in place, but she was able to close her eyes and turn back over, but when she turned back around to see if he was still there, he was gone. I hate this. I hate this so much. Was he a real man? I don't know.

And like I said, my sister got the shitty end of the stick well in the house. She always told my parents that she heard people whispering her name at night, like directly into her ear. Do not know how she didn't book it out of the house. Well, one night she was sick of these ghosts fucking with her sleep and decided to get up and follow the voice, which is some brave ass shit that Latinos do not do. And when she got to the stairs, I shit you not. This girl saw an old man rocking back and forth on her stairs. Oh, I hate it. He was rocking back and forth on the stairs. Sure was. He was a little old man wearing a red flannel

and she said she was not able to move, like frozen as fuck on those stairs. She said when she was finally able to move, she booked it back to her room. And after that night, she told my mom, a believer of ghosts, you know, like a normal person. And she was able to get the house blessed, and thankfully nothing else happened in the house until we moved out.

A couple of years passed and my parents are no longer together, but my dad makes this dumbass decision to move back into that house with his new wife and her kids. While my older step-sister is the same as my sister, and just knows when things are off. So one night, she said she was on the phone with a friend when she fell asleep well on the phone. Her friend stayed on the line, but eventually hung up. The next day, her friend called her back and asked her if around 3am, her mom or my dad had been calling her name. Because her friend heard someone whispering her name into the fucking phone.

I'm not okay. So she did the reasonable thing and asked my dad and her mom and they both denied calling her name. So the next night she put her phone to record all night and I shit you not around 3am again. She heard her name being whispered into the phone. I hate this. But when she went to let her mom listen to it, the clip disappeared from her phone. After the situation, her mom

got the house blast and whatnot, but I still do not trust being in that house's living room for longer than five minutes alone, which I want to say is why my dad and stepmom decided to move the living room to where the dining room tables should be. So yeah, long story short, fucking book it when you hear people whispering your fucking name. Anyways, thank you for taking the time to read my bat shit and sane story. I love the show and keep it weird. Love Lily.

Holy shit, Lily. Lily, you're done fucked me right up. That is terrifying. It made me think of the sixth sense when he comes out of his room and it's just like a shit ton of ghosts everywhere. Like it's just one in the kitchen and one in the hallway and it's like, ooh! That movie fucked me up when I was little.

I literally don't pee in the middle of the night because of that movie. I hold my pee. I feel you, I'm with you on that. Oh, Lily, thanks for that. Wow, that was that was crazy. My next one is called murderers make good holiday sauce. Listen or story. They do I bet. Hey, weirdos, I have a story for y'all. I started culinary school in January of 2016 and Boulder, Colorado.

Dude, I fucking love Colorado. The people I was in class with were mostly normal people doing normal shit. A few weeks into school, we had a new guy. His name was Adam, but his this buttonugget refused to go by Adam. It would only respond to Sheamus. He thought he was the long lost MacManus brother from the movie The Bundox Saints, complete with the matching Veritas and Aquitas. Is that how he's about? Like Kitas. Like Kitas tattoos, as well as some other douchebaggery who constantly smelled like body odor and looks like he lived in a dumpster. Hey, by the way, Bunduk Saints is like one of my favorite movies ever.

When I found this one, I was like, Alina, we have to read this because that's your favorite movie. I love it. Instantly, the whole class hated him. Mind you, this was, this is a class of adults ranging in from their mid 20s to 50s So it's not like it was high school anyways This knob goblin piece of dick cheese thought he was got to give to the human race God knob goblin piece of dick cheese. That's awesome living. That's how I'm gonna refer to everybody now that I hate anything

You could do he could do better one day we were working in teens and lucky me. I was paired with this guy. I was at a range. I was at the range making Barry reduction or something else delicious when he walked up and took the pan out of my damn hand and shoot me away. Oh, I would have hit him over the head with the pan. Yeah, for sure. Like Rapunzel style. Hell yeah. I literally just stood there completely shocked. I decided from that moment on that this guy was complete yeah. I literally just stood there completely shocked. I decided from that moment on that this guy was complete garbage and I wanted nothing to do with him. Unfortunately, at the end of every class,

we had to sample everyone's dishes. And this day, he made crepes toast with hollandaise sauce, which I will always remember eating. Oh God. Oh. One night, a few months later, I went out drinking with some of my friends from class and Shamus was there with some of his roommates

who were in a different culinary class. Anyway, we all learned he had a girlfriend and a new baby. We were shocked. Like who the fuck would procreate with a man that looked and smelled like dirty hair that's been plugged directly from a shit-stained butt crack. Fucking killed me right there. But that's either your door there. I'm fucking killed me right there. But that's either your door there After after that this guy disappeared into thin air fast forward to October 2016 and we're graduating with still no sign of this guy Then February rolls around in a missing person's case is all over TV a miss a woman named Ashley Mead and her one-year-old daughter had been missing Oh, no for a few days and the

Twatt lawfuls pictures shows up on the screen because he's wanted in connection with their disappearance. The only part of Ashley meets body that was ever recovered was her torso that was found in a dumpster in Oklahoma. He murdered and dismembered her and scattered her body parts in multiple states before being caught in Oklahoma. Luckily, his one month old daughter was untouched. Oh, thank God. He was sentenced in April of 2018 to life plus 12 years. Now to this day, I remember the time I ate holiday sauce

that was made by a murderer and I get the Hebe Gb's. Other weird connections I have to murders and missing persons. I attended the Stanley Lake High School with Austin SIG, fucking monster. I attended high school with Eric Pratt who literally walked out his front door one night and disappeared. I attended high school with Eric Pratt, who literally walked out his friend door one night and disappeared. I attended high school with this ass hat

who murdered an elderly man and set the body on fire for drug money. I worked with the mother of Shannon Watts when she was the salon manager of the smart style inside the Walmart in Lafayette, Colorado. I didn't know her well, but occasionally we would take some smoke bricks together. My mother was friends with Heidi Rose McWire, who was found dead

along the infamous Riverdale Road, here in Colorado in the 1980s, and the murder remains unsolved. My mother was also friends with Helen Hernandez in her high school years, who was found strangled in Pueblo, Colorado in the 1980s in the back, uh, back you light, Mesaa apparently was there was where they found a lot of bodies. It's now suspected that she was a victim of a serial killer named Jeffrey Newsom, but nothing was ever proven that I know of. My husband went to high school with test damn Lafayette Colorado who killed her mother and drove around with her body for a month. with her body for a month. One of her friends, Jared Guy, was dating someone I went to high school with at the time. He helped hide the body. There were rumors that when he attended our high school, Sadie Hawkins danced that month. The body was in the trunk in our parking lot. What the actual fuck?

You. My sister dated this disgusting animal, Josh Kane, who murdered his beautiful girlfriend last year. The victim's mother used to work at the Walmart. I worked at a bright and bright in Colorado at the time, and we donated a lot of food and made a beautiful cake for her memorial service. Didn't realize all the weird connections until my- It didn't realize all the weird connections into- in my life what the fuck. Until I sat down to write this,

hopefully some of these stories peak y'alls interest. Keep it weird bitches. Katie from Colorado. Katie, what is happening to you? Katie, you need to say Jadam Badi. Like, something's going on, Katie. That's a lot of connections to weird shit. One might say too many. Damn, Katie. Also, you guys are killing it with how you're telling these stories. You killed me. You slay me. Slay all day, honey. Do it. So this one I felt like I had to do.

I just had to. Oh, and you know what? Before I get into this one, I'm just going to tell a quick, quick, quick side story because of the Bundak Saints thing. I just think it's funny. I love this story. So John hates the Bundak Saints. He thinks it's a stupid movie.

I love the Bundak Saints. It was it's a stupid movie. I love the Boondocks Saints. It was like one of my favorite movies when we met. Before we ever met or knew each other existed, I attended a Boondocks Saints event at a college nearby. And it was like the director and some of Norman Rites, who's in the Walking Dead now, he was in Boondocks Saints. They were there, they were taking pictures and all that good stuff. I was waiting in line to do this. John was working at the newspaper at the time because he was a newspaper guy. And he walked by the line. Now we had we never met. We didn't know each other at this point. He walked by the line. And he said he said to himself, what losers? And then kept walking into this day,

I'm always like, you walked by your future wife and mother of your children and said, what losers? And we had no idea. That's my favorite story ever. So that's our love story. So yeah, this next story I had to do because it's titled, My Dad Helped Exonerate Ted Bundy, which I'm like what now? And this is by Gem, which that's a great name.

Hi, Weirdos. I'm relatively new to your podcast. Well, welcome, but I've been devouring it quickly during the vast quantities of driving I do for work as a dog walker going between clients homes. You've really made my spoopy season awesome, so thanks for your brilliant blending of hilarity and facts, and congrats on Baby Morbid. Thanks so much for all of that. I've always been fascinated with true crime and mysteries, and probably part of that is due to growing up hearing

this story, or at least a very PG version of it. I'm going to be putting a few key details in brackets if you would please keep those off the air as the asshole involved in this case is still alive to my knowledge. And if he ever escapes from prison, my dad would be very much not like to be his next victim. Also, she gave me a quick update to this and he died in prison, so we're good, but I'm still not going to say the parts that she put in brackets just in case. At some point, I'll have to write to you again about how to all the spooky shit in my family because there is a lot. But I figured this story was one you may not have heard updates on since it didn't get

mentioned in your Bundy episodes. I love hearing new Bundy shit. If the case interests you, I think it would make a great mini morbid, as it doesn't seem like it's gotten much press. Trigger warning, like anything related to Bundy, it's a rough one involves the death of teenage girls. So get ready. To get down to business,

and now I have Mulan stuck in my head. Let's get down to business. As she still loves that shit. The Huns. They give us daughters. When we asked for sons. Well, I had to. She did. She had to. So to get down to business on November 25th, 1973, my dad was working at a truck stop south of Olympia, Olympia, Washington while finishing college. He knew the family who owned the truck stop, and when the son of the family who also worked there, William Bill caused in junior, aged 26.

Pulled up in his pickup truck that night, he told my dad and another employee that he'd hit a deer and needed to hose the hose to wash off the blood already. I'm like, nope, nope. Sir, I don't believe you. Don't believe you. This was entirely believable because that area is heavily

forested and chock full of fucking deer, none of whom seemed to have any idea that cars are murder machines. Bless. What was less believable was the fact that good old Bill had blood stains on his clothing, and most of the blood seemed to be in the bed of his pickup truck. Oh, that's not good. That doesn't add up. You know, he reversed into the deer.

And then he got out and he just laid his body on top of the deer and smeared it around a bit. He was sobbing. Seems legit. My dad and his coworker helped Bill wash all that evidence right down the drain, something that haunted my very tender-hearted father for years. A few hours later, Bill's entire pickup truck

mysteriously caught fire and was damaged so much that nothing probably would have been left, even if they hadn't washed a cleaned, but you never know. The two co-workers let police know about this at some point. I'm not sure if they reported it right then and there, or if they told investigators a few months later. But either way, they both went on record at the time as to the existence of blood all over him and his truck. On December 6, the body of a 15-year-old Kathy Devine was found in the park just a few miles away when I played in as a kid. Ha-ha-ha.

Trigger warning, she had been strangled, sodomized, and her throat was slit. She had most likely been there since the night of her death. Kathy had been hitchhiking because it was the 70s, and that's just what you did, and she was either running away or going to visit a friend. I've seen conflicting reports. Kathy was last seen getting into a pickup truck with a man. She left a note for her mom saying she'd be back and not to worry, obviously she never came home. Detectives on the case managed to put together enough information to look bill up and discovered

he had raped and murdered a girl in Maryland in 1967 and had pled in sanity, which got him locked up just long enough to convince them he was, quote, suddenly sane and he was released in early 73. I haven't been able to track down more info about this murder as there is a William caused in murder house in Maryland where four people were murdered in the 1800s. Oh, that sounds interesting. And so all the search results are for that. He moved back to Washington and married and soon had a baby girl. No one in Washington had any idea of his murdery background. I get the feeling his dad who he was living with at first

and who owned the truck stop had a very boys will be boys mentality about the whole thing. In May of the next year, a 14 year old girl named Brenda Joy Baker disappeared also well hitchhiking. Her body was found a month later in yet another park I played in and camped at as a child. I've also spent a lot of time at the lake featured in your soap cadaver episode. So yeah, my childhood was in retrospect, even more spooky than I knew at the time, which was pretty weird to start with. That's amazing. Her throat had also been slit, but the poor baby had been in the woods too long to know if more had been done to her to or collect any DNA evidence. Many involved in the case felt like the two

murders were definitely connected, but without evidence there wasn't much they could do. However, they did recover DNA from Kathy's body and they kept it, knowing they didn't have the means to really test it properly yet. In late 1975, Bill Causton was arrested for the horrible rape of a young girl. There were rumors of him molesting another other girls as well, but I don't know much more facts about the case other than that he was sentenced in 1976 to 48 years in prison, and his poor wife found out about the earlier murder and conviction at the time. Bundi, obviously on everyone's mind at the time, was a suspect, I believe, in both deaths.

And I think Kathy is mentioned in the book written about him that you discussed in your Bundy Eps. In fact, Kathy's father assumed for 28 years that Bundy had been her killer, but police never stated to Kathy's family that they thought it was Ted because while it was a possibility, the head detectives really liked Bill for the deed. In 1986, they got a warrant to take blood, hair, and saliva from Bill, who was very much still in prison because they were still all afraid that he would get paroled at some point since he had before, but they

lose their chance to convict him in Kathy's death. I've heard and read that it was very much not an ideal prisoner. In twice when they had him in pre-release housing, he got shoved back in jail for being a general ass hat. So the detective spheres weren't that wild at all. At some point in the 90s, they wanted to test the DNA and were able to see that it was likely a match. But they were worried about destroying the evidence and waited a bit longer to run a full

test. While the case was cold, it was never actually closed. In fact, it's the oldest solved case in Washington State history. Finally, in 2001, they knew the technology was such that they could test it. It was shocking, I know, a match for William Causton, Jr. The police and I think an FBI agent,

it was a whole big fucking deal, called my dad in for questioning again, just to clarify the details of his original report. They had him on the DNA alone, but wanted to make sure that they had their ducks in a row. In 2002, he was sentenced to life in prison as he couldn't be given the death penalty to how the laws were set up in 73. As far as I know, the bastard is still alive. Spoiler alert, he's not. She updated me. The javvirt levels of dedication by the head detectives involved meant that Kathy's family finally knows the truth.

And Ted Bundy, may he rest in hell, ironically was cleared of at least one murder. Also his ex-wife and daughter were able to breathe a sigh of relief knowing he's locked up for good. I'm including links to the sites I verified information from as my parents were both a little fuzzy on details outside of my dad's testimony. Hope you find this as well as I do, keeping weird and awesome and never stop your banter. Your spoo-poly gem. Holy shit. Damn that was fucking wild. I was like on the edge of my seat but I'm not sitting in a seat. We're on the flow. Sitting on a flow?

That's insane that your dad literally cleared Ted Bundy of one murder. Go dad. I mean, wow, that's intense. This one is called Listener Tales. A demon chased me out of my house, question mark, question mark. It's very long, so I have it spread across.

So, yeah, let's do it. It says, hello, Ashina Lena it spread across. So, um, yeah. Let's do it. It says, hello, Ashina. You guys are like my spooky internet moms, and I love the podcast. Brace for a paranormal adventure. I used to live in a crummy house with my crummy mom until she moved in with her. Can you guess it? Crummy boyfriend.

Girl, I already love you. Same sister. This just left me and my cat living alone in the house and that house from then on. At first I thought my mom leaving would make would make living there less crummy. It's a long story and it did for a while but then shit started to slowly get but then shit started to slowly but steadily get weirder and weirder and not for the good kind of weird. It all started with this old Christmas gnome decoration that my mom failed to pack away before she left that house. That fucking gnome. For some background information, my mom was an avid piano teacher and she taught lessons at our house. As a result, I grew up with headphones super glued to my ears at all time while I tried to block out the seemingly never-ending noise of all the neighborhood kids

bumbling through the hot-crossed buns. That's funny. Not sure my ears will ever heal, but anyways, back to the gnome. This gnome sat on the piano we had in the living room. It was always in the same spot on the left side of the piano. The first time of suspicious activity happened after I got home from nursing school one day. I opened the friend door which connected immediately to the living room where the piano was. The moment I walked in I was greeted by none other than that gnome, that fucking gnome. I will attach a picture of the venom itself at the end of the story, so stay tuned. Except the gnome was not in its usual spot.

Instead, it was on the floor sitting in front of the piano. Nope, already nope. At first, I dismissed the strange event because I figured my cat could have knocked the thing over, but looking back, the gnome wasn't fallen over. In fact, it wasn't anywhere near, it wasn't anywhere near being fallen over. It was far away from its original position, unless my cat learned how to professionally put gnomes overnight. Also, the gnome wasn't fallen over on its side. It was sitting straight up like it had been placed there with intent. But again, at the time, I just dismissed this occurrence as a random happening. This would begin to happen more frequently. I had never moved to the gnome back to its

original spot on the piano, because I was not about to go messing with the supernatural at any way, shape or form. Superbly fuck that. I'm going to start saying that. I'm supremely fuck that. Fuck that supremely. The next day, I came down stairs to get a snack and the thing was still in the spot on the floor. It had moved to the day before. But instead of facing the door, as it had been yesterday, it was now fully turned around 180 degrees facing the other corner of the room.

This is when I started to think that something might be up. After the incident, I finally asked my mom if she had been home in the last two days that all the spooky shit was happening. She said no. I kept pressing her, but she was positive she had been home in the last two days that all the spooky shit was happening. She said no. I kept pressing her, but she was positive she had not been over to her old house. No one else had the keys to our house, so I began to wonder. Two things to keep in mind as I go on. One, this was not some elf on the shelf type of shit.

This was some weird antique gnome doll ghoul of some sort. Two, I was alone in the house, just me and my elderly cat. No one else had been there no one else had keys the no would continue to suspiciously suspiciously move on its own over the course of the next month I was a busy gall at the time so I just that kind of ignored it and accepted that I must have a ghostly friend in the house I didn't really know what was going on but I was too scared to actually and seriously consider the thought other than as a joke. I would soon realize that whatever was in my house was not friendly. Oh god.

After about a month of this happening, the supernatural activity in the house began to increase in frequency and intensity. I remember being upstairs in my room doing homework when I would hear what sounded like chairs being dragged across the wooden floor. I was confused as again I lived alone, but I called out to my mom anyway on the off chance that she had come over in the middle of the night for some reason. No answer. Just bone-chilling silence. Oh God. I was too afraid to leave my room and definitely too afraid to go check out whatever chaos was happening downstairs. I then texted my mom asking if she was here and she replied, no. My brain instantly became that seed and spongebob where his brain cells just can't deal and self-destruct.

I've referenced that before. I was too scared to go downstairs the rest of the night, but when I went downstairs the next morning, my worst fear was soon realized. All of the chairs from the dining room table were moved at least two feet away from the table in every direction. Oh my god. My stomach dropped so hard that I'm half-sert and it must have fallen out. This was alarming yes, but I had no time to dwell on this at the moment, as I was far too late for school and had to eat the fuck out of there. I love you. Over the next couple of weeks or so,

I would hear what sounded like the chairs moving just as they did before, although not every time that I came downstairs in the morning where the chairs actually moved, or at least were moved back to where they were to begin with. This would only happen at night around, after eight, excuse me, this would only happen at night after around 8 p.m. That's really fucking early for creepy shit to happen.

I know creepy stuff normally happens around 3 a.m. Thank you, the witching hour, but I guess the ghost was an early riser, fuck a fine oap. Whatever the reason I quickly. But I guess the ghost was an early riser. Fuck a fine o. Whatever the reason I quickly learned that I needed to eat dinner and make sure I had everything I needed in my room so that I didn't have to go downstairs after that 8pm mark. I didn't want to be caught in that crossfire. Around this time is when the house started to become encompassed by an overwhelming chill like it was surrounded by a force field of darkness.

Oh good. Every movement I made felt like it was being closely watched and analyzed. Why the fuck did you stay there? Go for it. Seriously get the fuck out of there girl. Leave. I felt the indistinguishable feeling of something watching me whenever I went and whatever I did in that house. It felt like my goosebumps never went away. My heart raised. I don't know if you guys ever had that feeling before, but it's no bueno. Remember that it was just me and my cat in the house? Well, I wasn't the only one out of the two of us that was disturbed by whatever presence had taken over the house. One terrible day, I was simply minding my own business when I was overcome by a chill. Not even two seconds later, did I see my cat sprint the fuck upstairs, practically Naruto running. I'd like to add that my cat is an elderly 18 year old

deaf and has walked with a limp for years. Sprinting was not something that was in her vocabulary nor in her wheelhouse. But nonetheless that raggedy ass cat sprinted up the stairs. I can't I love it. Spreaded it up this year. I'm laughing so hard like her life depended on it. When she got to the top of the stairs, she turned around to face the basement stairwell and hissed at the air at nothing, at something who was I don't know. This was just confirmed more of what, excuse me, this just confirmed more of what I had been seeing and also managed

to freak me out even more if it was even possible at this point. One particularly treacherous day, I went downstairs to get some morning motivation or morning motivation juice aka coffee where I saw the gnome chilling in its spot facing the corner because remember I'm not bold enough to move that thing. I was in the kitchen for maybe 10 minutes total. As I leave to go back upstairs, I noticed something that puts a black hole in my stomach. The gnome had moved. No.

Nope. Nope. Within the 10 minutes that I was in the kitchen, it was now sitting on a chair looking right at me. Oh, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. Run out, run out. I think she does because it says that, but oh my god. Within the 10 minutes that I was in the kitchen, it was sitting in the chair looking at me. I wasn't sure what to do. I went upstairs. No,

I was about to walk into my room when I see something moving out of the corner of my eye. Are you? No, as quickly as I had turned to look at the movement, the door to the room next to mine slammed open. I don't know what else to say about that except this was not cool with me. So with that I realized I would be having my coffee somewhere else that morning. Another day, I was washing some dishes paranoid as usual. And suddenly I feel footsteps walk directly up behind me. Oh my god, fuck that. They stopped not more than a couple of inches right behind me. I couldn't move. I knew no one was home and I knew it was the ghost right behind me.

Just stand there. I couldn't move. I knew no one was home and I knew it was the ghost right behind me, just standing there. My whole body went numb and stiff at the same time, like I was cemented to the very spot I stood. I was paralyzed by fear and the chills that were making their way up up it. I was paralyzed by fear and the chills that were making their way up my spine to my skull I kept replaying what had just happened in my head trying to reason through it Unfortunately, there was no reasonable explanation just one fact. I felt those footsteps. I felt the vibrations. I knew what they meant If that weren't bad enough, I then felt something breathe on my neck. No No, no, no, no, no, no.

This properly shook me out of my temporary paralysis state and took what little sanity I had left and I nooped the fuck out of there. To this day, I still can't shake that feeling. I didn't know it yet, but the worst was still yet to come. What the actual fuck is happening in your world, girlfriend? How did you stay there with that many fucking things? She says,

I was a nice cool October evening. My friend and I had come back to the house to sip on some fall beers and watch the office. Sounds like a good time, right? Well, that actually sounds like an amazing time, not at your house. Well, not for long. Unfortunately, for me, the ghost inhabiting my house made it a hobby of crashing my plans. How rude. My friend and I were chilling in my room sipping Sam Adams October fest. Yum. As any good American

in the honor of this spooky season when I see something strange out of the corner of my eye, I glance over to my left and see my curtains moving slowly upwards like someone was picking it up. I watch in awe as it just keeps going up and up. After it got to a certain height, it just hovered in the air like that for 30 seconds or more. After hovering creepily in the air like that for way too long, it was put down. This didn't happen like you'd think. It wasn't just let go and fell to the floor like any curtain would. No. The curtain was slowly and I mean slowly. Put down as if it was done with a weird sense of caution. I frozen my seat, my eyes glued wide open at the scene of the crime. I hear my friends say, Megan, what the hell

was that? He had seen it too. His question hung in the air. I couldn't answer him. I didn't know how. I was confused and startled myself. We made a contact. A mutual fear could be seen in our eyes. Before we could say much else, we hear a loud boom right above us coming from the attic. The sound was so fucking loud. I just said so fucking loud. She decided it was so loud. It was really fucking loud though. But it shook the room. Nope, nope, nope. That was the very moment I had I had Mick freaking had it. In record time, I packed a bag in my friend and I pieced the fuck out of there. We agreed I was not safe staying near anymore and he offered me his couch girl. Get it?

Well, I was gonna say you're not supposed to sleep on the couch. Well, I was gonna say go get that couch because it's safer than where the fuck you were. Yeah, true. I had never been happier to sleep on a couch in my life. Anything was better than that house. I would have slept in my car if I had to. I don't know whatever it was infecting my house was a ghost or a demon, but whatever it was, it wasn't about to stick around any longer to find out. If I ever see another gnome in my life,

it'll be too soon. Here's the picture of the vermin itself. It's like an adorable little gnome. I refused to fucking look at it. I'm not interested. Sorry, Megan. Then she says, PS, thank you for listening to my nightmare of a story slash life. I wish I could say it was fiction. PS also, my sister, Caitlin and I are dying to read your book whenever you finish it. Only not. Girl, I promise you, I'll be finishing it soon. Stay tuned because I'm sure it's fuck not writing a book. That story was was long in the best way. It was epic. It made me laugh. It made me cry. It had all the things. I did. I just went to crack my neck and I thought I just paralyzed myself. I don't know if you saw that look fast across my eyes. I did. And I just kept talking over it. It's like it, it'll be fine. She's fine.

I genuinely just had a brief moment of panic where I thought that I was going to be paralyzed. But she's not so everything's fine. But yeah, that nob story is terrifying and if a gnome ever moves about your house, please get out of your house. You heard it here first. I'm terrified of nobs. There's a PSA. Now, I'm going to do the last listener tale of the evening and this one is hilarious. It is entitled fucking orgies, man. I'm always saying that. Aren't we all? This is by Sarah. Hi, y'all. Hi, Sarah. So I want to start off by saying that y'all are so much fun to listen to as someone who is a giant pussy literally though. I can't even watch Harry Potter because I have nightmares. You make

listening to horrific stories more entertaining except episodes 2021 Fuck You David Parker Ray. I agree. Anyways, I'll get to the story. So during my spring semester of my senior year of college in Oklahoma, I had just started doing some dishes while my roommate decided to let my dog out. It was about 9.30 on a Tuesday night in April. Nothing crazy should be going on right? Wrong! As soon as Heather, no worries, her name has changed already. Open the door to let Luna, my dog, not your child, Elena, I promise. Thank you for clearing that up.

Out to the potty, we both heard this horrific scream of a female. Y'all, when I say horrific, I mean absolutely bone chilling. Instinct goose bumps. My uber is here. I gotta go type of scream. As I mentioned before, I'm a pussy, so I just dropped the dish into the sink and frozen fear. I thought I was losing my mind, but nope Heather was frozen too.

After about 20 seconds of on and off screaming, we finally slammed the door shut and screamed what the fuck is going on since we lived in the neighborhood that was full of college kids. My first thought was that a poor young woman was being brutally murdered, kidnapped, or raped. We sit there trying to compose ourselves for a second before looking at each other and asking what to do next. We think for a second, and my gut is just telling me to call 911.

I don't want to mess around and ignore some crazy shit like that, cough cough, like the assholes at the Apple store during the Lulu Lumen murder. I grab my phone and dial 911. Tell the dispatch exactly what I hear where it's coming from and that my roommate and I are terrified. She keeps this calm and tells us an offer serves on the way. After a few seconds, the dispatcher tells me that everything will be fine and she's going to hang up now. Weird, right? So we hang up and Heather and I just sit there shaking and fear because we can hear the screams inside our house now too. What the fuck? About 10 minutes past and we get a knock at our front door. It's an officer and he asks us to step outside. Confused by the question, but respecting the officer,

we step out and ask if they were able to find the young woman. He looks as us straight in the eyes and asked if we've been drinking. Um, no, sir, we say even though even more confused now, he starts to laugh. And then we hear the girl screaming again. What the fuck? At this point, I'm getting slightly agitated because he's standing here laughing while listening to the poor girl scream. The screaming stops for a few seconds, and I kid you not. The officer looks at us and says, ladies, that bone-chilling sound you hear, annoyingly dramatic pause. That's frogs mating. Stop! Insert confused as fuck faces from Heather and I. I said, officer, I grew up on a ranch in Oklahoma. I know that isn't a frog mating.

I've been frog hunting. That doesn't even remotely sound close. Me, a true small town Oklahoma country girl. Well needless to say, after a few minutes and a search on YouTube for frog mating noises, it was confirmed. I just called 911 over a fucking frog getting it on in the pond. That's fucking brilliant.

Face palm, I've never been so mortified in my life. Long story short, keep it weird, but not so weird that you overreacting. Call 911 over some frogs having an orgy in the pond by your house. Stay great ladies, Sarah. Oh my god, That was the best one to end on. A frog orgy. Just don't call 911 over a frog orgy guys. When I grew up, we used to go to Maine a lot and there was like a huge fucking pond behind our house and I definitely heard that sound before. Yep, because John and I stayed in that house one night and I made him leave with me and go to a hotel because I thought someone was being murdered outside no joke. And even funnier, I remember my mom telling me that

you guys left and I was like, are they going to the end because I guarantee they'll get murdered there. Don't let them go there. And we did, but we lived. I just feel like people always die at ends. So yeah, those are our magnificent listener tails for this week. You guys are fucking amazing. You slay us like Buffy and keep them coming because we want to keep doing listener stories like every other week because they're just so much fucking fun. And also in case we didn't, you know, mention it enough, go take a look at our Grammar C theater tickets on ticket master in live nation for January 30th, 2020.

Go get them guys. You know you want to. And if you are a Patreon donor, we are going to be releasing a full video of our second live show at AS 220 in Providence just for Patreon donors. So look out for that. We're just trying to figure out how to upload it right now. And soon there will be some shit in the merch store. So look out for that. That includes sweatpants and scoop neck shirts and more sizes. So be ready. We hope you keep listening and we hope you keep it weird. But that's not really the greatest of all the time.

Oh, see ya. Hey, Prime Members! You can listen to Morvid, Early, and Add Free on Amazon Music. Download the Amazon Music app today, or you can listen Add Free with Wondery Plus and Apple podcasts. Before you go, tell us about yourself by completing a short survey at Wondery.com slash survey. free with Wondery Plus and Apple podcasts. Before you go, tell us about yourself by completing a short survey at Wondery.com slash survey.