My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 336

Episode Date: June 19, 2023

This week’s hometowns include an ‘80s kid survival story and a field trip of terror.  See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

This is exactly right. It's hard to imagine losing a loved one, a wife, a husband, a child. For many, it's their biggest fear. Amarissa Jones, host of The Vanished. A podcast that tells the stories of often overlooked and unsolved missing persons' cases, in an effort to uncover the truth. Listen to The Vanished on Amazon Music or wherever you get your podcasts. Hello!

And welcome to my favorite murder. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. And welcome to my favorite murder. The mini-sode, where we read you your stuff. And we're just going to get into it because you know all the things that we normally say. Yeah. And you don't really need an introduction. That's right. Come on, go first.

It's emails. It's emails. If you're someone's sister or mom that just started listening, it's emails. Okay. About anything. Truly. Listener emails about really whatever story they want to tell us. And this one, I mean, this one's good. Okay.

I'm not going to read you the subject line though, it just starts high. I'm new to MFM and also podcasts, but so far, super good. I didn't really, I skimmed that part to get to the meat of this and I didn't really notice that intro. Thank you. Thank you very much. My husband and I live in a new build neighborhood, so all of the homes are brand new and built within the last eight years. Naturally when we moved in, I just assumed that there wouldn't be any ghosts.

Fast forward a few years and all of the couples are having babies. My neighbor, who has become a close friend, tells me that some very strange things are happening in their house, mostly around the electronics. TV turning on on its own to a white screen and not turning off with the remote. Alarm clocks changing to military time and going off in the middle of the night and the dogs avoiding certain rooms in the house. Although creepy, they continued to go without about their normal lives, and I continued to freak out slash hope that every time she came over to watch trash TV

and drink wine, that the ghosts didn't catch her right over to my house. The final straw from my neighbor happened when she was awoken in the middle of the night by her daughter who had just turned one. So this is a baby, basically. Screaming from inside the closet in the nursery, my friend was incredibly freaked out because her daughter was still young enough

that she slept in a crib on its lowest setting, had never tried to climb out and had not started walking yet. What? The next morning, she looked back at the Nest Camera footage. They used as a baby monitor and was unable to find the moment her daughter went from sleeping peacefully in her crib to sitting in her closet across the room crying. She was simply just in her crib one moment

and in the closet the next. No. No. As her daughter got older, she would point at the nest camera and cry and wouldn't fall asleep unless she was put to bed in the other bedroom. Naturally, a few years later,

when they had their second daughter, they put her in the same room without blinking an eye. And if that doesn't perfectly explain how second kids are treated like second-class citizens, I don't know what does. And then it says in parentheses, I fortunately was blessed to be the oldest of three here.

Oh, well lucky. You. Oh, must be nice. Tripping third. Oh, yeah. Yeah, that is rough. It is. Anywho, my neighbor decided to have her house

saged by another neighbor who confirmed that she got quote, very negative vibes when she was in the house. As usual, all of the moms decided to take this as an opportunity to leave their kids at home with the dads and drink wine on a Wednesday night. Yeah. I absolutely did not fucking attend. But I noticed around 7 p.mpm my lights flickered in my house. And when asking my neighbor about how the sage ceremony went, she confirmed that at the end of the ceremony, all of the lights in her house went off and on the same time my lights flickered. My friend has told that to seal the ceremony, she needs to bury the sage. You would think that this would be the first thing my neighbor would do. Nope. She put it in her junk drawer

and her husband threw it away, assuming it was trash. Yeah, further pissing off the spirit world. I mean, holy shit. I know, I don't even believe in this shit, but I would be in my backyard with a shovel the minute after. Doing signs of the cross. Totally.

I knew it. And I would be like praying to Jesus. Please Jesus, join me in this one situation. Thank you so much for making my commute bearable, stay sexy and don't throw the sage in a jump drawer. Margaret, PS, please tell me one of you is the one singing the theme song. Do it, Karen. Do it. Yes, please tell me one of you is the one singing the theme song.

Do I, Karen? Do it. It's Karen. It is me. Margaret, that story was not so great. Oh, in a closet. Horrifying. I mean, burn the house down after that. Also, just like move the child out of the room. If something's moving the child around who step in, I would just, you know, easy for me to say. Yeah. Hindsight is 2020 vision.

Get the child away from the invisible demon that doesn't show up on the next year, Rose. My light suggestion. Okay. on the next year was my light suggestion. Okay, this one's called Kid in a Dryer. Um, hi, friends. F-R-A-N-D-S. Pleasant trees to you all. Let's get into it. Pun intended.

And I was listening to Miniso 326 and Georgia was talking about the quote, game. Her and her siblings played with the pullout couch. I knew I had to share this childhood quote game. My brother and I used to play kid in a dryer. And then it's trademarked. And then it says, as Kate Wiggler Dawson says, let's set the scene. Imagine a frigid Canadian winter in the late 80s or late 1900s as my kids like to say. As elementary school kids, we used to walk to and from school about 20 minutes in snow

up to our knees most winter days. By the time we got home, our socks and bottom half of our pants would be soaking wet or sometimes frozen solid. Jesus. Uh-huh. We were used to putting our socks and pants in the dryer when we got home and waiting for them to dry while watching whatever show

we could tune in with our antenna because we didn't have cable. Okay. antenna hive, rise up. That's right, bunny ears. There's only so much public television a kid can watch. So after a while, we developed this game where we would take turns getting all caps into the dryer and all caps turning it on

because we were home alone, cold and bored. Yeah. It started out the worst possible way. Just a kid in a dryer banging around with the door closed. You heard that right. The door was closed. Yeah, it can't go if the door isn't closed. Right.

It got hot fast. So we only took short rides. But once my brother came out red-faced and with a goose egg over his eye, I figured we better cushion ourselves somehow. I shoved a bunch of blankets and pillows around the drum and got back in. We started to feel like we couldn't breathe in there with all those pillows and blankets, but we couldn't end the game. It was too much fun.

After a little exploration, we discovered that all you had to do was push a little lever by the opening of the door and voila, the dryer would go with the door open. and voila, the dryer would go with the door open. I'm talking 1980s dryers too, by the way, or probably 1970s because people didn't buy new appliances back then. It's just, it's like so hilarious and it's also making me panic so hard. Like this is so fucking unsafe and kids in the 70s and 80s did shit like this constantly. Totally. Totally. Oh, no supervision. None.

No. Let the quote, games begin. This became a regular wintertime activity for my brother and I until we both got too big to get in the dryer. It was so dumb and could have ended so badly, but getting dizzy is a kid's equivalent to getting high. And we rode that fucking machine like it was our job. It's, they outgrow it. They did stop because something bad. No, I don't know if my parents ever found out about it, but my dad did have to replace the

dryer belt more frequently than he expected. And then remember him saying it was strange how fast we were going through them. Anyway, thanks for reading my 80s kid survival story. Stay sexy and if you want to warm up after a long winter walk, just put a blanket in the dryer, not yourselves. Meg she her. That's very true, Meg. There's so many other ways to warm up

besides that hilariously dangerous one. true, Meg. There's so many other ways to warm up besides that hilariously dangerous one. Yeah, but that's fun. Well, yeah, it's not gonna pass the time in the same way. Because I think deep down at least I remember that when we did stuff like that, we knew it was bad. We knew it was dangerous.

That was part of it. Whereas, like, well, Mezzel, try it. I mean, who knows? Oh, Jesus. Yeah. New, it was dangerous. That was part of it. Where's like, well, Mezzel try it. I mean, who knows? Oh, Jesus. Okay. With celebrity beef, you never know if you're going to end up on TMZ trending on Twitter or in court. Wondry's new podcast, Disantel, is hosted by comedian Sydney Battle and Matt Bellasai. Each episode explores a different iconic celebrity feud from the buildup what happened and the repercussions. What does our obsession with these feuds say about us?

The first season is packed with a pretty messy love triangle between Selena Gomez and Justin and Hayley Bieber. A seemingly innocent TikTok of Selena talking about her laminated eyebrows snowballed into a full of blown alleged viewed. The internet wants to pit these two women against each other, but if you cut through the layers of PR spin, you'll find that this is a conflict about three people who've been pushed into stardom since they were children. But it doesn't seem like fans are letting up anytime soon. Despite both Selena and the Bieber's making public statements denying any bad blood. How much of this is teen jealousy and 20-something lovers quarreling, and how much of it is a carefully calculated narrative designed to sell albums?

Follow disenthal wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad free on the Amazon music or wonder yet. Let's go back to Canada for this next email. Let's. It's the subject line is field trip of terror. Hi, all. I grew up in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada, where I went to a small French immersion grade school. I think the total population from kindergarten to grade eight was about a hundred and it was a pretty low budget institution on the outskirts of town. The neighborhood around it was mainly auto body repair shops. You're really painting a picture. Needless to say, there wasn't a lot of money to go around for school activities. While some kids grew up going on field trips to museums and space centers, our teachers had other ideas. When I was in grade seven, as a special class

treat, my teacher walked us across the big school brush field in parentheses playground through a hole in the fence and down a dirt path in a forest to the towns abandoned tuberculosis sanatorium. And then it just says the 80s, am I right? Yes. Oh my God. Yes, you are right. We're on the URF team. That is so freaking cool.

But not for kids. No, but also these teachers, it's just like, well, yeah, I mean, you got, they got to do something. I got so much. This is called making a murder in a like right there, not to be confused with the Netflix series. All right. The hospital had been built in the 1920s,

but with the decline of the disease, the institution fell out of use and into disrepair. The huge building had set empty for years. It was a five story sprawling monstrosity that I'm really not joking looked a lot like the overlook hotel in the show. So jealous. Yeah, I mean, this is epic. I can't really remember how we got into the building. Was it unlocked? Did my teacher break us in? What I do remember is getting separated from my teacher and 12 classmates and wandering around empty dimly lit peeled painted hallways.

and wandering around empty, dimly lit, peeled, painted hallways. Some rooms were totally empty. Other spaces kind of looked like the doctors and patients had left in a hurry and meant to come back. Old furniture and weird medical equipment was everywhere. Maybe more concerning were the rooms that looked like people had been squatting in them more recently. I remember the terror of peering down dark corridors, not knowing how to get out,

and looking back over my shoulder every five seconds. I really didn't want to run into any inhabitants of that hospital living or dead. Eventually, I found my way back to my classmates, and we all made it out physically unscathed. I think the best part was that night at the dinner table when it didn't even occur to me to mention anything to my parents. Again, the 80s, am I right? Yes, you are very right. Thanks again to you both for all that you do. You truly are the best SSDGM

and try not to traumatize your students on field trips. Love, Ariana in Ottawa. I mean. Oh, that's so great. It is quite epic. Okay, mine is called UPS store stories. Because we asked for them. This one just starts so. My mother used to own a UPS store, their franchises. She's from Myanmar. And as most first generation Asian American families know, evenings and weekends are not meant for fun,

especially when your single mother owns a business, and the motherland is a developing country that is in constant turmoil. You learn quickly to work hard and never say no to good business. So naturally, I, a 12 year old, was sorting the mail and packaging valuables on my time off from school.

That's right. Mm-hmm. We had several assholes a day, but most of our regular customers were decent. There was this one buff row who would come in regularly and send these small six by six boxes to various places. He would only give a first name for the sent-to address and his return address was a PO box to

a post office instead of a physical address. A little sketch, but we don't question regularly returning business. Anyway, one day, while I was working, and my mom wasn't around, Buffbro brought in another tiny box to send to another vague name. My co-worker slash family friend slash baby sitter, let's call him Ron, stands by as I process the shipment and buff bro leaves and goes about his day. As soon as he leaves, Ron goes, you know that's a box of steroids, right? Me, and then it says, quote, question mark, then upside down question mark.

I end quote, so I think it's the best way to like to say what? Upside down, even do an upside down question mark. That's it. That's they use upside down question marks in Mexico for Hispanic. Oh, interesting. Ron just grabs the box and splits it open to see a box full of tiny vials of steroids packaged in some bubble wrap. It's totally illegal to open someone's package if it's already sealed. But Brogui was sending steroids all around the country, which was definitely illegal.

And I was like 12 working a cash register, and that was probably illegal. It was just all very illegal. Ron just taped the box back up, and we were tended like nothing happened. Buff Bro was spending money, and it wasn't our problem if Jim Doos were giving themselves ass acne. As far as I was concerned, I saw nothing. That's right. Anyway, I have several other stories of illegal activities we quote unknowingly participated in and also gross things

like one where a dude wanted me to print something from a flash drive and he had porn save to it. So FYI, if you hand your flash drive over to someone to print something, we can see all your files. He then proceeded to ask me out after the transaction, and I discussively turned him down because he was icky and creepy, and I was also a child.

Oh, I know. We also had to call the cops on a guy once who wouldn't leave our store because his paperwork was delivered a day late due to weather. And there was also the time we were robbed by an old disgruntled employee, not that fun. Thanks to the whole MFM team for all the laughs and love, you ladies have held my hand through some of the worst times of my life. And I don't know where, if I'd be here, if you hadn't been, if I hadn't been introduced to you back in the beginning of 2020. Oh, wow. You're the best friends.

I have ever, no, you're the best friends. I have never met Sexy and Tonkett murdered Melissa. Melissa, that's such a good, I mean, any stories of people having jobs as 12 year olds, I wanna hear all about them. Yeah. Because that is, it's the kind of thing I think when I was 12 and fifth or sixth grade,

I would be like, I'd love to work at the UPS store. I want a job. But then it's like, no, the idea that a child having to deal with those ludicrous idiots that are like yelling at them for mail and not being there or whatever, just like customers. No. No. I also love the idea that Melissa was working and then Ron was just kind of like hanging out overseeing. She's vaguely babysitting her, but I know.

I was also looking through people's stuff. Okay, the subject line of this one is my one hour photo treasure. Hello friends, hope you're well and getting the time you need for yourself. Oh, that's so nice. Very nice. Long time listener, second time emailer, it was a long story about my grandmother's death under suspicious circumstances. But this one is a short and sweet one that I think will bring a good giggle.

A very hip, very punk, very artsy friend named Stacey worked at the photo department of a now-defunct drugstore chain. He was kind of a not shy but really chill person in high school, and one day at lunch, he approached me with the biggest smile I've ever seen. And then it just says, in quotes, I have a present for you. We were more on the acquaintance side of friends, ran in the same circle, and would end up at the same social hangs, would say, hey in the hall, but we'd never once exchanged any sort of gifts. I was beside myself with curiosity and joy,

and a little guilt because it's not like I had anything to give him. He hands me a photo envelope. The exact kind you'd get when your photos were done at the one hour photo. And then in quotes, it says, these came through work the other day, and I immediately thought of you, a photo envelope. The exact kind you'd get when your photos were done at the one hour photo. And then in quotes, it says, these came through work the other day and I immediately thought of you. My imagination ran wild. Were these some randos sexy pics, some photo evidence of a wild debaturist night, potential blackmail for my absolutely shitty stepsister? No, even better.

One of Stacey's customers was a professional photographer on a deadline and they needed help speedily printing proofs of their professional concert photos, dot, dot, dot, from Bet Midler. Profession. And this is, this is a, has a title case to it. It says, professional front row bet midler concert photos. Whoa.

I squealed. Stay sexy and know that you're my hero. Everything I would like to be, etc. Josh. I love the Josh. Okay, then if there are acquaintances with Stacy, that means they might be a little punk rock too. Mm-hmm. But they're also obsessed with bet midler. So that is such a cool thing. You know what I mean? Like he had Bet Midler patch on his letter jacket.

Yes. Probably had made it known in some way, but also like what Josh and Stacy just did was the 80s version of social media. It was in person Instagram where it's like, you would love this. I'm going to just. I can't do it. Yes, exactly. But it's like, I have to hand the actual photo to you in by hand. Wow. I miss that. I miss face to face. Yeah. Until I have to do it. Okay.

My last one's called a two for one. Toddler's open to astroplane, shit, story. Oh, this is a long one, so let's just get into it. This is the third time I've written in about this, but this time you specifically asked for it. I have more details now and hopefully better writing skills, so here goes. When my little cousin, M, was around two or three years old, his bedroom window started to leak after a storm. His parents did their best to fix, to staunch the leak while they figured out who to call to come fix it.

It stormed again the next night, but just as quick as it started, the leak stopped. My aunt and uncle wondered aloud at why my little cousin had the answer. It was the hammering man. Okay, creepy toddler. That was the hammering man. Okay, creepy toddler, that's not at all terrifying. His parents asked him what he was talking about and he just said the hammering man fixed it. Probably creeped out like any of us would be. His parents said, okay, and moved on.

But weeks later, another storm came and the leak was back. My aunt Uncle brought out the towels again to block it and once again resolved to call someone to repair it. But just like the last time, more rain came and the window stopped leaking. Once again, my little cousin said the hammering man came and fixed it. The leaks stopped for good that time so they weren't creeped out by their toddler mentioning the hammering man again until they went to my grandma's house where pictures of my dad held prominent spots in her living room.

My little cousin saw the pictures, gasped and exclaimed, it's the hammering man. Oh, my dad died when I was two and a half years old. My little cousin, and was about five months old at the time. So my dad met him, but he would not remember my dad. He was handy and could have definitely have fixed a leaky window, but his toddler nephew would have no way of knowing that. I always believed this story because my dad was so happy to finally be an uncle, I'm told, but died shortly after becoming one. And also because I too had to visit around the same age. A couple of months after my dad's death,

my mom, a 30-year-old new widow with a toddler was in our living room trying to wind down after putting me to bed. When she heard me say, hi, daddy, oh, the words and something in my tone made the hair on her arm stand up and she went to investigate. She could hear me talking excitedly as she made her way down the hall.

And when she opened my door, she found me sitting up in bed, beaming. She asked me what I was doing and I immediately told her that daddy had been there. I told her that he said, hi, Bubba, he used to call me this because it was how I said, baby. I just got to quote,

heavens, you can't come with me, but I love you. Oh. Mm-hmm. Needless to say, my mom was majorly freaked out, but we both believed that my dad visited me because he couldn't leave without an explanation

and the chance to say goodbye. I don't remember this visit sadly, but I do remember my dad a little because he was my best friend. I believe he still visits me, but in more subtle ways, like sending a cigar magazine Do you remember my dad a little because he was my best friend? I believe he still visits me, but in more subtle ways,

like sending a cigar magazine in his name to a house he never lived in. Oh, we moved there when I was five on the mornings of both my high school and college graduations. They just got this cigar magazine? Yeah, with his name on it. Oh, face X can keep calm

when your toddler gets a visit from beyond Rachel. How Rachel? How? Oh, that choked me up a little. I know that dad visited the Bubba, the baby, but then came back and visited his nephews too. Or nephew, singular. too, or nephew singular. Oh, that's sweet.

No. That's a good one to end on, that's lovely. Yeah. Is that it? I think so, right? Yeah. Write in your stories to us, please. We love them all.

My favorite murder at Gmail. Go for it. Yeah. And stay sexy. And don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie? Yeah, and say sexy. And don't get murdered! Goodbye! Elvis, do you want a cookie?

Ah! This has been an exactly right production. Our producer is Alejandra Keck, and this episode was engineered and mixed by Stephen Ray Morris. Da-da-da-da! Email your hometowns and fucking arrays to my favorite murder at gmail.com. Follow the show on Instagram and Facebook at my favorite murder and Twitter at my Fave Murder. Goodbye!

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