My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 346

Episode Date: August 28, 2023

This week’s hometowns include a 12-year-old with a job and a break in at a coffee shop. See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Mike Williams set off on a hunting trip into the swamps of North Florida, where it was thought he met his fate by a group of hungry alligators, except that's not what happened. And after the uncovering of a secret love triangle, the truth would finally be revealed. Listen to over my dead body, gone hunting early and ad-free on Wondery Plus. Informus International, The Pink Panther's story, takes into the world of Serbia's most infamous Jewel thieves. Informus International, The Pink Panther's story takes you into the world of service most infamous Jewel thieves. Informis International, The Pink Panther's story premieres Thursday, September 14, on exactly right. Listen on Amazon Music, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hello! And welcome to my favorite murder.

The mini-sode. Come on. Love it, Simon. You love it. Okay, you wanna go first this time? Sure. Come on. Love it, Simon. You love it. Okay, you wanna go first this time? Sure. Yeah.

The subject line of this email is simply the bright side of humanity. Oh. K&G crew and critters. Oh. I sent this before. You asked for... That's such a fucking hilarious way to scare the people. Hey, look, I sent this before.

Yeah. You asked for stories about people doing good deeds. Here's a story about a roadside rescue. Back in the early 80s, before cell phones, I was cruising around the beltway, heading to a friend's house to drop off my dog's banky before going on vacation. It was after work still daylight, and strangely,

there was very little traffic. I'm in the second lane from the right and I notice an 18-wheeler barreling up in the far left lane. I glance forward to see a 4x4 piece of lumber in the left lane. How do I know it was a 4x4? Because I got a much closer look at it. Sure enough, the truck runs over the wood, turning it into a missile heading straight for my windshield. No. Spanky was next to me. She refused to ride in the back. And I pushed her to the floor,

leaned myself onto the passenger seat, and blindly turned the car to the right, trying to avoid the projectile. This all happened at once. Me pushing the dog leaning out of the way and steering the car to the right. As the wood takes off my side view mirror, bust through the driver's window

and becomes impaled inside between the headrest and the car frame. What the fuck? Thankfully, there was no one in the right lanes. In fact, there was no one at all on the road. The 18-wheeler blindly continues down the highway, and we're covered in bits of safety glass, partially pulled over on an eerily empty four-lane highway.

What the fuck just happened? Dude. The dog and I were okay, just a little stunned, and we had to exit by the passenger door since there was an eight foot four by four sticking out of the driver's window. While we were sitting on the side of the road and I'm trying to process what to do next,

this tricked out custom painted van with very large horses on it, pulls over, and two guys get out. Oh great, great. I'm hoping they're gonna be cool because I was pretty defenseless, no phone, no potential weapon, and no witnesses. They walk around my car, freaking out over the wood,

protruding awkwardly, and then approach me, asking if I'm OK. In a shaky voice, I answer yes, and I can feel the delayed response of tears and jitters coming on. One of the guys runs across all eight lanes of freeway to get to a gas station and use the pay phone and then a parentheses that says, like I said, it was the 80s.

The other one stands there looking at me and then says, I bet you could use a drink. And my 22 year old self says, a big one. And he says, well, this is your lucky day. I work for, and then in parentheses, the beer company with the very large horses. He opens the back of the van to reveal a tapped keg nestled in a custom stand and a stack of to-go cups on a little bar. Yes.

While waiting for the cops, I enjoyed a cold beverage with my savior, which we discreetly disposed of when the officer arrived. The cop took a report, the van dudes removed the lumber from my car, I dropped off spanky, and the car was repaired while I was on VK, all as well that ends well. Stay sexy and pay attention when you're driving. Lou Reda. What the fuck? I mean, that is one of the greatest stories ever told. Yeah. That's a great survivor story.

Unbelievable. That happened to us once when we were on the freeway. We watched just like a standard ladder fall off the back of a truck and come bouncing down the freeway at us so it bounced over the car in front of us. And then it hit the ground in front of the car. And my ex was driving and he kind of put his hand out and let hold on and we drove over it. Oh my God. And nothing happened.

Nothing happened. We just drove over it and it was fine. But it was, if it was any denser material, I think we smashed it from driving over it. Right. Or maybe you've had a smaller car or something like that. Yeah, it was fucking horrifying. The idea that it was just like, she just basically collided with a lumber missile.

Good thing she saw it first. I'm never leaving the house again. I mean, Lou Reda, thank you for that amazing 80s story. That was epic. That great epic story. This is called 12-Year-olds with Jobs and my almost first murder. Hello, you recently called for stories

about 12-Year-olds with jobs, and I thought, yay, I finally have a story to write in. Back in the very early 90s, you could start volunteering as a candy striper at the local hospital when you turned 12. A few of my friends did it and were tasked with safe jobs such as delivering flowers or helping in the gift shop. I must have looked like a very responsible 12-year-old because I was assigned to the transportation department,

which meant I had to transport patients out of the hospital when they were discharged home. I had a great time wheeling new moms, babies to their waiting cars, and elderly people happy to be going home. One day, the paid adult transporter called out sick, so they used me to transport patients around the hospital, which meant the patients were actually still in need of medical care. One assignment had me transporting a man who had both an IV pole and an oxygen tank. I used my not yet fully developed 12-year-old brain to come up with plan that involved him holding the IV pole while I'm a new word, the wheelchair and oxygen tank slowly to his destination and surgery.

I'm so sorry, I forgot that it this was about a 12-year-old. It took me, it only took me 30 seconds to forget where I'm like, wait a second, a like a 12 year old works at the hospital. An untrained 12 year old is moving patients from different departments. Oh, it gets worse. Wait, okay. Once we got to the nurse's station, the nurses told me to put him in a room and wanting to be efficient, I quickly grabbed his wheelchair to put him in the correct room. Only problem was that I forgot about the oxygen. The nasal cannula stayed in his

nose, but the end disconnected from the oxygen tank. I of course did the right thing, which at 12 years old was yelling, good luck with surgery and booking it off to the unit to end my shift. I spent the rest of the week convinced that I had killed the guy and fully expecting to be arrested when I arrived from my next shift. To my astonishment, no one said anything when I arrived, so I asked how he was doing. It clearly being the days before HIPAA, my boss immediately looked at his chart and told me his surgery had gone well and he had been discharged home. In an interesting turn of events, I have spent most of my career in healthcare and work

on compliance measures that have been put in place to protect patients from 12-year-olds almost killing them. Good. Thank God. I'm still trying to make amends for that poor guy who I almost killed at the tender age of 12. Stay sexy and don't let 12-year-olds doogie-houser it up at the hospital. Heather, she she her.

That's so like what a fateful story where it's like, sure, I could have potentially killed this man, but instead what I did was I took the lesson there and I went and tried to change policy in the future. That's trauma. That's like long held trauma. Yeah. Good job. The subject line of this email is, is it too late for a chip-and-dale story?

And this just starts salutations. And then it says, uh, g, y'all are excellent. Thank you for championing mental health, compassion, and general bad assery. Okay, here here goes. The year is 2000. The place is the San Fernando Valley. My best friend Anna and I are walking to Target on some vital 14 year old girl business. A red convertible pulls up next to us and a man and a dated neon tank top and shorts shorts ensemble calls out to us.

We give him our attention because we have not yet learned to fuck politeness. He tells us that he is a chip and Dale's dancer. If you ladies know anyone having a bachelor at party, give me a call. 14. He hands us an old receipt on the back of which is written David Steele, STEELE, and a phone number. And then a parenthesis that says, is this common practice among the chip and Dale set?

Is it a buzzer? David Steele, ST-E-E-L-E, and a phone number. And then a parentheses that says, is this common practice among the chip and Dale set? Is it a bizzaro catfishing attempt? Who knows? We did not call this man. Close parentheses. Of course, when we regale our folks with this story,

they're tickled. Nobody seemed the least bit concerned that we approached the car of a strange man. And David Steele's number remains in my wallet for years. Oh my god. Stay sexy and at least get some business cards, dude. Jamaica, she, her. Yeah, your parents should have yelled at you.

Sorry, David Steele was not a chip in Dale's Dancer. That wasn't real. David Steele is a fucking weirdo writing his name and phone number on a receipt and wearing neon twin set around the valley. Come on. Sounds like the valley. Pretty fucking spot on. That's kind of what the valley is like. As a resident and proud citizen, that's what we're like over here. Okay, this one's called True Crime on the Bosses Dime. That's kind of what the Valley's like as a resident and proud citizen. That's what we're like over here.

Okay, this one's called True Crime on the Bosses Dime. Greetings. In episode 384, Georgia asked how many people listened to my favorite martyr while at work? I'm raising my hand. I've been an MFM listener since the early days, thanks to my oldest friend, Sarah, who insisted I subscribe almost seven years ago. Thank you Sarah. Thank you Good job. Great review subscribe

I've enjoyed most episodes while at work Crouched over my drawing table at a large greeting card company in the Midwest. Oh So while my hand is illustrating cute Easter bunnies and sweet baby shower rainbows and delicate mother's daygukes. My ears are full of murder and mayhem. Oh, wow. Your compelling stories have helped me stay focused in the studio for long stretches of time. Months later, when I see these cards for sale in stores, I can often remember exactly which

episode I was listening to when I created the art. Oh my God. That's so cool. That's my Ling Snowman holding Missilto. National Forest serial killer. Oh my God. That's so cool. That's my Ling Snowman holding Missil Toe. National Forest serial killer. Oh my God. That adorable corgi puppy with a heart on its butt. Poisoned Halloween candy.

Sometimes I wonder if any of the darkness from the podcast seeps into the lighthearted images I'm illustrating. Next time you pick up a card for grandma, do you notice a sense of foreboding and those frallicking butterflies? Hopefully I've hidden it well. Thank you Karen and Georgia for helping me be productive at work for the better part of a decade from C. See the secret greeting card illustrator. Well here's the thing and this is something C knows as well as all of us that love true

crime. Life is a combination of light and dark. We can't have one without the other for sure. We've all had terrible Christmases or you know winter holidays or Easter's or whatever non-catholic holidays. Everybody else celebrates. I don't know. Thank you. Thank you. Including us. Thank you for mentioning. Thank you for mentioning. Okay, personally for me, this is a real love letter straight to Karen. So I'm sorry, because this is really... Sincol?

This is a single related? ...close in terms of things I love. Okay. And so I won't read you the subject line. It starts a blanket hello to all involved and associated. Karen, your hair is looking fabulous. Georgia, that cat looks great on you. Just kind of the best compliment for you all time. I love that. I love that. Okay, it says all right enough already. Let's get into this. This scene, I was a manager to coffee shop in an affluent area of Los Angeles.

I woke up at 4.30 a.m. almost every day. So one day, I walked into the coffee shop from the back door to open like any other day and I noticed something is a rye. Our bug zapper, which had been Velcro to the wall, is on the floor. Immediately, almost too immediately, I come to the conclusion. Ghosts, I enter the front, turn on the lights and see a big gaping hole where the window once was. Panic sets in. We had a break in. Is the culprit

still there? Am I in danger? I look around the small space with phone in hand, ready to dial 911, and no one is around. Thank God. When I tell you there is glass everywhere, there is glass everywhere. Months after the incident, I was still fighting broken glass, completely covering every surface and on the floor, but there were also shards of glass all the way to the sidewalk. So I call everyone, the police, my operations manager, my mom, my, my boss tells us to stay and open like normal. Sure. So slowly our regular start rolling in. Now being in a trendy, wealthier area of LA, we get quite a number of celebrities, and

then in parentheses it just says brag. Now I don't want to name any names, but we would often get a lovely visit from a particular Irishman with devilish good looks, an eyebrows that could vote, run for mayor, pull their own weight, start a band, build a house, join a cult, call your dad, etc. Yep, Colin Farrell. Yay! It's a Colin Farrell email. Oh my god! It's a call and feral email. Oh my god, singles and call and feral. Like what else is there? Like, like, like, oh my god. Also, KK is losing her shim.

I am kind of dying. Here's the funniest thing though. After the name call and feral, they put somehow in an email, they have the emoji of a penguin. I don't know why. You don't know what that means. Oh, the penguin from Batman. Did he play the penguin? They put somehow in an email, they have the emoji of a penguin. Why? Oh, the penguin from Batman. Did he play the penguin in the most recent Batman?

Oh, that's amazing. Okay. Perfect. For a second, I was like, Oh, these kids with their secret emoji language. I was like, the lobster. Was there a penguin in the lobster? Is there a penguin, a girl egg plant? How do what's happening?

Okay. He's the penguin a girl egg plant? How do what's happening? Okay, he's the penguin. Okay. Colin orders his usual through the app and then in parentheses it says, I still remember his coffee order to this day. Oh my God, we need it, please. Please.

And when he arrives, one of my employees is outside sweeping glass with a pitiful broom and the rest of my staff, including myself, are busy inside sweeping cleaning and making coffee orders. Colin Pokes's head through the gaping hole and says, what the fuck happened? I explain that we had a break in and he says, and you have to stay open,

and then in front of the season says, oh, he gets me. He then turns to my employee and motions with his hand to give him the broom. I'm standing there in a coffee shop with broken glass up to my elbows, Colin Farrell's flat white in hand. There's his coffee order. Not white.

Watching Colin Farrell sweep glass outside and I speak out loud, I'm not entirely convinced I'm not dreaming. I hand him his coffee, our hands graze each other through the handoff, and I carry on with my day one of the best days of my life. And then it says, and now for your unexpected pleasure, an MFM anecdote. So they're transferring just from one of the greatest

Colin Farrell stories I've ever heard. Yeah. Second only to my own where I saw him at the concession stand at the arclay. Yes. Into this. For the shortest minute of my life, I worked in an animal hospital. One busy day, I see this confused man walk in with a dog.

He asks if we can help him, this dog appeared on his front lawn and did know who they belonged to. I scan the microchip and let him know I'd be right back. In the back, I make the call and the woman on the other line gives me the name and the phone number of the owner. She starts to say the name. Karen killed the rift. What? My jaw equals floor. You're kidding me. I have Karen Coguerreves' dog in the lobby and then bam, it made sense. This dog had three legs. It was George.

Oh my God. So Karen, I sincerely apologize for leaving you the most confusing and disoriented voicemail. I was starstruck by sweet old George and your outgoing message, which is literally me going, hello, your huge character, I'll get off leave a message, goodbye. Like as fast as I possibly can, just kind of funny.

All righty, stay sexy. And when Colin Farrell motions to you to give him the broom, you give him the broom, Chelsea B. Do you remember that specifically? Oh, I remember it. And I remember Chelsea B's message because it was during quarantine. Yeah.

So this was like right when people started feeling like it might be okay to see their friends and actually like be around Another outside person. Yeah, which is so weird. So Bridger, Winager of I said no guest Please listen if you haven't already he calls and he's like I'm going to go and say and if I stay in my house one minute longer And I'm like let's go to the beach and so George had a problem slash talent when she had all four legs and then apparently when she had all three. That's what I was gonna say.

I didn't know she fucking was able to do that with three legs. Yes, so my dog George, when she had four legs, could climb fences. And I thought my fence was broken because she got out multiple times at my old house and my neighbors around me were like, you're the worst dog parent of all time. And I literally was like hiring my next door neighbor Rick to come and fix my fence.

Even though we were like, okay, let's replace this fence. Now we're replacing this fence. And then one day Rick is standing in his driveway and he watches George pull herself up over an eight foot fence, flip herself into his hedge, roll off, and then walk up the street. And he goes, Karen, I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it with my own eyes. I was like, thank you. I'm not a bad dog parent. She's like, this is extraordinary. So this time, this was at a new house. And essentially, they found there was this weird way out the front

that because it was the first time I'd left the house in two years. Yeah, she's like, fuck this, where's mom? She was panicking, I think, and she went and climbed the front fence with three legs and then basically walked up the street. This is kind of the funniest thing and this family was so nice. She walks up the street and then just goes into these people's yards and lays down because she only has three legs. So she's like, I shouldn't have made any promises. Yeah. So I'm out of the house for the first time in over two years and we're driving home from the beach. So we're like

on the 405. And then I see, oh no, I've gotten four messages that can't be good and the first one was from Chelsea B going Hi Karen, I work at the blah blah blah animal hospital. We um We found your dog and then I'm like of course. She's okay Yeah, that's terrifying It was pretty terrifying and then when we pulled up and she was just laying in their front yard like it was her house Just chilling and they had like a little sun. I think he was like four three or four years old Just kind of hanging out with her and it was just like as if I dropped her off at the dog sitter And now it was picking her up except for these people being had a play date

It was so embarrassing. That's adorable so embarrassing the only way that would have been better is if the guy had been single and it had been a meet cute. Could you imagine that? Someone has had to meet that way before, right? Probably. Yeah. Somebody with a true lunatic, like that dog was, she had a touch of crazy in her where she was just like, yeah, if you leave me a lot for too long, I'm just going to start climbing

shit and I don't care. I got to find you Yeah, I'm trying to save your life. What are you doing leaving the house like you're out in this world by yourself? I don't trust you out in the world All right, this last one's called Two for one funeral director edition my dad has passed so I feel like I can safely share these stories now My dad has passed, so I feel like I can safely share these stories now. My dad worked as a funeral director, and one time, the mob approached him, asking to bury two bodies at once via a hidden compartment under a casket. Oh, wow.

Wow. He said no. Not so much because it was wrong, but because, quote, once you do one thing for the mob, you're on the hook for life. Yeah. My dad very much enjoyed not being beholden to anyone. I mean, either way, you're fucked. You say, no to the mob.

And then they know that you know a secret. Also, how do you say no to the mob and they don't make you the third body in the second compartment? Exactly. No, thank you. Okay, guys, you're great. I think you're great. Yeah, I'm just not, that's not me. Love your work.

Love what you do. Just, just know. And also, was he providing the casket with the secret compartment or were they? That's a great question. Maybe they have them. There was also a time that he worked at a crematory. The building looked like a generic, unlabeled industrial garage from the outside. One night, the hearse inside was stolen for a joyride.

The cops found at the next day, only a few blocks away, parked on the side of the road, with a note inside from the thieves stating how very sorry they were to have stolen it. This was because there was a body in the back the whole time. Oh, yeah, they're sorry. Yeah, very sorry. I still laugh imagining their reaction when they realized it was like teenagers or something, you know. Yeah, yeah.

Stay sexy and say no to the mob, the... How do you say no to the mob? No, thank you, I think. Maybe it's the funeral home was like an old family funeral home where they've been in the neighborhood for years and it was like, guys, you know, I can't get involved in this type of thing. Totally.

I mean, that makes you wonder how many fucking bodies are buried in a trap door and a fucking casket from the mob. In New Jersey, many. Yeah. I bet. He's in a bunch of bed. He's just down there under somebody's great grandma. Yeah. Someone's nanodied and he really,

what a batch. That was a batch, for sure. That was quite a batch. That was, can you do it too? Write us a letter at my favorite murder at Gmail. Get in here. It's fun. And stay sexy.

And don't get murdered. Yay! Elvis, do you want a cookie? Ah! Ah! This has been an exactly right production. Our senior producer is Alejandra Keck. Our editor is Aristotle Acevedo.

This episode was mixed by Leonis Kulachi. Email your hometowns to my favorite murder at gmail.com. And follow us on Instagram and Facebook at my favorite murder and on Twitter at my fave murder. Goodbye! Listen, follow, leave us a review on Amazon Music, Apple Podcast, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, prime members, did you know that you can listen to my favorite murder early and ad free on Amazon Music?

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