My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 372

Episode Date: February 26, 2024

This week’s hometowns include partying at Summer Jam ‘73 and a naughty pony. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This is exactly right. Hi, I'm Una Chaplin and I'm the host of a new podcast called Hollywood Exiles. It tells the story of how my grandfather Charlie Chaplin and many others were caught up in a campaign to root out communism in Hollywood. It's a story of glamour and scandal and political intrigue and a battle for the soul of the nation. Hollywood Exiles from CBC Podcasts and the BBC World Service, available now on Spotify. Hello. Hello. And welcome to my favorite murder.

The mini-soad. Hi. We're going to read you some of your emails. It started out as our idea. Now it's your idea. Yeah, do whatever you want. We're just here to tell you about it. You want to go first? Yeah, do whatever you want. We're just here to tell you about it. You wanna go first?

Yeah. I love the CBL. Okay. The subject line is, pliers in the ignition, red flag. Dear Karen and Georgia, this story takes place back in 2019 when I was in college. And then in parentheses it says,

hopefully that's okay. Your definition of a hometown story seems pretty loose these days. How dare you. I had just moved into my freshman dorm and made the brave decision to fully come out as a gay guy. Unfortunately, this also came with what can only be described as a hoe phase. God bless. I think that's what's supposed to happen. Yeah, you've been holding back for like fucking 18 years in your home, do your little hometown. Yes. Now you're allowed to fucking slot it up.

You're at college, you've aligned with yourself and what you really want, and now you go get it. That's right. Okay, but then it says, fast forward into later that year. After a long night of drinking the four locos, we had smuggled into our door. I decided to meet up with an internet stranger

or more specifically have him pick me up and take me home. And then in parentheses it says, I mean, hey, we all had that phrase of being young and feeling absolutely invincible, right? Yeah. Yeah, anyways, and it actually says anyways, against the advice of my friends, I got into this dude's car.

And when I got in, let me tell you, he looked much older than the picture. Yeah, he also had noticeable mannerisms that were a little unsettling, but I tried to ignore it. I attempted to break the ice and said, nice to meet you. Things still felt off, so I blurted a joke about his bold beat-up car smelling weird. He got kinda quiet and offended, then mentioned his ignition wasn't working The man still felt off, so I blurted a joke about his bold beat-up car smelling weird.

He got kind of quiet and offended, then mentioned his ignition wasn't working so he had to, in quotes, mess with it. I somehow had not even noticed the hot-wired ignition in this man's car. A pair of large pliers were sticking out of a completely butchered steering wheel ignition area with wires everywhere. The image is ingrained into my head to this day. It was really an oh shit moment. We arrived at his creepy motel-esque apartment and I immediately texted my friend my location. In brief words, I told her that this dude looks like he's on something and his car appears to be stolen.

After weird small talk in his apartment, she arrives and without any goodby, I bolted out into the safety of my friend's car. I hadn't heard your show at the time, but damn did I fuck politeness. Nice. I never saw him again and sometimes questioned if it actually happened. And how was I so naive? I'm thankful it did happen though, because it taught me I am not invincible and gay people can be creepy car thieves too. And then in parentheses it says, yay equality, stay sexy and check for pliers, anonymous.

Oh my God. Yeah, pliers, that's a red flag. It's a real quick, oh, real quick, I have to run back in the house. That's a real quick, That's a, it's a real quick. Oh, um, oh, real quick. I have to run back in the house. Yeah. That's a real quick. I'm in a tech enroll and open the door and just look in one weird direction and say real quick in a weird voice.

And then. Yeah. Hands on that. Uh, what's it called? A door handle. Ten and two. Creepy story of the beyond. It says, yes, you asked for this in Minnesota 317

and I am now rescinding this email weekly until you see this. That's all the title. Hi all friends furry or not, including forever, Steven and the infamous Alejandra. Let's do this. The infamous Alejandra. Alejandra, what have you done?

Forever Steven, I love that. Yeah. I'm a firm believer in spirits and ghosts. I've had too many creepy experiences not to be. This is not my experience, but my moms and kind of my brothers that firmly rooted me further when it happened. who broke into the male dominated silo of being an attorney when she was younger. After being a stockbroker, she has no chill. She's very good at her job. And as a result was headhunted about 15 years ago from her old firm to her new firm. She had been at the previous for 12 years and was going through a horrible divorce with my piece of shit dad and had me 10 and my brother three. She was trying to talk herself out of it well

in the phone with her late best friend, John, who I always say is my real dad and miss him terribly, discussing her options. It was about midnight on a Friday and my then three-year-old brother, who had been asleep for hours, walked in, handed her a picture and said, in her little three-year-old voice, she says, don't be scared. He then walked out and went promptly back to bed. My mom was obviously shell shocked and she asked John, did you hear that? Followed by, he brought me Sally's picture.

Back story on Sally. My mom has 10 siblings and six are now living. My poor grandmother had a very poor of her children, including Sally. Sally was hit and killed by a drunk driver at the age of 14 when my mom was 10. We obviously never met her and my mom doesn't have too many memories with her

and was not particularly close with her being four years apart. We only have one photo of her in the house. I learned of Sally when I was about seven or eight, but my brother had no idea who she was at three years old. Once the shock wore off, John said, well, okay then, I guess your decision has been made. Years later, we were on vacation talking about this book

that claimed our house we stayed at was haunted. I then brought up, remember when Ryan did that creepy shit when he was three? He then proceeded to tell us in detail his recollection of her waking him up and asking him to follow her into the office, handed him the picture, and told him to tell my mom her message. Oh my god. He even pulled us detailed down to what she was wearing the night she died.

Her prominent cheekbones, seriously they're insane, and her sleek black hair that was long and wavy. And this is mind you, in the picture, it's a horrible short bowl cut, 1973. What a time to be alive. He was 15 then and still holds true to his memories of that night now at 19. I have a recording on my phone from the original conversation in 2019 because it's truly unbelievable. I've been recording on my phone from the original conversation in 2019 because it's truly unbelievable. Needless to say, she did take the job and has been there as chief finance chair and head legal counsel for real estate for 15 years. Wow. Stay sexy and listen to your three-year-old when he is channeling spirits, Kayla.

She says don't be scared. And that's the only photo of her deceased 14-year-old sister. And this is a child that can't say applesauce, but is actually communicating, like giving you a pep talk. Right. From your sister who has passed off. Isn't that wild? And also, usually in those stories, if a kid is like three years old, if he was 14, he'd

be like, I don't know what you're talking about. Yeah. And instead this kid's like, I'll tell y'all about it. Yeah. Ooh, good one. Right? There's a lot of talk about bettering yourself, but we don't all have endless weekends

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Like, it was so effective. I'm not getting engaged with like a story or anything like that. It's like basically this kind of really nice white noise that sent me off to sleep. I need that. New members can try Audible Free for 30 days. Visit audible.com slash murder or text murder to 500-500. That's audible.com slash murder or text murder to 500-500. That's audible.com slash murder or text murder

to 500-500 to try Audible free for 30 days. Audible.com slash murder. Goodbye. Here's another good one. It says, writing the car running boards gone wrong. Karen's story in episode 410. And it says, hi everybody, but specifically Karen because this one's for you.

In episode four 10, you talk about how your dad let you and your sister ride on the running boards of the car. And it being so exciting. It really was. My mom used to let me and my brother do the same. At the time. It's so insane. It's so insane.

Does everyone know what it means? Like the step that's outside of the door, like that you used to step up, right? Like to get in a truck or whatever? Yeah, in some cars, like ours was a Volkswagen. You see them on big SUVs a lot of the time. There's a little like a lip, like a step and only kids feet would fit onto it.

So like you couldn't do it as an adult on a Volkswagen for sure. But we'd be like four feet tall. My dad would roll the window up a little bit. Oh, another window sale? Oh my God. You just hold onto the window. Okay.

At the time of the story, we were living on 10 plus acres in East Texas. So we had a super long driveway to our house. It was customary for my mom to stop and let me and my brother get on each side of the car and hang onto the oh shit handles on the Inside while we were standing on the running boards on the outside Every single day when we got home from school. We would do

Alright Well until it says my brother and I would be laughing with excitement at each other through the open windows on either side of the car This specific day my brother was on the driver's side by my mom and I was on the passenger side. My mom had just gotten the car washed and waxed the day before. So the running boards were a bit more slick than usual. All of a sudden, while looking at my brother and laughing,

I see him fall, then feel the car roll over him. Immediately, my mom presses on the brake and we both hop out feel the car roll over him. Immediately, my mom presses on the brake, and we both hop out of the car while my brother is screaming bloody murder. My mom ran over my brother. Oh, my god. Right? Lucky for him and her and also me, it was only his leg.

And after a quick visit to urgent care, he walked away with no injuries. Oh, you ran over your son in the car that you let him hang. Like, you can't explain that away, you know, like that urgent care. Well, how did this happen? Well, how it happened isn't important. It's the fact that I didn't want it to happen. Right.

That's the mom. So it says, you can imagine that no one in the family ever let my mom live that down. For Christmas that year, an uncle of mine got my brother a white shirt with tire marks going across it. Just to let everyone know, we will always remember. I like that uncle. Yep. Thank you.

I mean, it just like spread like gossip in their own family. It's hilarious. Thank you ladies for being, it just like spread like gossip in their own family. It's hilarious. Thank you ladies for being such a big part of my life for the past five years. Y'all have gotten me through college, death of loved ones, the pandemic, and multiple failed attempts at finding a job

I don't absolutely hate. Stay sexy and don't get run over by your mom. Addison, she, her. Good one, Addison. Sweet. Childhood, hijinks. What's the thing that a family member in your family can't live down that everyone like fucking brings up

every holiday? Is it you that did something? Like, what is it? Yeah, that's a great prompt. Because that is actually an easier way to think of something than like, tell us a great story. It's like, no, no, no, if your family thinks it's great or your family thinks it's funny, then it's probably a great story.

Yeah. Yeah. I was just like, what's mine? And I'm like, Oh, my cousin Mitch on prom night threw up in the limo and they had to pay $200. And this is like in the 80s, how to pay, like he's never lived that down. The equivalent of $1,000 I bet. Yes, absolutely. Like crazy. From drinking, by the way, from drinking. Mine is that I walked away from my family in Disneyland

on our big trip to Disneyland when I was five because I was so scared on Pirates of the Caribbean and then we got in line for the Jungle Cruise and I thought they were making me go on Pirates of the Caribbean and then we got in line for the Jungle Cruise and I thought they were making me go on Pirates of the Caribbean again. So I just left. You're like, fuck this shit. I'm out.

I'm gone. And then of course it was a complete meltdown that like family vacation, everyone was all stoked and suddenly it's like Karen's missing. She's been stolen, blah, blah, blah. Oh my God, a nightmare. Yeah. Okay.

Summer Jam 73 story and then it says a dad on fire, literally. Hello, I sent this in ages ago, but with the recent episode, and it's number 406, my husband's lovely wife. Thank you for pointing that out about Summer Jam at Watkins Glen. Remember the couple who went missing? I figured I'd give it a whirl again. This is my dad's time to shine. I could fill a book with stories from his wild hippie days, but in interest of time and now relevancy, I'll share just my favorite. In the summer of 1973, my 20-year-old dad and his friends packed into a big van and drove to upstate New York for the festival. Upon arrival, my dad crashed in the back of the van while the others went out to get the party started. He woke up from

his nap and stepped out of the van, stretching and yawning and still half asleep, only to be hit in the chest with a flaming can of gasoline that someone had thrown over their shoulder in a panic. What? I think they were starting a bonfire and a gas can caught fire and he threw it and just... Yeah, but who throws a fucking gas can towards, it's just.

Yeah, over their shoulder like, well, let's get rid of this. Yeah, exactly. As if there's just always nothing behind you. Right. It says, a drop, drop, and roll immediately went out the window and my dad took off running on fire. He says the crowd parted before him like the Red Sea.

I can only imagine the spectacle of a tall, skinny, long-haired and flaming man bombing through a crowded campground. LOLOL. Oh no. He kept going, Dallas friends who were chasing him, finally caught up and tackled him to the ground, putting out the fire,

but melting his clothes onto his skin. Oh shit. He still has the scars, but somehow at the time, this didn clothes onto his skin. Oh shit. He still has the scars but somehow at the time this didn't faze him and it says in parentheses drugs. Drugs. That's the explanation of this entire story. Yeah for real. Just the purest acid you have ever imagined. Yeah I bet those people that through the flaming gas can were just like someone's gonna love this. that through the flaming gas can were just like, someone's gonna love this. This will be great.

Keep someone warm. Yeah. And he stayed at the festival for days, partying to sets from the Grateful Dead, The Who, and other legends. It just didn't even cross the blood brain barrier that he had fucking burns. But burnt skin.

Yeah. That's crazy. Yeah, I could see. He's always talked about the Grateful Dead sound check from the night before the festival as being one of the best shows he ever saw and was totally vindicated when Far Out Magazine wrote a story about that very set. So interesting, right? Far Out Magazine.

Yeah. Stay sexy and don't pour gasoline on an open flame. Carry. Yeah. That's open flame. Carrie. Yeah, that's great advice. Oh, Jesus. Fucking hippies, man. Yeah, what a time.

There's never gonna be a time like that again. No. Because, you know, insurance and all the lessons that we've learned, I guess, along the way. And then you have to worry that someone's filming it for their fucking Instagram account, too. Yeah, you become like a hilarious viral video as your shirt's burning onto your skin.

So lucky. Ha ha ha. Are they? Hey, I just got us a new Coca-Cola spice. Nice. What's it taste like? It's like barefoot water skiing while dolphins click with glee. Well, let me try.

Nah, it's like gliding on a gondola through waving waters as a mermaid sings. Nah, it's like Coca-Cola with a refreshing burst of raspberry and spiced flavors. Yeah. Try new Coca-Cola spiced today. In today's economy, saving money is like an extreme sport. Coupon Clipping!

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Stack more, spend less. Happy Stack, only at Kudo. Conditions apply. The subject line of this email is Naughty Pony. And it says, hello women who keep me company in the car so I don't need to hear my thoughts and various pets. You asked for bad dog stories, which I don't have, but I do have a naughty pony. Growing up, my mom worked in the horse industry,

and then in parentheses, yes, that's a thing. So I was super, super lucky and had a rotating cast of ponies growing up. Most were on their way to finding a long-term home, but some of them stuck around. One in particular stood out as the naughtiest and funniest pony I've ever worked with. Toby was a fat black pony with wild hair

and questionable origins. He was low to the ground, sweet with kids, lazy, and had a mind that surpasses many of the adults I presently know. This pony would nab chocolate ice cream cones out of unsuspecting little hands. He ate an entire 12 inch Italian sub stolen from my sister. And yes, you're right, ponies really should meet me. No worries for Toby, though. He was indestructible.

Anyway, Toby figured out how to open the gate to his paddock. Not content with just being loose on his own, however, he would wander over to the field with the big horses, open their gate, and then lead a merry parade into the barn where he would open the bin with the grain, and they would all have a fabulous evening. My father busted him in the act, so naturally decided to change the snaps to close the gates, and put a handle with one of the thumb things on the feed bin. This was no match for Toby.

And within a week, he had mastered all of them and the mayhem resumed. He learned the new locks. My father, unwilling to be outsmarted by an animal who didn't come up past his hip, installed a very low voltage electric fence around all of the paddocks, including a section that needed to be unhooked

in front of the gate. And then in parentheses it says, yes, my sister tricked me into shocking myself several times. She is an email unto herself. I love that. The electric fence is like that's farm standard. And I will never forget the first time I like grabbed an electric fence Yeah, wire of an electric fence and I was just like I couldn't let go

And it's like it hurts and everything but it is the weirdest fucking feel when you finally let go You're just like I'm never going to do that. Yeah, let in your teeth almost your whole body Yeah, it's like the cartoon where your skeleton lights up like a lamp. Like that's truly how it feels. I have the suburban equivalent of my sister telling me to stick a fork in the fucking outlet. Sure. My sister told me to. Hey, she it was a great suggestion. Toby the pony looked that electric fence over said amateurs and unhooked it

using the small plastic bit meant to keep the humans from getting shocked and had himself another grain happy hour. We never figured out a way to contain him at our farm, but happily he never went farther than the food. Toby lived well into his 30s. And was loved by many children. I have many other Toby and silly other silly horse stories, if that's of any interest. Thank you for all you do. You've kept me company for years,

and I'm especially grateful for how you've helped me come to terms with my body dysmorphia, and that it's not that weird to always wonder how many bodies might be buried in that creepy guy's basement. Don't let the man contain you, SSTGM, Beth. Oh, that's guy's basement. Don't let the man contain you, SSDGM, Beth. Oh, Beth, I love it. That's a good one.

I wanna be friends with a horse, a smart horse. My cousin Stevie had a pony name. Ponies are a different thing altogether. And he had a pony named Sugar Babe. And she was, only he could ride her. He would go, you should ride Sugar Babe and we'd get on and she would buck us off immediately. Like she was the craziest little horse.

It's like, it's a whole kind of separate situation. Like it's so funny. I feel like cats, there might be a cat a little bit. I don't know. Like cats with the big teeth that will bite you. Right. Yeah. Yes, they are kind of like the cats with the big teeth that will bite you. Yeah, yes, they are kind of like the cats of the farm world. Yeah, like clever and then use it for good or evil. Yeah.

Okay, this one, my last one's called The Beast of Busco. What up ladies? This story is about a town in Indiana named Churibusco and why it is called Turtletown, USA. I recently moved from a big city in Indiana named Churibusco and why it is called Turtletown, USA. I recently moved from a big city in Indiana and let me tell you, the small town stories here are wild. This one I learned about from my husband who grew up in the area.

Back in 1890, a farmer named Oscar claimed to have seen a giant turtle the size of a boat living in his pond. Then 70 years ago, two guys saw a turtle weighing almost 500 pounds while fishing in that same pond. Then two roofers saw it, tried to capture it, and it broke their 300 pound net. The new owner of the property claimed to have seen it too and word spread. This turtle became nationally famous. Thousands of people were coming onto the property to try to see it. Planes flew overhead and this little town was clogged with traffic. Can you imagine? Because everybody wants to see a gigantic

turtle. What else is there to do? Get over here. The owner of the property vowed to try to capture it. The media named the turtle Oscar after the farmer who saw it first, and others called it the Beast of Busco. The city put together a turtle committee to oversee the monster's safe capture and hired skilled divers to search the lake. Professional turtle trappers from Tennessee, and it says, I mean, who knew that this was even a profession? Yeah, really?

I mean, sorry, but I'm a professional turtle trapper. Exactly. What? You're certified? Are you certified? Yeah, I'm that fast. And even put a 200-pound female turtle into the lake to try to lure the massive turtle out with love.

Nothing worked, not even love. So they finally drained the lake. Just, can it just be a fucking folklore? Yeah. It's just like we got to find it and high five it. Otherwise, what are we done with our lives? Get it out here. Make it eat ahead of cabbage.

We need this is we demand it. That's right. So they finally drained the lake over a couple of months to see what was at the bottom. Literally nothing. And the owner of the property finally gave up after running out of money. Someone had to fucking pay for the shit. Yeah.

But to this day the shops are all turtle themed as are the street names and murals. The town has a four day celebration every year called turtle days. I want to go to fucking turtle days don't you? Absolutely. It was just the one big turtle. It wasn't like a bunch of turtles. Nope. Just the one guy. Just the one guy.

Just the one guy made his fucking mark, even though he didn't exist, possibly. He never showed up. They have turtle races, judged turtle sculptures, and carnival rides, but driving through it now feels a little like a ghost town. I guess it's basically Indiana's Loch Ness monster, and some people still think they can find it.

And that's the whole story. Maybe next time I'll tell you how my uncle managed to sneak into every movie he's ever seen. My career in axe throwing is a second grader. The time my dog saved us from carbon monoxide poisoning. Oh, shit. My coworker getting chased out of his bedroom by a man carrying a machete,

or how my sister used to time me up and keep me in the dog kennel. Thanks for making it through this long and fairly anti-climactic story. I really had no one else to tell it to. Love ya, Sadie. Sadie, our pleasure. It was a delight that in any other story

you wanna send in. You know what's so weird? I have a cousin named Sadie and another cousin named Toby, their sisters. And so Toby from the horse story and Sadie from the story. Yeah. Well, that's it, right?

Oh, hey, that's it. Guys, it's over. Thank you guys for listening. If you want one more story from each of us, we have put those up in the fan cult for years. So that's actually, if you join now, you'll probably have hours and hours of one story from each of us, right?

Additional content of like secret emails. Get in there. By the way, we solved the JFK assassination, but we're not going to promise that. We can't advertise it. Allegedly. Allegedly. but we that's we're not gonna promise that yeah we can't advertise it allegedly allegedly stay sexy and don't get murdered give it to me

Elvis do you want a cookie? ahhhh this has been an exactly right production our senior producer is Alejandra Keck. Our editor is Aristotle Acevedo. This episode was mixed by Liana Scolacci. Email your hometowns to myfavoritmurder at gmail.com. And follow the show on Instagram and Facebook at myfavoritmurder and on Twitter at myfavemurder.

Goodbye!