Creepy - Day 27 - A Bad Night

Episode Date: October 27, 2020

It started with just one kid...***A Bad Night written by ShadowSwimmer77 and narrated by Nate Dufort***See your donation rewards at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKcUtw***Music by Steve Blizin***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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Creepy Presents The 31 Days of Horror Day 27 A bad night Written by Shadow Swimmer 77 And narrated by Nate Dufort You're making a mistake I'm sorry you feel that way

Mr. Monaghan Our decision has been made But there's nothing more to be said Your final check will be in the mail tomorrow Molly and I thank you for your services. Click. Jack Monaghan sat behind the desk in the dingy room that served as his office, staring at the now silent receiver held in his hand as if willing the voice at the other end to come back.

After a few moments, the phone started beeping, letting him know it was still off the hook. Jack resisted a strong urge to bash the thing to pieces against his desk, and instead, ever so carefully placed the receiver back on the cradle with a resounding click of its own. The sound echoed hollowly throughout the room, perfectly mirroring the empty feeling that had suddenly appeared in his gut. Damn it! He'd been so close. His right hand, almost of its own accord,

reached down to the drawer where he kept a bottle of cheap bourbon, half empty and seemed to be more so, and a glass that was only slightly dirty. He set the two next to each other on the desk, and after a moment's consideration, returned the glass to the drawer. He removed the top from the bottle and took a long swallow. A slow burning sensation traveling from his belly up to the base of his throat drove the empty feeling back ever so slightly. Jack sighed.

Drunk or no. Either way, this was going to be a bad night. The case had been about kids, but for Jack, had it started with just one. June Benson, eight-year-old daughter of Chase and Molly Benson, had gone missing after school one day, about three weeks ago. Her parents were decently well off, but no ransom or other demands had ever come.

The cops asked some questions at the school, filed some paperwork, and ultimately ruled her as a runaway. The Bensons weren't satisfied with that assessment, and it hired Jack to follow up where the uniforms wouldn't. Jack agreed with them that something smelled off. A little digging showed the rabbit hole went down a hell of a lot deeper than June Benson. Carefully applying some financial lubrication,

Jack got one of his old contacts in the department to spill the beans. There were a lot of kids had gone missing in the last two months, almost three dozen all told. Part of the reason for the general lack of panic was that most of the kids were low-income, if not outright homeless. On top of that, Jack's contact heavily hinted that there was pressure from a very long way up the food chain to keep a lid on the cases and sweep each and every one of them under the rug. That thing that smelled off started to stink like a fish market. Jack hit the streets.

He went to June's school and the surrounding apartments. Then, finding nothing, he rolled up his sleeves and waited into the scum on the other side of the city. He canvassed the halfway houses, the tent city under the Eastbrook Bridge, the wakeside slum where cops would only go in force. Everywhere he went, he asked the same questions. Has anyone seen anything? Does anyone know anything? Does anyone know about these missing kids?

For a week, he was disappointed, until finally he got a bite. The informant was a bit. obviously a junkie, and was even more obviously looking for a fix. But he said he'd seen something, namely two goons and suits shoving a black bag over a young boy's head and throwing him into an unmarked van outside a crack house the junkie had been flopping at. What's more, and what earned him the twenty bucks in Jack's outstretched hand, was he'd heard one of the goons say a name, Marx

Suddenly, the pieces began falling into place. Graydon Marks was the owner of a pharmaceutical subsidiary that kept a production plant outside a town. It made a sick kind of sense that Marx might have decided to take kids as unwilling, unpaid subjects for new drugs they were testing. And he was one of the only individuals

with both enough political and monetary a very poll to keep the mayor's office and police department on lockdown. Granted, it was a long shot, and June didn't fit the profile the rest of the missing kids, but Jack had been desperate to find even the thinnest thread to follow. The plant lay on a sprawling property outside of city limits where Marks kept a house that served as his primary residence when he was in town. Jack had been surreptitiously staking the place out for the last three days. and had seen several unmarked vans driven by pairs of suit-wearing tough guys coming and going from the main entrance of the compound.

He'd planned on taking a closer look tonight. But then, when he'd been at the office getting ready to head over to the plant, Chase had called him out of the blue and said, Thanks, but they wouldn't be needing him to keep looking into June's disappearance after all. End of discussion. Jack leaned back in his chair and looked into the bottle, pensively swirling the bourbon around the bottom. Fuck it.

He came to the decision abruptly, standing up and slamming the bottle down onto the desktop. He hadn't known the Benson's for long, but this was completely out of character. Something was up, and damn it, there were kids at risk. He might not be getting paid to follow up the lead, but Jack's conscience wasn't going to. and to let him just sit and get wasted.

He took his overcoat from the back of the chair and threw it on before reaching into the other drawer where he kept Cheryl. The cold 357 was a thing of beauty, and he did a quick check to make sure each of her six cartridges were loaded before sliding her into his shoulder holster and slipping a box of spare shells into his jacket pocket. With that, he stepped out into the hallway and resolutely locked the door behind him.

Dark clouds covered the pale winter moon as Jack moved the car to the side of the road and pulled into a small clearing he had discovered earlier in the week. He got out and hastily removed a tarp from the back seat and threw it over the car. In the dark, the vehicle would be effectively invisible to anyone on the road. It had been steadily snowing for the last few hours, so he briefly went back to the road and did his best to cover the tracks. leading into the clearing. It stopped about a mile short of the entrance to the compound,

with only one road leading in or out and no other turnoffs. Getting too close wouldn't serve for any kind of sneaking. The approach to the plant was thick with trees, so Jack would be able to stay in the woods, but keep in sight of the road to guide his path. Wrapping his coat more tightly about himself against the cold, he started trudging towards the compound. A strange moaning caused him to start,

his hand flying under his coat to rest on Cheryl. Jack scanned around him, heartbeating wildly. The trees in their stark nakedness reached out into the bleak sky like the fingers of the damned, a light wind causing them to creak and groan in their torment. Otherwise, all was silent. Despite the cold, a slow, beat of sweat rolled down Jack's nose, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention.

After a few moments, he turned and continued his track. His hand remained on the butt of the revolver. He reached the perimeter fence without incident. He had scouted the area and found an expansive fence where the trees masked the view of the security cameras and was out of sight of the main gate. Earlier today, he had used to the a pair of wire cutters to make an entrance. Slightly winded as he squeezed through the fence, days like this served to remind him that his youth was a distant memory.

Jack cursed under his breath as he felt sharp edges of wire catch on his coat. Then he was in. Jack's reconnaissance hadn't let him work out at the patrol patterns of any security guards, but now he saw he needn't have worried too much. In fact, Other than the guards in the shack at the main gate,

there didn't seem to be any physical security on the grounds. He decided to start looking at the house. Making his way across the snowy terrain, Jack saw the residents atop a low hill a couple hundred yards ahead, light glaring from every window. He crept closer, doing his best to use the trees that dotted the yard to mask his approach. He stopped behind the closest tree,

and was considering how to proceed when the front door opened and three figures stepped outside. The first Jack knew only by reputation, but the oily sheen that emitted from his two wide smile identified him as Graydon Marks. Jack's jaw dropped when he saw the people behind Marks were Chase and Molly Benson. Jack was just close enough to hear the end of their conversation. Can we see her, Mr. Marks? Oh, presently, presently, my dear Chase. In fact, that's where we're going now. Come along. The millionaire switched on a large industrial flashlight and led the Benzons around behind the house. Jack followed, silent as a shadow. At first, Jack assumed they would be going to the pharmaceutical plan to the west of the house. But soon, found he was mistaken. Instead, Marks walked directly south,

straight into the woods that were even thicker than those through which Jack had approached the compound. They walked for maybe 20 minutes, Jack's struggling to stay quiet and keep the bouncing beam of Mark's flashlight in sight. After a time, he could see a strange flickering ahead, which, once they got close enough, He could identify as a roaring bonfire set in a small clearing.

He stopped about 50 feet short of the fire and hit himself behind a tree. He could see the Bensons were agitated, Molly clinging to her husband. Chase obviously enraged, shouting at Marks. What's the meaning of this, Marks? You said you were taking us to see our daughter. And so I have, Chase, so I have. She'll be here short. The fire, you see. We found it draws them. The millionaire smiled and moved to a tree at the

edge of the clearing. In a smooth motion, he hoisted himself up into a hunting platform set on the lower branches. Ah, here she is now. The pale shape of a little girl moved into the clearing. Jack recognized June from the pictures her parents had given him, but only just. Her once sparkling eyes were dull, and empty, lacking even the most rudimentary intelligence, her face slack. A dried reddish smear crusted around her mouth. The girl was dressed in rags, her hands and feet bare. She shuffled forward, almost stumbling into the fire, paying no mind to her parents or the heat.

Something was very wrong. Oh my God, baby! She. Molly Benson threw herself at the child, sweeping her up in a hug. Jack saw a look of ecstasy pass across the girl's face and a terrible hunger into her eyes, as she suddenly opened her mouth and sank her teeth into her mother's neck. Molly screamed and chased lunged for his wife as a fountain of blood erupted, washing June's face in gore. The girl rode her mother to the ground, worrying at the wound like a wild animal.

Jack felt the world lurch. Chase was struggling to pry June off Molly when Jack saw other small shapes had entered the clearing. Chase didn't notice until the things that had once been children were practically on top of him. And by then, it was far too late. Jack turned and ran. He sprinted through the forest, mindless now of the noise he was making. his only thought on escape. Branches reached out and tried to tangle his arms.

Stone sought to trip him up. Abruptly, a root caught his foot and sent him tumbling head over heels. His head met a tree with a sickening thud. Then, blackness. When he awoke, the first thing he noticed was the pain. Next, the cold. Shaking his head to try to clear it. Jack looked around.

He'd been stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers. His hand secured with rope to the trunk of a tree above his head. To his front, Marks stood in the clearing. The bonfire burning merrily behind him, two piles of rapidly cooling red and flesh-colored pulp pouring steam into the frosty air at his feet. He held Cheryl in his hands, the revolver glinting cruelly on the firelight. I'm Mr. Monaghan, good, you're awake, he smiled.

You have my admiration. Commendable detective work these past few weeks. If not the most discreet, he clicked his tongue. I hope you didn't think you were being especially sneaky, he sighed. Still, it would have gone easier for you if you would have just taken the hint when I had the Bensons let you go. They were so frantic at the thought of being. reunited with their daughter, they were fully prepared to do any little thing I asked.

But here we are. I must say, this is truly an excellent firearm. He admired the magnum for another moment before pointing in at Jack and pulling the trigger. The sound was enormous. A blossom of agony roared up Jack's leg and then dulled. When he opened his eyes, he saw the shone. shattered ruin that had once been his right foot. Mark stooped down in front of him. Must be going, old chap. I'd tell you to simply walk away from this, but you've squandered that opportunity

already, and, well, it'd be quite impossible now for a multitude of reasons. He inclined his head towards Jack's destroyed foot. However, as I've confessed my admiration, I've decided to be to give you a sporting chance. There's a very realistic possibility you'll bleed out before the children get hungry again. Good luck. With that, he walked out of the clearing into the darkened woods. Jack lay there in the snow.

The white around him, slowly turning red, his eyesight fading. The dull pain that had been emitting from his foot gradually built to a crescendo, At the edge of his vision, he could just make out a small shape entering the clearing and slowly shuffle towards him, soon followed by another. He began slipping into unconsciousness as he felt the first tiny questing hand start to explore his exposed freezing flesh.

His last thought, before his entire world was consumed by his first time. blackness and pain, was that? He guessed he'd been right at the office after all. Either way, this was going to be a bad night. From the Patreon Vault. Creepy Presents. Turn the crank. If you ever wondered why certain shows were off-limits to you as a child,

probably because of swearing, sexual content, the occasional use of the word penis, right? Well, that is true, but there's a deeper layer than that. For me, anyway. It all started when I was around six or so. At that age, I loved to do everything that was exactly opposite of what I was supposed to do. If you said, don't touch the cake, I made it for your aunt's wedding, I'd probably end up devouring the entire thing in one sitting. So obviously, when my mother told me not to watch the adult swim portion of Cartoon Network's lineup,

I made my goal to watch it every single night. I had gotten away with it for a few nights. Every night I would sit on the floor with the television remote in hand, giggling at how I was getting away with going behind my mother's back. Unfortunately, my fun didn't last forever. I would say I'd only been sneaking to watch the channel for about a week or two before my mother began to catch on. It started with her noticing that my various stuffed animals would be left on the floor

in front of the television at night. Then she began noticing that I was more sluggish than usual, a huge sign pointing to the fact that I hadn't been sleeping. But at last straw was when she finally caught me with my face glued to the television screen. I can't recall what was on the screen exactly, but I do remember the word penis being repeated over and over in a chant-like phrase. Looking back, that could easily have been any adult swim show that's ever aired. I mean, just the other day I was watching a Mission Hill episode where some pervert whispered the naughty word over and over into a payphone.

Who knows? Maybe that's what I was watching then. Anyway, none of that matters now. Really, it didn't matter to me then. All that mattered to me then was that I was just caught doing something I was strictly forbidden not to do. So, I did what every other six-year-old caught with a little. their hand in the cookie jar would do. Cry.

I could easily contribute all the throat problems I have today to that night. I'm pretty sure I busted a few things in my throat from crying so hard and long, begging for my mother's forgiveness. She stood firm in her decision, giving me an old-fashioned spanking before sending me straight back up to bed. It was always hard to make my mother angry, but once you did she could turn to be a real witch

at least that's what I thought then I actually appreciate being set right when I was after that night I vowed to never watch adult swim again that of course was just one of many childhood vows I made to myself like when I got the stomach cake from eating too much and I vowed to never eat chocolate cake again I probably could have kept that promise that the show's not kept her playing in my mind

They were so different from the shows my mom wanted me to watch. They were daring and forbidden, something I craved even as a child. Not only that, but all my friends were watching these types of shows at school, even though we were only in the first grade. About a week or so had passed after I'd gotten caught. My dad had finally come for a visit. My parents had gotten divorced not too long after I was born, so I only got to see my dad when he'd come out for a visit.

It was the first time I'd seen him in nearly a year, so I couldn't wait to hear the stories he had to tell. My dad was always on the go with his job, traveling all around the country to chase storms. Why he enjoyed something like that, I'll never know. But to each his own, I guess. Anyway, after listening to what felt like a never-ending number of stories about tornadoes, another storm phenomenon, it was finally my bedtime. Luckily, I wasn't confined to the usual 8.30 curfew when my dad was visiting, so my mom let me stay up as long as I wanted. My dad had always been a pushover when it came to give me anything I wanted. I think he felt guilty for never being able to see me except for once every year or two.

So, when it was near one in the morning, he had no problem staying up to watch television with me. I sat in front of the television with a smirk on my face. I knew that my dad would let me watch whatever I wanted, especially since he was an avid fan of nearly every adult cartoon on the market. I even recall wearing his South Park shirts, which easily draped down past my feet when I was at age. My mom never liked that too much either, but I just chalked it up for her being too overprotective. Okay, I'm trailing off into my life the miniseries, so let's get back on track. I asked as sweetly and politely as I could, the best pout on my face I could muster, if we could watch a new show I found.

I told him the channel. He didn't hesitate to turn it over, even though I'm positive he knew no kitty shows were playing at that time of night. I remember I received a jolt of the same feelings I had prior to my mom pulling the plug on me after hours of television fun. I felt excitement, mischief, and all that subtle sense of fear that I always got from watching those cartoons. You have to admit that most of the stuff that plays on those lineups can be pretty scary to a six-year-old. During the commercial break, I heard my dad snoring his signature snore that could have easily been used in place of a foghorn. I was irritated by this, so I slid closer to the television in order to be able to actually hear the show. I sat there, watching whatever show was on for a few minutes.

I started to feel my excitement fade and be replaced with that feeling with paranoia, which I often got when I saw these types of shows on television. I kept looking over my shoulder, making sure the characters weren't there. Why? I don't know. I was a sensitive kid and the stupid things would scare me. I do remember the screen cutting from the show and trying to show and transitioning to a black screen, which was pretty normal for adult swim as they usually began commercials this way and had many commercials where the logo of the channels displayed on

the screen of black. This always caused my heart to stop a little. I hated the feeling of stillness and the silence of those commercials as a kid. It always made me feel uneasy. For some reason, the feeling was a little more intense this time. Not anything that would make me bolt out of the room yet. I was sitting in the silence with that feeling growing stronger each second that the logo didn't appear. I noticed it was taking longer than usual. As if the station had gone into dead air. The screen jolted at that point, which I thought was a sign that the logo was going to appear.

A logo did in fact appear. But it wasn't the logo I'd come to expect from the previous times I'd watch the channel. It was a simple logo, scrolled over the center of the screen with white lines. It wasn't too fancy, but the cleanliness and sharpness of the lines definitely made up for it. It was hard to tell what the logo was at first as it just seemed to be a bunch of criss-crossing lines held within a thick box. It looked a lot like the National Geographic logo if it had all the color drained. As the logo began to fade into the black, the sound that you usually hear before most movies of the 90s, I believe that's the THX sound effects.

Blared. I was surprised it didn't wake up my dad. We now present our feature presentation. A man boomed, sounding a lot like the person that narrates over movies in the theaters. You know, the man who tells you to shut off your cell phone and buy loads of popcorn and candy. Instantly, I felt tons better. I figured that this was just how adults when presented their movies. And after a day of watching nothing but Disney, I was a good.

excited to see shows and movies all my first grade friends got to watch. The only thing I could think about was bragging to my friends that had seen an adult movie on the Forbidden Channel. Not to be mistaken with porn, guys. The movie started with little droplets falling from a darkened sky. In the mixture of the translucent rain with droplets of scarlet, although it looked a lot more like the paint that's packaged in those old paint by numbers. then again you really can't expect much more than that from a low-budget adult swim film

plus blood wasn't exactly rare amongst their programs it was just another reason why my mom didn't allow me to watch the station after the shower of rain and blood one of the main characters could be seen from a bird's eye view their hair was a rich and vibrant purple color however the color was faded The rain seemed to be washing it away, as you could clearly see purple dribbles sliding down the character's body. The scene caught up close to the character's face. It was a young woman cartoon character. Her eyes were nothing more than slits of black, resembling an electrical outlet.

Actually, she herself resembled a huge electrical outlet, which was carried along by tiny sticks for legs and arms. Imagine the legs and arms from the SpongeBob Square Pants episode Franken Doodle. That's the best way I know how to describe it. Her pitiful excuse for an arm lifted upward, the camera panning up the span of the stick, zooming upward until you could see a glass window. For whatever reason, her reflection wasn't present in the mirror. But as a kid, I didn't have to give that much thought. Perhaps if I'd paid attention to that detail,

it would have unnerved me more than it did. While I felt a little frightened by the sharp camera angles over simplified character designs and the eerie piano music droning in the background, I was still determined to watch the movie in its entirety. I didn't want to face another day of school of being called a mama's boy and a chicken because I hadn't watched things that were far out of my age range. The piano music was like it was coming from one of those old, busted record players. In fact, it was.

As a camera panned up to the window, it steadily began to fade into the glass. It wasn't showing the contents of the room behind the window. It was actually showing the inside of the glass. Once inside the window, you could see an overweight character, drawn far differently from the female outlet. He almost resembled Santa Claus, having a long white mustache jutting from his upper lip and curling at the end. Those are rosy red cheeks that looked as though they'd burn your hair if you touch them. The twinkling baby blue eyes that glistened as if they'd been made glass themselves. This detailed drawing of a rip-off Santa stood next to a table that was considerably out of proportion to him.

Sitting upon the table was an old record player. The base was fashioned from beautiful blocks of wood, detailed with small bits of gold. The man turned the small crank on the side of the box. creating the music that sent chills straight through my bones. At six, I was used to things like Mary had a little lamb. Not the type of music that was played at funerals. Turn the crank. Turn the crank.

He suddenly sputtered as a camera zoomed into his hand turning the crank. The motions were agonizingly slow, forcing me to feel the stillness of the moment. Turn the crank. turn the crank. I was beginning to feel less thrilled and more anxious. I took a moment to slide closer to the couch when my dad was fast asleep, completely oblivious to the content on the television. When I slid, a long cracking sound was heard.

It dragged on for what felt like a lifetime. Growing louder and louder as it continued. I turned back to the screen when the sound caught my attention. The crank that the unnamed character was turning was being wound tighter and tighter, straining the gorgeous wooden bass. The bass began to reveal tiny cracks as the crank turned. The cracks grew larger, the sound grew louder, and the crank grew weaker. Turn the crank, turn the crank.

The cheery man shouted with a creepy, joyful voice. I could only assume he had a smile on his face, but the turn the crank. The only thing the camera would show was the record player slowly collapsing upon itself. Turn the crank! Turn the crank! My eyes were beginning to fill with tears. I remember how loud noises would always upset me when I was younger. I was an odd child.

Neither silence nor noise pleased me. If it was too silent, I'd be scared. If it was too noisy, I'd be equally scared. Unfortunately for me, this movie had already manipulated both of those childhood fears. I teary eyes widened as the next scene of the movie took place. The beautiful record player finally gave out, the crank breaking apart in the jolly man's hand. The remaining bits of the record player began to sputter a violent amount of smoke, which surprisingly only hover around the player, leaving every other inch of the room untouched. No more must I turn the crank, the man whispered.

The camera focusing on his screen. face and his face alone. His cherry-colored cheeks were growing pale and his glimmering eyes began to lose their luster. Suddenly those once sparkling blue eyes shattered, shards of glass falling to the floor. I was surprised that they didn't fling into the screen. They just sort of fell from the man's eye sockets. I later figured that the rain at the start of the film had actually been the glass falling from his face. The lonesome girl has finally sank. The screen caught to an abrupt moment at darkness, but only long enough to fade into the next scene. There was another bird's-eye view of the street where the female character had been walking at the beginning of the film. There were shards

of glass completely coating the street below. All you could see were the very tops of some of the buildings, which were all tinted, with a very rusty shade of crimson because of the massive amount of broken glass. The camera began to lower the view, zooming in by showing chopily cut frames, each one closer to the mess than the last. As the last frame was presented, I could see the outlet-like character from the beginning, laying motionless in the midst of the glassy sea. The shards that surrounded her body were a pale shade of purple, obviously caused by the color that would completely drain from her hair. By this point, I was bawling my eyes out. I may have been young, but I knew what a dead person looked like.

I knew for sure that girl was dead. No one could survive being pelted by such an enormous amount of glass like that. The scene changed at that point, showing a close-up of an hourglass. The camera was slowly, gently pulling away from the hourglass, which had grains of sand sliding through its midsection. It kind of reminded me that soap opera days of our lives. I'm sure you soap junkies know what I'm talking about. Only it was much more grim and against the colorless background. She's perfectly fine.

Now don't you fret. Thanks for watching my show kids. But you're not out of hell yet. At this point, I let out such a scream that my throat was still sore the next day. The scream was so sharp that it even forced my dad to bolt awake. He sat up to check on me, accidentally shifting his elbow into the television. remote and causing the channel to change. What I saw when the channel

was changed confused me even more than I already was. The logo for adult swim flashed upon the screen and the next show started. It was as if the television hadn't been on the cartoon network at all that night. But I had apologized for accidentally switching the channel,

hitting the recall button on the remote. I was too busy sobbing with fear to stop him. When the channel finally returned to the station that had aired that supposed movie, a message popped onto the screen. Programming not authorized. Please confirm that you are subscribed to the channel or unplug your receiver to resolve the issue.

If you continue to see this error, please contact your cable provider. We apologize for any inconvenience. The channel was apparently some type of late-night movie network exclusively to subscribe viewers. But that didn't explain I was able to watch an entire film on an unobesionable. authorized channel. How it got on that channel? I have no clue. I guess it's possible that my dad may have bumped the remote in his sleep, but I think I wouldn't notice the channel change. Instead, I only notice an adult swim show leaving for a commercial and then returning with that horrendous film. I slept in my mom's bed that night, trying to block the images from the film strip out of my mind.

The next morning I could hear my mom loudly discreet. Not letting me watch late-night television with my dad. Looking back on that night nowadays, the film wasn't half as bad as most of the anime's, crime shows, twisted cartoons, and morbid comics that I expose myself to. I guess I was just being silly and childish. But all children have horrifying experiences that wouldn't even make them flinch now, even though I have seen far worse. That film has left a bad impression in my mind.

I mean, I still enjoy watching Adult Swim to this day. And now I can do so without getting into trouble. But I'm definitely on high alert for anything overly suspicious. Not only with Adult Swim, but with Late Night Movies showing as well. I have no interest in ever seeing that film again. But I am curious about its title. I'd like to know the name so I can research any portion of the film. film I may have missed and possibly discover the voice actor behind that demonic Santa

like man. Maybe you guys can help me with that. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us at CreepyPod on Twitter, Instagram. All stories told on this podcast can be found at Creepy Pust. wikia.com and are protected by a Creative Commons license. Some rights reserved unless otherwise stated.