Last Podcast On The Left - Episode 224: Creepypasta XI - Lemon Clams

Episode Date: May 20, 2016

It's time for another Creepypasta episode! Tune in for stories about deadly rabbits, human meatloaf, homeless men, and a potatoes that are human, or humans that are potatoes, or something. Aftermath, Decay, Dhaka, Distant Tension, Spacial Winds, Ice Demon, Noise Attack, OctoBlues, Redletter, Return of Lazarus, Static Motion, The House of Leaves, This House, Unseen Horrors, Welcome to Horrorland, and Bet You Can ver 2 by Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 Li

There's no place to escape to. This is the last time. On the left. That's when the cannibalism started. What was that? Technically, if Frankenstein, the doctor, was Jewish, and Frankenstein, the monster, was his son, technically, he's not officially Jewish, because technically, the mother has to be Jewish. The wife of Frankenstein, we have to know what her religion was. Frankenstein's monster had a fucking wife. You're talking about the only person Dr. Frankenstein was fucking was Bent Igor. Oh, that's sad. You know they were fucking each other. Well, that's how he got the hunch. I heard that we definitely got a hint. You know what I'm saying?

Alright, so this is the last podcast on the left. I'm Ben Kissel. That is Marcus Parks. How are you, Henry? I certainly don't feel like I slept at a bus stop last night. That's great. I got a little bit of what someone maybe called a hangover. I'm a bit of a hangover, Henry Zabrowski, today, but guess what? I'm certainly not questioning everything. That's fine. Well, you know what helps hangovers? Carbs. And today we got a carbo load of horror in our creepypasta episode.

We have not done a spooky spaghetti episode in quite a while. We've covered such serious subjects. So what a fun palette cleanser this will be. It is fun. And what I like most about creepypastas is the effort that we're not put into writing them. Yes, but Marcus did amazing research. He did. And he found some great stories for us this week. Oh, yeah, there's a lot of crap out there as far as creepypasta goes. But there's some really fun stuff out there.

And I was able to find some pretty fun stories for us to read. Because you have the guys from SCP today that we'll talk about. Yeah, SCP, which is quality, quality creepypasta. High-Qual. It's real cool stuff. It's like fresh stuff from Mario Batali. Oh, Mario Batali, can you imagine how his feet smell in those clogs he wears? Big orange fucking rubber shoes and his tiny orange feet jammed in there covered in chef's sweat.

Think about that. That man uses his stiff, weird, wet hands to make pasta fresh for your faces. And you pay him $1,000 for it. In any other industry, it's considered, if you're large or if you're obese, it's considered kind of disgusting. Except for if you're in the culinary arts, they're like, well, you know he makes good food. He eats half of it. They never trust his skinny chef. That's right.

That is fucking true. But the thing is about Food Network, this is gonna be good to come stop for one second. It makes me really upset. Food Network said on a mandate would all their chefs have to lose weight. Are we doing real talk right now? I'm just saying. They must have made it. There's this real talk.

Food Network said on a whole mandate saying their chefs have to lose weight, which is why Alton Brown looks like a Holocaust survivor. And the problem is that you have to go back to being fat. If you're a chef, you should be fat. The problem is that Mario Batali looks like his body smells like Parmesan. Yes, it does. It does. It nipples like little pepperoons.

All right. So before we do this, like as this tradition then, I just want to make sure, so if you're at your office right now, slip off your underwear if you're a man. Go into the, I want you to go into the stall right now wherever you are in the office. I'm sure if you've worked in an office, you've sharded your pants before because I know I did. I had a bunch of Indian food and I sharded my pants at lunch. Go in the office.

I want you to take off your fucking dumpy khakis and I want you to pull off your underwear and I want to throw it out just so you feel free. Go back to your desk. If you're a woman, just look on your skirt for a second. Right? Just know that there, know that your vagina's there, know that your penis is there. All right? If you're at home, draw a bath, a cold one.

It's like you're sitting in a fucking bucket of farm water. And I want you to go and you pick some of the finest, thickest, orange-haired Garfield fucking toes that you got in your fucking collection, in your old cedar box and open it up and then get some fucking that cool new clear hemp paper. Have you seen that shit? It's pretty good. It's pretty good. It burns your fingers.

It's actually bad for the first smoking. Right there. But crumble it up, fucking, and toke it down, down to your fucking gnarly lips, you dogs. And we fucking get ripety-ripped because we're about to enter tentatively footstep by footstep into the graveyard world. That is creepypastas. Creepypastas. Okay.

Very nice. So now that you're sitting like a cold, stoned broccoli in freezing water, you can be nothing but comfortable. Am I first? Yes. You're first. This is a story called, I told you to smile by Hyux Hongbin 238. Thank you, Hyux Hongbin.

Hyux Hongbin. It was the 2nd of January, 204 a.m. I woke up to a knocking on the door. One knock every three seconds. I slipped on my slippers and walked down the stairs. As I walked down, the knocking on the door got faster, almost like a heartbeat. When I got to the door, the knocking stopped. I looked outside and nobody was there.

I went back up to my room and went back to bed, thinking it was about some kids playing a prank, which would have infuriated me. At 4.21 a.m., I woke up to the front door slamming shut. I jumped terrified. I looked over at my frosted window to find, smile, written all over it in the frost. I grabbed my phone next to me, ready to call 9-1-1, only to find a message written on it saying, I told you to smile. I cried and ran for my life, running outside of my home.

As soon as I got outside, I knocked on my neighbor's house across the road. They answered and held me while I sobbed. They phoned the police. At exactly 5.42, the police came to my neighbor's house after an extensive search of my house. They told me there had been no evidence at all of anyone in my house other than me. The messages on the window were gone, same with my phone. They told me to get some sleep and advise me to see the doctor about stress and anxiety problems.

Fuck that! I knew what happened to me was real. And I told those pigs to take their fucking hooves and walk back to their fucking cars. Fuck you! You're improvising. Fuck Ethoreal. I don't think you said that. Fuck him!

Doesn't seem to be written here. The following evening, after spending the day at my neighbor's, I went home. I went up to my bedroom and set up a camera. It was aimed at my bedroom door and my bed. I set it to record and went to sleep. Thankfully I slipped through the night, however as I watched the footage, I couldn't believe what I saw. At three in the morning, something crawled out from under my bed.

It was a completely naked, anorexic man. He stood up and looked at me on the bed. He did so for another hour, not moving at all. Then he moved. He walked over to the camera until his face took up the whole shot. He was extremely pale and had bulging veins all over his head. His eyes were completely black, with a huge smile on his face. He stared at the camera for another two hours, not blinking, just slightly twisting his head

every now and again. After two hours of him staring went past, he walked back over to my bed and crawled back under. I skipped the video forward until it showed me getting up and walking over to the camera. The video finished. I was frozen with fear. The video showed him going back under, but not leaving. Whatever it was, it was still there.

It was phone! Phone! It was phone! I thought it was Chris Helmsworth. Isn't that nice? He's getting skinny since he stopped being Thor. Oh, I love him as Thor. It's so funny.

I couldn't help but think if the tall greys do come to visit, how long would it take for them to develop an eating disorder? So fast. We were just like, you're anorexic. You need to eat. You're gross. We are a superior race. No, you're like too skinny.

We only eat as much as we need. No, you just... We only require as much energy as required to live. You need to carboload. You're skinny. Then there's just like earth shattered us and ourself esteem. We had so much confidence, but they don't respect brain power. One look at Scarlett Johansson and I knew how would I ever be as perfect as she?

It's the mass suicide of the greys because they can never live up to our health and beauty standards. Which are impossible. It is impossible. It is impossible. Because you know what? Legitimately impossible things at Photoshop. Right.

All right. And Lena Dunham being perfect. Oh, yes. Oh, she's a treasure, isn't she? God. She's a treasure. She's like if Winnie the Pooh had nipples. Oh.

Well, yeah. He didn't, did he? Huh. All right. So now it's my turn. Now this story is called Wrist Bands. It's a classic. Yeah.

This is a classic. All right. So Ben, that's my name, Wrist Bands. Yep. And we have no author. No, no, no. This is a classic one and it's been floating around for a while. Folklore.

Folklore. I see. All right. So this one starts off with all these words here. When you're admitted to a hospital, they place on your wrist a white wristband with your name on it. So then they know who you are. Yeah.

But there are no other, but there are different colored wristbands which symbolize other things. The red wristbands are placed on dead people. I don't think that's true. No, they are. Toe tags. They're toe tags. No.

But that's a different story. No, it's the concept of wristbands. The red wristbands, then they can go to, like, they can get backstage at, you know, at Bubble Shoes. Alice Cooper, where you just, like, sometimes they keep the dead back here. They're dying to get backstage. Red wristbands are like, I'm over 21 and I'm dead. I can drink a bunch of booze.

Okay. So the red wristbands are placed on dead people. There was a surgeon who worked on the night shift in a school hospital. He had just finished an operation and was on his way to the basement. He entered the elevator and there was just one other person there. He casually chatted with the woman while the elevator descended. When the elevator door opened, another woman was about to enter when the doctor slammed the close button and punched the button to the highest floor.

Pimp, pimp, pimp, pimp, pimp. You just hit it. Just... I think it's an aggressive move just standing next to a woman in a closed box. Well, I mean... You start punching the wall. Yeah. It doesn't matter how stressed you are.

You can still just push it with your finger. The button there. But he really went nuts. He was punching it. Surprise the woman rep... Okay. So now that... So the guy's punching the elevator door.

Yeah. And go to... This is how I hit your chance. This is how I hit your chance. Surprise the woman reprimanded the doctor for being rude and asked why he did not let the other woman in because he just closed the elevator doors right on her. And the doctor said, that was the woman I just operated on. She died while I was doing the operation.

Didn't you see the red wristband she was wearing? So he was a terrible doctor. We know that for a fact. The woman smiled, raised her arm and said, something like this. This is the brace that I wore to the hospital. I'm alive. Oh, okay. Oh, you were just dead.

Six flags. But she is something like this. You know what? It is. Something is... It's quite like that. Very cool. So the doctor was a terrible doctor and he was haunted by a patient.

And I actually think that's a great reward for any doctor who fails on the operating table. I think that doctors would spend a lot more time making sure that they did a better job if they were haunted by the ghosts of the people they killed. I agree. Well, I think it should be a temporary haunting though. No, no, no, no. They should be spending their lives bent with misery.

45 minutes tops. Otherwise, how are they going to concentrate on the next one? By making sure to fuck. They save the next one. Yeah, that's true. We're going to the Winchester House as a part of our trip from Los Angeles to San Francisco. What is that house? It is built by the heir of the Winchester Rifle family, Sarah Winchester, and it's basically

built about how her life was haunted by the ghosts of the victims of Winchester rifles that was invented by her husband. Interesting. The hammers must never stop. It's pretty sweet. Cool. Yeah. It's pretty brussef.

And you go in there and see that big kitchen. And she had a long dining room table and a lot of living rooms. Yeah. Isn't that nice. Yeah. It was that she could never let the construction of the building stop, that the hammers must never stop. So it's a really bizarre place, like doors that open to nowhere, these gigantic, just

none of it makes sense. It's like a big maze. And I've heard about this house for many years, and you hear about the idea, the staircases that go to nowhere and the doors that open to nowhere, and it seems like a cool idea. And then when you see it in person, it's really fucking haunting because it's really madness. Like before, it just sounds like a concept, but it's like there's a door that literally leads outside of the house. And it's stuff like if you just happen to be a blind news boy who's in there delivering

milk jugs that day because he, the milk jug I died of a fucking heart attack in his sleep, you go through the wrong door, you become another ghost of the Winchester house. Yeah. There was a whole swamp thing issue about it. Oh, awesome. Mr. Parks, it's your turn. Yeah. This one is from a website called SCP.

And it's really cool. What it is is that it's, the whole concept of the website is that there's this secret research facility that finds and captures cryptids and other strange macabre things. And all of them, like they write case files on all of them. Is it real? Yeah. Okay. It's on the internet.

It's on the internet. So this one, this is the case file for item SCP 173, object class, Euclid, description. Move to site 19, 1993. Origin is as of yet unknown, SCP 173 is animate and extremely hostile. The object cannot move while within a direct line of sight. Line of sight must not be broken at any time with SCP 173. Personnel assigned to enter container are instructed to alert one another before blinking. Object is reported to attack by snapping the neck at the base of the skull or by strangulation.

In the event of an attack, personnel are to observe class 4 hazardous object containment procedures. Personnel report sounds of scraping stone originating from within the container when no one is present inside. This is considered normal and any change in this behavior should be reported to the acting HMCL supervisor on duty. The reddish brown substance on the floor is a combination of feces and blood. Origin of these materials is unknown.

The enclosure must be cleaned on a bi-weekly basis. Special containment procedures. Item SCP 173 is to be kept in a locked container at all times. When personnel must enter SCP 173's container, no fewer than three may enter at any time and the door is to be re-locked behind them. At all times, two persons must maintain direct eye contact with SCP 173 until all personnel have vacated and re-locked the container. 173 recently identified as TV's Jaleel White.

Yes, I was going to say the Arby's Roast Beef sounds very similar to the procedure of getting that wet meat out of there. Getting the tongs to take it from its like weird like liquid bath. Gelatinous beginning stage. So gross. That's good though. I do like it. It's cool.

Yeah, I love that one. Henry, you got the next one. Item number SCP 261. Object class, safe. Description. SCP 261 appears to be a large black vending machine with no front glass panel and a small keypad on the right side. SCP 261 was recovered in Yokohama, Japan.

SCP 261 was brought to the Foundation's attention after an investigation of an urban legend about a magic vending machine that was circulating on the internet. SCP 261 was found in a back alley behind a large shopping center with a handwritten sign saying, Out of Oda, in Japanese tape to it. Why does it have an accent? It was written. It was written. It was written.

It was written. SCP 261 has no marks or identification of any kind and no locals remember when or how it came to be in its current location. Internally, SCP 261 appears to be a basic vending machine equipped to vent food and beverage items. After a key was made in the front door open, no abnormal materials were found and it was determined that SCP 261 has never actually contained any food or beverage items. The keypad, while connected and operating correctly, does not activate any of the dispensing mechanisms.

When money is placed into SCP 261 and a three-digit number is entered on the keypad, SCP 261 will vend a random item. It is unknown how these items will appear. However, SCP 261 will not operate when the door is open or when recording devices are placed inside. The number entered on the keypad has no effect on the item vended nor has any pattern been detected. Items are always some form of snack food and typically have bright attention grabbing packaging.

If SCP 261 is used several times in a short period of time and or large amounts of money are entered before an item is vended, SCP 261 will start to dispense bizarre items, while still food, their suitability for human consumption is often non-existent. Log of items vended during testing phase 8. The little bakery, 7 grain, a small tube the size of a candy bar with a green button made of aluminum, packaging in English, when the top is twisted off, a mass of quote-unquote dough is extruded, quote-unquote dough contains several enzymes and bacteria that have not yet been identified.

On contact with air, these cause the dough to rise and quote-unquote bake, killing the microbes in the process, produces a small round loaf of bread weighing 250 grams. Taste described as good, but chewy. Oh, so we're gonna criticize what's coming out of the magical enemy team, we're gonna review these things, we got fuckin'... It's good, but chewy. Jeff Sicarian is sittin' there, lemon clams, thick plastic baggy with a plastic tube on the side containing water and 12 clams, packaging and ditch.

Following on-package instructions, the plastic tube was cracked like a glow stick, liquid in the bag flashed to steam, venting from a hole that popped open in the top of the bag, slightly burning one researcher, an asshole. Steaming finished after 38 seconds, after which clams were found to be fully cooked and infused with a mild lemon flavor. On investigation, clams match no recorded species. Lemon clams. Well, lemon clams, I almost got food poisoning just reading that.

If you get clams from a vending machine, you deserve whatever comes. Just eat whatever comes out of a thing, you gotta feed it to dogs or monkeys. Of course! If the dog lives, you can try it. Alright, so this one is just unknown. It's a small mesh bag filled with small, multi-colored pyramids packaging in an unknown language. Pyramids found to be very hard and unpleasant tasting compared to chalk in taste and consistency.

When placed in hot water, pyramids open and produce strings that quickly dissolve, coloring the water the same shade as the pyramid. After ingesting the water, reported stomach cramps two hours later, but no other effects. They deserve whatever they get. Again, I wish you would just kind of like keel over, but... Unknown. Aluminum box with a small glass window on the side, and a large round button on the top, packaging in an unknown language.

Box is seamless, and appears to be filled with small, round animals covered in fur, each with three small paws and a single large eye. Pressing the button causes the inside of the box to rapidly become superheated, cooking the small animals alive. Muffled noises and scratching were heard for several seconds during the cooking process. After one minute, 30 seconds, the front panel opens and gives access to the now-cooked animals. Professor Cain volunteered to eat the animals, with no other researchers willing to do so. I'll do it.

No, don't. Yeah. Now, yeah, I haven't had lunch yet. Yeah. Yeah, all right. Taste described as crunchy and very spicy, with a small hint of beef. Of beef. Oh, wow.

So the first taste was crunchy. Yeah. So the first taste was like, crunchy. Yeah. Column squirrelems. Squirrelems. Beef-flavored squirrelems. Squirrelems.

Now with beef. Unknown. Tall, thin, aluminum can, packaging in an unknown language. Opening the can caused a chemical reaction with the liquid inside the can. Liquid is apparently not intended for oxygenated atmosphere and detonated violently, causing several injuries and killing two researchers. Testing discontinued and area cleared, testing area observed to smell like citrus for several days.

Well, that's the one you don't want. That's the one. Yeah. Put that on the log. Mm-hmm. So those are alien ones, right? Yeah, I think so. Either alien ones or multi-dimensional ones.

I like how it plays off the Japanese idea of the vending machine culture as well. Right. Mm-hmm. And how Japanese people fucking eat anything. Yeah, they get panties. They get liquid panties from there, too. I mean, the panties are in liquid. Yeah, but they don't even, they literally, those models don't wear them.

But those panties, they find out they rub fucking tuna can, empty tuna cans with them and then toss them in there. No, that's not true. Yeah. No, there's a picture of them wearing the panties. No, they're not wearing these panties. There's no way. Those girls are dead.

No, they're... All right. All right. Very good vending machine story. Yeah. Man, you know... Surprisingly, for a vending machine story, it's very good. Yeah, right.

Definitely written by a heavy person. I just didn't think about... I'm tired of every single thing that's in a vending machine at the office. I wish there was a magic one that gave me something weird. I've become bored with all the vending machines. I agree. Vending machines are very important to the office. Oh, Henry.

Oh, how passing. All right. So now I got to read a story. This one is called Homeless Man. No, okay. Yeah. So some... Okay.

So Homeless Man. That's the name of the story. Got it. Somewhere in New York City, there's an old homeless man missing both his legs from the knees down. Yeah. So that's kind of funny. And it's really sad because he sits in front of a foot locker.

Yeah. I mean, one of the great ironies. Okay. So this guy is missing both of his feet, both of his legs from the knees down, and he hangs out at a spot along the streets on the corner of Lexington in the East 21st near Gramercy Park, a nice area. Coach him after nightfall, give him some change, no pennies, no dimes, and ask him, what did you see on the other side?

He will then tell you all about his travels to the other realms and times where he lost his legs and how he lost his money. They're in that damn foot locker. Right. It is up to you whether to believe him or not, but as you listen, you'll find yourself being drawn in with every story. You must stay alert or the old man will notice your inattentiveness and with a scowl, he will stop imparting his wisdom.

All the wisdom that made him a homeless man with no legs. Wow. He did everything right. Okay. And with a scowl who will stop imparting his wisdom, he will chase you as fast as he can, tottering on his stubs. Which is the correct word for running on stubs. Yes.

Tottering on his stubs. The other reason why you must stay alert is to check on the time. Before midnight, you must interrupt him, do not let him finish whatever story he is telling you at the moment, and say, I've heard enough old man, good day and good luck. Then walk away. Make at least two left turns around the block before going about your business. You must do this because anyone who has stayed to listen past midnight is never seen again. At least not in this particular plane of existence.

Thank you for clarifying. Maybe they just got a job at the foot locker. All right, so that one is really, I mean. You can literally do that to any homeless man you see with no legs, because they always have a story. But most of the time, the story is, you know, big problem, dig the lollipops, diabetes comes like a thief for the night, and all he yearns for is your precious, precious feet. Yes.

All right. This next story is called the wonders of tubers. Ever since I was young, everyone has commented on the fact that I look just like a giant potato. Strangely, they've never considered the possibility that I am a giant potato. I was born in an abandoned thrift way just one mile from a local nuclear meltdown. My skin was spotted with deep, wet holes. Those were my wonderful ear tubers.

During that time, I was quite content just listening. It was so peaceful, but then I sprouted my first eye tuber and saw how complex the world really was. I needed to explore it, but how? Limeless and round, it seemed impossible, fret not, dear readers, for soon I would discover the miracle and majesty of tubers. With just three stout tubers, I was easily able to roll myself out of that place and on towards adventure.

Much later, I would encounter my first humans, a gang of children playing in some fields. I watched them, saw how they moved, propelling themselves on two legs and happily grabbing each other. When they left, I was so alone. I wanted to do what they did and soon I could, once again, with the magic of tubers. I sprouted two thick appendages for legs and two long squishy ones for arms. I stood seven foot five inches and I was glorious. When the children returned to play, I was ready to join in.

They sure were surprised to see me. I chased them through the field for hours. They cried and screamed and I listened so carefully and soon I was crying and screaming right along with them. We taught each other so much that day. They taught me the importance of companionship in this cold, cold world and I taught them how to grow those wonderful tubers. On their hands, their feet, even their eyeballs, big, gushing, bony tubers.

They're still out there, playing with their tubers. They've gotten so good at it that they barely look human anymore. All they've bothered keeping is their screaming holes, which they exercise constantly. I always scream back as a courtesy. So whenever I meet a human in some secluded place and they offer that same old comment and that same trembling voice that humans just seem to have, why I just stretch my massive screaming hole as wide as I can and whisper, tubers. So he thinks he's really just being the class clown.

He's being fun. He's a wear potato. And I think a wear potato is a good thing to call somebody that you don't like. Sure, but it does seem like he likes the children. He loves the children. He's just misunderstood. Yeah, and so whenever he talks, he screams. I mean, we could live in a world where laughter implies suffering and screaming implies happiness.

Yeah, he's the lini of potatoes. The beginning definitely reminds me of one from Metallica, like him like eyes opening. Doctors, impertinent, all that I see, that would be pretty sweet. Well, you know what? Metallica left out of that song. Thank you for your service. Thank you for your service. Thank you for your service.

This is a story called Curiosity. The detective escorted the parents through the mortuary. I'm so very sorry for this. I have to warn you, this will be a rather large shack. You need to prepare yourselves. He led them to one of the metal drawers and pulled it open, revealing a small body wrapped in white material. Are you ready?

He asked slowly and reluctantly they nodded. When he pulled aside the sheet, the woman fell down to her knees, crying and retching. The husband lowered himself to her level and buried her face into his chest, squeezing his eyes shut in a failed attempt to remain stoic and calm for his wife. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He cleared his throat and quietly choked out a few barely audible words. That's...that's her...that's our girl. On the table lay a small child around the age of eight.

Her face, arms, and shoulders were half eaten, with tiny rodent bite marks scattered across her skin. Stiff white hairs littered her torn dress and matted blonde curls. On the half of her face that remained intact was a joyful, delighted smile, frozen for the rest of time. How...gasp the man. His wife continued to ball into his shirt, soaking it with her tears. The detective hesitated, we pulled her out of a sewage pipe.

One arm was pinned to her side, the other outstretched in her face and shoulders. You can see her. The man stared blankly at the detective, who slowly continued. We're not sure when Animal was responsible for this, but, uh, Forensic said it might have been rabbits. Well, I'm not sure why rabbits would act like this, but, uh, especially when the girl was still, uh, he stopped himself from continuing. Why did we name her Alice?

The mother sobbed hysterically into her husband's shoulder. We could have named her anything else, anything in the world. As the man began to sob as well, he placed a hand on his wife's head. In his other hand, he held a tightly crumpled note with an untidy, childlike scroll that read, I'm gonna find my rabbit hole, I know you'll miss me and I'm sorry, but don't be sad, I'm in Wonderland. And she got to meet Tim Burton, and she got to hang out with Johnny Depp.

Heather Bonham, go ahead. What's your Bonham Carter? Bonham Carter, yeah. What's her first name? Helena. Helena Bonham Carter. She's there. Uh-huh.

Johnny Depp will smoke at her? So cool. He lives in France in a castle. Yeah, he's got armpit hair all over his body. Cool. Don't name your kid Alice, otherwise she'll get eaten by a bunch of rabbits. I say this is again, I mean, not to victim blame, but if you do it, if you go and get killed by a bunch of rabbit rabbits, if that somehow happens to you, you deserve it.

It's like I saw a man on the train the other day that he said, he held his board out. He was like champion violin player, he said accident rendered him careerless because he lost both of his hands. Yeah. And he gets to a point in my head, well, if you're a champion violin player, you'd think you'd avoid any situation where you could get into an accident that would make you lose both your hands. No, he got a job as a chainsaw salesman and he really messed up.

Wait, both of his hands, so he was just kind of, so he was, did he have the cup in a string around his neck? No, he was co-pinching it with his stubs. Yeah. I don't know how you wrote the sign. Well, that's a good question. Very good penmanship. Hey, just because he has no hands does not mean he does not have friends and family.

But I would imagine, I mean, I don't know, we would have a hard time being friends if we all stop having hands. If all three of us stopped having hands, we would have to be friends, we would have no choice but to be friends. How would we put on belts? I don't think you have to worry about looking any which way. I would just wear gloves. Claws.

I'd be like, oh, definitely on hands. We'd get claws. Yeah, that's exactly what I would do. Yeah, that's a thing. You could get two hands. All I think of is Ash from Evil Dead, where I would just like, I just want to insert my hand into a chainsaw and that would be me. Just duct tape a fucking clothing hanger to your hands.

Yeah, whatever. Whatever. Always getting into people's car windows. This one is called Try the Meatloaf. It was a wet, cold, and cloudy day in New York City back in 1943 that a man walked down a street. He held an umbrella as it rained out. The man approached a dark, abandoned, old building and was all boarded up.

It was a downpour outside, so the man pushed the door of the old building open and slid inside. He closed his umbrella and walked further into the dank, wet depths of the building. He heard water dripping somewhere. The man suddenly heard the sound of a meat cleaver chopping up meat downstairs. It's like radio, it's like old-timey radio. And I'm the sound guy, I'm Michael Winslow, a police account. He looked down a dark staircase at the back of the room.

Okay. That's not... That's eyeballs. That's eyeballs creaking in the skull. Yes. The man slowly walked down the stairs into the basement. Hello, he called out. All of a sudden, there was a thing in the basement with eight limbs and had rotted red

flesh, had a tattered white apron on, glowing blue eyes, fangs and claws on his eight rotted red hands, as well as his two rotted red feet. The monster had pointed ears and roared silently. So he yawned. The creature also had a long dragon-like tail. The being was chopping up a hunk of meat on a little, long wooden table with a meat cleaver. The man gasped in horror and noticed bones and a human skull down at one end of the long wooden table.

The monster stopped, slicing the chunk of meat and looked directly at the man. Try the meatloaf. The creature told him in a quiet voice and then roared. The man screamed and ran out of the basement, upstairs, out of the building, opening his umbrella and running away as fast as he could. Some people don't like meatloaf. What the hell is wrong with this guy? It's human.

It's people. Yes. The meatloaf is people, man. Still, he's just trying to be sweet. Try the meatloaf. He's just trying to be sweet. He's special for the day. He's got this guy in.

He's chopping up. He's like, when I had the deviled kidneys from those suckling pigs I got at this restaurant in Atlanta. So gross. The chef came to the table and he's just like, the chef got four lovely suckling pigs in this morning and he wants to do something fun with the kidneys. I was like, please bring them to me in the final step. So disgusting.

No, but he said, try the meatloaf and then he screamed at him. I know. He was actually nicer than me. Try the meatloaf. I mean, that's a thing. I didn't say be the meatloaf. Well, I think you become the meatloaf after you try the meatloaf, maybe. Unless you try the meatloaf, maybe then you just become his sous chef.

Yeah. I don't know. I just always think of Monsters Inc. Yeah. You know, and they were so sweet. Do you always think of Monsters Inc? I always think of Monsters Inc. Even like mid-sex.

Oh, yeah. Billy Crystal's voice pops into your head. Yeah. It's the Saturday night. You just keep saying to yourself, let's see, about as you come. So talented. Henry, this grim tale of the macabre is called The Sleepwalker. I have dreamed more than once that a man may attain immortality by assiduously avoiding

daylight, for it is only by the light of the sun that he ages, knowing this secret one might go living indefinitely. Only a few hundred people in the entire world take advantage of this arcane knowledge, moving anonymously by night among the larger cities, and actively shun the attention of those who would expose them to the curiosity or worse of the masses. If you've seen one of these extraordinary beings, it is without knowing it, of course. They're at the periphery of your view one evening at an out-of-the-way tavern. Their eyes half-shot cigarette dangling from shadowy lips, sweeping the change before him

on the bar into his pocket just as you arrived. You didn't consciously mark him as he shuffled out of sight with the slow determination of a sleepwalker, but something in you did note him, and his memory returned so quickly and sharply, because this is so. Now that you acknowledge you have seen him, study what little remains to you of his profile, his peculiar slouch, for you will never see this individual again, or rather he will never let you see him. No matter where you search through the blurred end of the night, he will always have left

a few steps ahead of you, leaving behind some ashes, a drained bottle next to a sudsy glass, a layer of smoke on the stagnant air. His will be the joke at which the nodding drinkers still laugh, but you will never hear his voice, unless you go to the 7-Elephant, because that's where I'm working the night. Fucking Goths. Oh man, cute. I love Goths. Very sweet.

That is the hue. A 100-pound man with the weird red contact lenses and a steampunk hat. Oh no, no, no, no, that's a guy tinier than me. That's a 140-pound, 6-foot tall, but his girlfriend. That's a big girl. Yeah, it could be. Chain wallets. Beautiful woman.

Chain wallets are always, why do people who have chain wallets always look like they have no money in them? If you ever wanted to steal a chain wallet, I had a chain wallet, I had a kick-ass one with flames on it, and then I had another one that had the Metallica logo on it. I had the same wallet. You had the same one, the Metallica logo? Was it really long? The wallet?

Yeah, the wallet. It was like that you can put your checks in it. Mine was like the Lode-era like skull with flames Metallica symbol on it. It was a bad time period for all of us. Yeah, the late 90s were a strange time. I don't know what kind of wallet I had. Probably a big one because of how big your butt is. I didn't use the same kind of currency, though.

Oh, that's right. Sorry. All right, so now this one is called the tiger. Now we only have a few more left. Yeah, we've only got a couple left, yeah. The tiger and the persimmon? Persimmon. Persimmon.

Persimmon. The tiger and the persimmon, by Ben Kissel. The tiger and the persimmon. Was not written by me. The persimmon? The tiger and the persimmon. The tiger. This is a story about a cat and its fruit.

Is that what a persimmon is? A persimmon is a fruit, is it? Yeah. It's like a gay apple. Oh, really? Huh. All right, a fancy apple. The tiger and his fancy gay apple persimmon.

All right, so this is a fun little story here. One night a tiger came down to a village to eat a child and peeped into the window of a certain house. The child was crying and the mother said, a tiger is coming for you. But the child did not stop, when the tiger saw this, he thought to himself, this kid's not scared of me at all. The mother then said, if you stop crying, I'll give you dry persimmon. It's bad.

It's bad. Yeah. If you don't stop crying, she's going to give him dry persimmon. So the child immediately stopped crying and the tiger thought, what a fearful thing a dry persimmon must be and gave up the idea of eating the child and went to the cow shed to steal a cow. Just at that moment, a robber came, intending also to steal a cow, mistaking the tiger for a cow.

He got a, he got, he got a stride him and rode off. The tiger thought, this must be the persimmon and ran off at full speed. The people of the house had heard the noise and praised and raised a hue and a cry. But the robber whipped up his cow and escaped. When the day dawn, the robber realized his error and jumped off the tiger in a panic. The tiger also felt relieved. So that's good. I guess it's kind of a win-win.

You would just be, I can imagine you in this, like you a thousand years ago as you though, but as the town storyteller and they're like, can we please change storytellers? No. He seems to be hungover and sarcastic. No, no, no. These are the stories. He does not tell the story of the tiger and the persimmon with the drama must be. But first of all, what is persimmon?

Yes. It's a gay fruit, son. No. Yes. All right. All right. Kind of scary. Kind of scary.

A lot of confusion. A lot of confusion. Is it a cow or is it a tiger? You have to be pretty fucking dumb to think it's a man. A cow or a tiger? Yeah. Yeah. You could pick them out.

Oh, I know the difference. Yeah. Even in the dark, I think you could do it. Sure. You could close your eyes and lick and you could tell the difference. I think that's a good name when you run for congressmen. Close your eyes and lick. Vote Kissell.

What? All right. This is our last story. It's called Sonic the Fucking Hedgehog. Oh my. Yeah. Once upon a time, I was a big Sonic fan. Sonic was like my fucking wife.

I loved him for life and one day I'd be able to fuck him and have millions of humanoid babies if I meet him in real life. One day I was jerking my cock as cum splattered all over my big ass lips when I realized a new Sonic game coming out called Sonic the Cock-Sucking Hedgehog in the adventure of Eggman's Pussy-Zack and I was excited as fuck and I picked up my little masturbating ass up and wallowed over my Macintosh shitty computer edition and looked up new Sonic games and it was fucking false as my dog's cock and it was actually called Sonic's Vagina Operation in which Sonic has to take out only racist dick and turn it into a vagina like

mess with blood and cum all over the place and it's rated early childhood. I ordered a copy off of E.G. and it said two million years the game will arrive then two minutes later the game arrived. The mailman gave it to me as I fucking pissed in his ugly ass face as I opened up the game and slammed it into my Nintendo fucked system. The game said it was not available for purchase until two million 2014 A.D. if that was possible. I threw a fuck bit and smashed my fucking TV. I later jumped out a window and ate all the drugs and later committed suicide.

Man that just sounded like Holden McNeely from the round table of gentlemen. Talking about fucking video games. Oh wow. Good lord. Well this is just what an episode we've been on a lot of different journeys today huh. Lot of journeys. We've all learned a lot. We did learn a lot.

What a persimmon is. Sure. Great. What a persimmon is not. Right. Greys have eating disorders. They're anorexic. Yes.

We learned that. And the internet it did bad for everyone. Yes remember when they sold us on the internet as if it was going to be a great curator of intelligence and knowledge. I remember there should be like you can have a conversation with someone in Asia or from someone in Asia. Whoa. Yeah.

So dumb. Epcot was big on talking to the lesion girls. Epcot was. Yeah. Yeah that's right. The world of tomorrow. Yeah but it was always a little lesion girl you're talking to and it was some grown man talking to her.

I mean. And now you realize that's human trafficking. Yeah that's true. In Williamsburg it seems to be very the future is now. There's a lot of Asian girls with big fat ugly men. Yeah. Oh yes. Are they purchased?

No. Well who knows there's a lot of wealthy people in Williamsburg Brooklyn but either way my goodness what a fun creepypasta this was. Yeah it was great. We went on a lot of different roads. Yeah. I feel good. I feel cleansed.

Yeah. Yeah I got to yell. And you know how much I love to yell. Sure. I don't get to do it very often. But when I do I look at me. Look at how relaxed I am. Yeah.

You look great. I'm a chill bill brother. Early shaking and that's good for Marcus. That is good for Marcus. Yeah. All right. So let's see what do we have. Do we have anything to announce.

Well we've got plenty of stuff going on. I mean shit man we're coming to the U.K. the tickets are on sale are we're going to Manchester or Salford. Salford. Salford. Salford. And London. London is almost sold out already so guys get your tickets right now go to gigsandtourist.com

and search last podcast on the left Manchester is getting real close to go get your tickets now because these are the we're coming in October and where it's fucking what May. Yeah. Yeah. It's May. It's May and the tickets are already almost sold out so go get your tickets now and before that we're coming to Atlanta Atlanta we're coming to Atlanta either June 16th or 18th one of the two 16th the 16th we're coming to Atlanta on June 16th we're going to be

playing at the Earl which I hear is an awesome venue. It's awesome. Yeah. I fucking love it's in East Atlanta I love Atlanta I cannot wait to do a show there. And that show is also almost sold out so get your tickets now I mean we got people coming from fucking Florida to come see this show all the way from Florida to Calusa oh my goodness I hear one of them is a music man and the other one sells books we got to take that book selling man and burn them at the stake I hate books.

And then in July we're coming to Los Angeles don't forget we're doing our live showing of the last podcast on the left cut of Hexen and that one as well is almost sold out guys I mean thank you so much for all of the shows that you're supporting shit we just came back with two sold out shows in Chicago Chicago was fucking amazing I didn't get to comment to Chicago I fucking loved it we thought it was Chicago's great very attractive people yeah I got very drunk. Yeah yeah extremely drunk give me more malort. More malort.

Less malort for me. Less malort. Marcus actually liked it. I did. What? You disgust me. I liked it then I hated it and then I wanted more. It's just very bizarre.

Yeah it's got like I love vinegar and it's got like a vinegar taste like I love like vinegar and you know how much I mean you know how much I love pickles and it kind of reminded me a little bit of like a pickle memory you know pickle memory just sounds like a fucking the smell of a fucking toilet spray yeah it tasted like Abraham Lincoln's top hat right now like it's just disgusting if you ate a fucking hat from whatever. And we've also got a couple more shows that are we're coming back to Baltimore that one is in the works right now and we've got a couple other shows that we're working on so thank you guys so much the only reason why we can do this is because you donated to our

Patreon campaign that's patreon.com slash last podcast on the left the more you guys give the more cool stuff we're going to be able to do and the more cities we're going to be able to come to and we can even you know it's possible that we've got some small tours coming up in the future and that stuff seriously is only possible because of you guys so if you want to support the show please go to patreon.com slash last podcast on the left if you think we deserve it I mean we love doing this show and the more support we get the more we can do for you guys because we have the best fucking listeners in the world and even when you know what man even when people complain about the episode being

a little bit late man it's it ain't the worst problem in the world to have that people are excited about what you put out to the point of impatience yeah good and we just went on vacation it was nice I went on my first ever vacation yeah I did not go on vacation no you didn't you said it worked like a fucking that the creatures that lived under the ground and yeah in the center of the earth book yes I always like I like to work yeah yeah I went back to Texas and killed a bunch of snakes very I rented a yellow Camaro I will look like such an asshole I look like Rodney Dangerfield from Caddyshack everywhere go pulling into with a good fucking yellow Camaro just like the play in everybody's working for the weekend

well I think the irony of having a yellow Camaro Camaro is you don't realize everyone's kind of laughing at you yeah I had a blast though it goes so fast yeah well I'm happy I had a Guy Fieri sunburn the entire time with my sunglasses just burnt around my sunglasses it was great I love Guy Fieri and if you guys want a last podcast on the left t-shirt go to cavecomedyradio.com slash merch you can get one there we've got some new t-shirts in the works right now that we're gonna be coming out with soon but thank you guys so much follow us on Twitter at LP on the left on Instagram at LP on the left I'm at Instagram at Marcus Parks and go check out my music show The Lucky Bone Show at mixedcloud.com

slash Marcus Parks yeah I'm on Instagram at Dr. Fantasty if you want to see my trials and tribulations yep I'm on Twitter at Ben Kissel still don't have my Instagram password I'm on Twitter at Henry loves you we got a lot on Twitter is that we for us is at LP on the left as well yeah and yeah thanks for supporting all the shows round table of gentlemen listen to that get drunk with your friends have a good time able to stop at for everything politics sex and other human activities for mental health advice you want to hear Henry sister to talk about her vagina and and of course page seven for your entertainment needs inhale Satan and if you're in San Francisco and you want a good ghost tour check out the

haunted hate walking tour it's pretty fucking sweet and Jim Jones house and we've also got some thank yous for people that have sent us some awesome shit I want to say thank you to Derek Smith for sending us an awesome little Freddy Krueger bobblehead oh my god and it's so great a sweet uncle acid shirt for me a bunch of great books I also want to thank let's see here who else in the ship we got a lot of stuff this month yeah Abby to Moschik to Moschik Abby to Moschik thank you very much and also I forgot was someone sent us a bunch of craft beer no shit yeah a bunch of really cool shit and also thank you to Haley Pete and Kyle from Metro for sending us a nice little picture and a sticker

and just generally for showing us they were incredible you guys were incredible and yeah we'll see you all next time to Moschik to Moschik to Moschik yeah it's like a Midwestern name oh very good penmanship yeah very good almost scarily good Abby to Moschik yeah Abby was the one that sent us the beer thank you thank you so much yeah and if you guys want to send us anything send it to a creek in the cave care Marcus Parks or care last podcast on the left 1093 Jackson Avenue Long Island City New York 11101 very good nice job Marcus thank you very much I've only been working here six years that's all perfect all me hail yourselves how do you know more shows like the one you just listened to go to cave comedy

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