Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 2x13: Ranger - Let's Not Meet (Feat. Andrew Parker)

Episode Date: September 9, 2019

Stories in this episode: Former Park Ranger - randomlawngnome I was almost kidnapped as a kid - theangrysquash Burglar "Dream" - TwinkleBrush The good neighbor- Queequeg89 Goddess - IntrepidSnowball Check out Andrew Parker's podcast Crypta at http://cryptaseries.com Follow Let's Not Meet: Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/  Twitter - https://twitter.com/letsnotmeetcast  Website - http://letsnotmeetpodcast.com  Patreon - http://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast  Twitch - https://www.twitch.tv/crypticcounty    

AT&T Fiber presents a straightforward moment. Your wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending. Are you a Gagillionaire? Yeah, I have AT&T Fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward.

Me too. Ugh, this wine. I'll fetch you a better one. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber, limited availability and select areas, visit ATT.com slash Hypergate for details. My name is Andrew Tate and this is season 2 episode 13 of Let's Not Meet a True Horror

Podcast. My guest this week is Andrew Parker. Andrew works on the Fantastic Podcast, called Crypto, along with some great voice talents like Henry Zabrowski, Ed Larson, and our friend and recent guest Shelby Scott from the Scare Yous Sleep Podcast. But more on that later, for now, enjoy the show. A few years ago, my friend Tess and I set out on the Great American Road Trip. We were going to drive from New York to Los Angeles, zigzagging through the country for six weeks.

We were both in our early 20s, pretty broke, and as my mom had been a long haul trucker I suggested that to save some money we should sleep in the back of our hatchback. It was a pretty cozy setup. We brought some blankets and sheets from Goodwill and cut one of them up to make a curtain. By the end of the first week, we'd gotten so that we could set up camp in about 10 minutes. Luggage moved to the front, curtains up, bedding laid down, and out for the night. We slept in parking lots, free campsites, rest areas, basically anywhere it seemed safe and semi-legal. There was never a night, after the first night, where we felt scared, until the last week of our trip in Arizona. We were near Flagstaff and had gotten pretty used to our routine.

We didn't go on a set schedule, and would never drive more than three or four hours a day. No destination really in mind. We drive places we found the night before on Google and take suggestions from other campers, locals, and people we met. We had also gotten very good at making friends. We went to Denny's with a group of red necks we met at the campsite and the back of their pick-up because I got hungry and overheard them saying that they were going to go. And we met an 80 year old cowboy who took us out drinking and taught us how to line dance

at a country bar. I hope you're still kicking, Grandpa Mack. We played guitar with some musicians in the middle of a thunderstorm, and then we got fed breakfast and dinner by tons of campers who invited us to hang out with them. We even spent fourth of July with a family who basically adopted us into their campsite. Basically every encounter we had with this stranger was a positive one. Well, this one night didn't look to be any different. We found a free campsite on Google and drove up to the woods, following our GPS.

We were pretty far out of town and something seemed a little bit off when we pulled up to the campsite. There was one RV parked and two cars further up in the trees. We pulled up near the RV and demand opened the door. pulled up near the RV and a man opened the door. Tez waived hello, but they just stared at her. The person's expression was completely blank. Then as if she hadn't said anything, as person, he'd just slowly closed the door again, staring at us the entire time. Figuring he was just someone who wanted privacy and thought we were

obnoxious, we pulled further down the road and found a flat spot to park the car. Instead of our usual routine of setting up camp immediately while it was still light out, we goofed around for a while, smoking and laughing and taking dumb photos of ourselves. Tess pointed at a campfire further down the campsite and we decided to go be friendly. We met so many cool people in the previous five weeks by just going up and chatting with them, so we wandered over.

Near the campfire, there were two men, the owners of the cars that we'd seen earlier. They seemed friendly and we sat down to have a chat with them. They were drinking and smoking, and we had a beer with them. One of the men seemed pretty off, and we came to find out that the two of them didn't actually even know each other. The older man was definitely on some sort of drugs. He was spinning in circles and talking about UFOs.

However, he seemed harmless. This left us chatting with the younger man who claimed to be a former park ranger. He was handsome and easy going, and we spent several hours just chatting about our trip, families, and everything else. Then he started talking about the bear. He'd seen a bear earlier in the forest, Tess didn't believe him, and he pulled out his camera to show her photos of the bear. It was very close to the campsite, and we were both a little freaked out. It wasn't unheard of for one of us to get

up and go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, so the idea of a bear hanging around in the night spooked us. The ranger just laughed, and then his expression changed completely. It's hard to describe, but his voice seemed to somehow turn cold. He said, if you get out of your car in the middle of the night, it's not a bear that you should be worried about. I kept waiting for a laugh, for him to nudge tests with his elbow. Jokes on the foreigner and the city girl, right? Well, he never did. I laughed awkwardly and made a dumb joke about serial killers in the woods. My friend laughed as well and joked about Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

We moved on to another subject, but within five minutes the ranger had come back to it and was talking about something grabbing us from our car in the middle of the night. No matter how we tried to steer the conversation away from serial killers, he kept latching back on. The older man was high as a kite at this point and was staring at the stars, not talking. We just awkwardly laughed and sipped our beer and just tried to get the conversation going somewhere else. Then the ranger stood up and walked towards the cooler to get another beer. At this point, it's pitch black out and I can hardly see anything outside of the circle of light from the campfire. The beer cooler was just outside of that circle. Suddenly there was a red dot in the darkness and it took a moment for me to realize

that it was a camera. The Ranger was holding a camera. He had taken a photo of us. I could see the screen on the digital camera as it lit up. Now it wasn't odd for the people we met to ask to take pictures with us. My friend Tess is gorgeous, dark hair, blue eyes, like a young Megan Fox, and we were friendly. People like having pictures of themselves. It was an entirely strange thing, though, to have this person taking photos of us without asking, or even indicating that they were doing it. We were both staring at him like deer in the headlights at this point, but instead of realizing what he's doing is a bit weird,

doing is a bit weird, he checks his camera, adjusts some things and takes another photo. This time with the flash, not asking us to smile, not proposing a group photo, and with no explanation. After this photo, he comes back to the fire and sits down, not a single word said about the photo. At this point, me and Tess are mutually freaked out. We make some bullshit excuse that we need to go set up our campsite and get the hell out of there. When we stand to leave, the UFO guy smiles and says, have a good night. The ranger, however, looks at us with the smile that doesn't reach his eyes, if you know what I mean. And he says, be careful out there, there's more than bears in the woods. more than bears in the woods. Every hair on my body stood on end.

I wasn't alone in my discomfort either because Tess laughed, a response out and pulled me away from the campfire towards our car. We rushed back to the car, which we only found in the dark by referencing the RV and jumped into the front seats. My friend Tess is all about hyperventilating. Why did he take pictures of us? That was shaking, and I responded. I read that serial killers sometimes warn their victims. She stared at me for a second and locked the car doors. Do you think he just took victim photos of us? We both freaked out.

She's in a full panic and turns the headlights on in the car. I immediately yell at her to turn them off because now he knows exactly where our car is. We didn't need to tear anything down, so we just put the car in a drive and floored it out of the campsite. As we got to the dirt road, the Ranger was walking towards our car with that same cold expression. Ranger. Let's not meet ever again.

This happened when I was probably 7 or 8. I don't really remember all of the details, but I do remember some really messed up stuff. When I was a kid, I lived in a pretty sketchy neighborhood. We lived in these long apartments. The front of the apartments faced the main road and there was a little side street to access the parking and backyards of the apartments. Behind the apartments was a massive field. It was super overgrown, so much so that it was almost a little forest. My friends and I used to go back there and build hobbit holes in the grass.

My mom hated it when we went out there because there were some rough people that lived in the neighborhood, and she didn't like a group of seven-year-olds playing out where people also shot up heroin. One day I was out in the woods by myself, just exploring and pretending to be Indiana Jones or something, and as I was coming out of the tall grass, I could see the little back alley in between the parking and houses and the woods. I saw a deer lying in the grass. I thought it was just sleeping, so I crept up on it to try to scare it. When I got there, I knew something was off.

The deer was too still, and it smelled horrible. I couldn't see its face as its back was facing me, but when I got up to it, I nearly had a heart attack when I saw that its entire stomach was ripped open, and all the insides were spewed about on the ground. I wasn't a smart kid, but I knew that this was fucked up. When I turned a run back home to tell my mom, I saw a second deer nailed to the tree next to the first deer. I don't know how I didn't notice this before, but it's too front hooves were nailed above

its head to the tree. Stumma was also cut open, and the ribs had been broken open to expose the gaping hole. As I stood there staring at it, a car drove past on the little alley. I remember it was a white car with tinted windows, and was driving really slowly. Everyone drove slowly on this alley because it was a residential street, but these people were barely even moving. I couldn't see inside but I got this sinking feeling that they were just watching me. Obviously, I can't be sure that they were the ones who mutilated the deer, but I'm like

99% sure it was them. Once they were gone, I booked it home and told my mom the whole thing. She told me not to go in the field anymore, and I happily agreed. I didn't particularly enjoy seeing a deer's insides, and I would have loved to have just forgotten the whole thing. For the next month or so, I saw that car everywhere. It would drive up the main road while I was playing in the front yard. It would drive down the back alley when I would be in the back yard, and I even remember

seeing it at the grocery store when my mom and I were shopping. I could have been just another tinted windowed white car, but they were definitely stocking the house. It was always the white car, always the tinted windows, and always driving way too slowly to be normal. I told my mom about it, but she chalked it up to being a neighbor down the street or something. One day my mom was out mowing the front lawn because of the way the apartments were set up she had to push the lawnmower around all of the apartments to get to our backyard. Being the helpful little kid that I was, I was going to meet my mom out back to

open the gate for her so she could put the lawnmower in the little shed. As I'm walking to the gate, I see the car coming along the back alley. Normally the car goes slow, but as soon as it turned the corner, the driver stepped on the gas and zoomed up to me. The back door closest to me opened and someone got out and started running towards me. I don't remember what he looked like, or even if it was a he. I just remember hauling ass back to the house and pissing myself the whole time. After that, my dad yelled at me for peeing myself, and neither he nor my mom believed me about the guy in the car.

I never saw him again after that, and we moved a few months later. My parents still think I made the whole thing up, even though they know how sketchy the neighborhood was. I don't remember anyone going missing around that time in my town, and I didn't find anything when I googled it. But it was really messed up, and I have no idea who those people in the car were, why they medallated the deer, or what they had planned for me. To the creepy people in the white car? What's not me? So this little nugget of memory still creeps me out to this day. When I was a kid, my mom and I lived in a somewhat sucky neighborhood in Chicago. Despite the condition of the neighborhood, the apartment complex we lived in, however,

was fantastic. Our top floor unit had a fireplace that saved our lives during the winter. And it was nice quality considering the area and had an AC that iced out the front area of the unit in the summer. But the back area remained hotter than Satan's armpits because of the temperature on hot days my mom and I would camp out in the living room and sleep on those nights. Anyway, despite the rough neighborhood, I remember having a good childhood in the short time that we were there, because maybe my mom always made sure to protect me from the

parts of the neighborhood that were exceptionally rough. So on one winter night, our apartment was freezing cold. My mom told me to grab my pillows and to blanket because we were going to have a sleepover in the living room. She pocked some popcorn, made some hot chocolate, one with no marshmallows for me, and one loaded with them for her. We ate and drank and watched Christmas movies before I passed out. Clearly, a white girl wasted it on hot chocolate. At some point in the middle of the night, I woke up to go to the bathroom and saw movement

in the kitchen. I don't know if it was because I was too stupid-tired, but I called out mommy, even though she was asleep on the couch next to me. The person who I soon realized was a guy because of his huge stature and lack of hair under the mask that he wore, walked over and crouched down eyelevel, in front of me and whispered. Shhh. I simply shrugged, went to the bathroom, and came back to the living room to go to sleep, and that was that. The guy was no longer there, and the door was left slightly at jar.

So I chocked it up to one of those lucid dreams, and filed it away in my repressed memories. I do however remember moving the next day to my grandparents place for about a month until we found something, because I was so young and my mom, she just never told me why. Not until I was grown, at least. The topic of the apartment randomly came up in conversation, and I offhandedly told her about the dream that I remembered that I had. This is the terrifying conversation that ensued. Did I ever tell you about that weird dream I had, Mom? No, I don't think so.

What dream? After I told her, she went pale as a ghost. Now, my mother is a dark-skinned black woman, so seeing her go pale scared the shit out of me. That wasn't a dream, honey. That really happened. Now, it was my turn to go pale. I felt my stomach falling into my ass and I stared at her.

Like, speak, go on. Why were you silent? I woke up in the middle of the night and this man was standing above me, staring at me," she said. I remember immediately demanding, where is my child? Where is my child? I tried to get up, but he growled. Yes, then whispered angrily.

Don't move. At this I started tearing up. I saw the fear in my mother's eyes, the utter terror of thinking something had happened to her only child. I hated seeing my mom so upset. It's been just us practically all of my life, so I imagine her having to move herself into a young girl out of a neighborhood from sheer terror is hard to say the least. My mom said, the man just continued to stare at me. He rushed out of the apartment when I heard you flush the toilet and he left everything he was going to steal.

The next morning, I packed up our stuff and we went to live with Nana and Papa. I left the furniture, plates, silverware, TV. I just got our clothes and got us the hell out of that place. But because we vacated the lease, it kind of fucked up my credit, but I couldn't imagine sleeping in that place another night. My mother and I just sat there in silence, freaking out because of my quote unquote dream, which happened to actually not be a dream, and was all too real. I'd say it was simply a drug addict trying to make off with some stuff, but why walk up to a child and tell her to be quiet instead of just leaving with what you had already packed? Why stare at a woman? Make her lie still in place.

Then just leave when the kid comes out of the bathroom. Just...why? 18T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment You're wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending. Are you a Gigillionaire? Yeah, I have 18T Fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward.

Me too. Ugh, this one. I'll fetch you a better one. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability in select areas. Visit AT&T.com slash HyperGig for details.

It's around 6 a.m. when my landline phone rings. Because every person I know calls me on my cell phone. I always have an uneasy feeling when this one rings. Though it's usually, mostly people trying to tell me insurance stuff, or the occasional call from my boyfriend's parents when his battery dies. But it's way too early for this kind of call. So I reluctantly climb out of my bed, still half asleep, and go pick it up. At the end of the line, a woman introduces herself as a journalist for a major TV channel,

and asks me, I'm doing a report on the fire that took place next to your apartment. Have you witnessed anything? I have no idea what she's talking about, so I say no, and try to question her about the situation. At this point, she obviously has no interest in speaking with me anymore, so she briefly tells me that a fire started in the building right next to mine, and that an undisclosed number of persons died in the event. Now fully awake, I decide to get dressed and go down to see if I can be of any help.

Firemen have already controlled the fire. Turns out 8 people, including 2 children, have died, some by jumping out of the building. Everyone in the street, mostly people from the neighborhood and bypasses the lingering out of macabre curiosity are in shock. I live in an area that used to be quite sketchy but is drastically gentrified over the years. There is still quite a bit of drug trafficking but never have I really felt unsafe there. Near my building is a surveillance camera that I'd never really noticed prior to the event. A few days later, a middle-aged homeless man who was seen on said surveillance camera is apprehended and sent into custody. He seems to be the perfect culprit in many ways. He's been diagnosed as

mentally unstable and was caught near the building with a candle and a lighter. For a few days, every person I know in the area has a formality to share about this tragic event until we all try to move on with our lives. Afterwards, it felt odd walking down my street. For months, the building was in renovation and you could see the burnt upper flooring. Until early 2016, there were flowers all over this building's entrance and several wakes had been organized. One resident of the building, a 20 yearyear-old student, was particularly vocal about the

whole thing. You can see plenty of reports of him describing the horror that unfolded that day. He would put down flowers with the grieving families and talked very openly about the tragedy. One year after the event, he organized a commemorative wake in my street, to which all people from the neighborhood were invited. When I saw him, we didn't speak much, but I could tell he was genuinely distressed. A few days later, as I was leaving for work, my boyfriend told me, have you seen the news? The homeless guy who was jailed for the fire in the street was found out to be innocent.

It turned out the 20-year-old student was the one who started the fire. He had turned himself into police and said that he student was the one who started the fire. He had turned himself into police and said that he had felt the urge to see the fireman before lighting a trolley on fire in the building hallway. After that, he came back to his second floor apartment and managed to jump out of his window. Some of the victim's families were interviewed in the media later on. They were all shocked to know that this overly nice neighbor was responsible for the tragedy. While he has been described to be fragile, there were no red flags.

He was actually the one who called the fireman, and that's the one thing that creeps him out the most. That someone so normal looking could do such horrendous things on an impulse, and water free for a whole year. I heard he's now in jail, and I truly hope we'll never, ever meet again. I live in a picture-esque medium-sized city in Oregon. Because it has very little crime, I used to feel safe enough to walk around alone, and sometimes even did my jogging at night to avoid the heat of the day.

People have told me this is unwise, but after living in cities that have a lot of violent crime, this one seems like a sandbox, and I've never really worried about it. Until now that is. After last Saturday that sense of security is shattered, my foolish confidence is gone. I'll never ever do that shit again." An out-of-state friend came to visit for the long Labor Day weekend and I took her out of town.

Since it's very walkable of an area, we parked my car on a residential street and set off on foot. We hit up a few bars and grabbed a bite to eat, just catching up on our lives and having a pleasant evening. I played tour guide and pointed out that all of my favorite spots were around. Eventually, it got late and we decided to head back to our starting point, which is about a mile away. We took a slightly different route, so I could show my friend more of those

gorgeous neighborhoods. We liked to look at the houses and compare our favorites. By then, night had fallen, but there were plenty of streetlights for visibility. After a couple of more blocks, we turned down a particularly deserted street. Usually, you'll see at least one or two people walking their dogs are simply strolling around the area like we were. I found it odd that there was literally no one else around. But again, since I'd never had any trouble, I brushed off the weariness that I was beginning to feel. It was a holiday weekend after all. Maybe everybody was on vacation. As we approached a large elementary school to our left, we heard a low voice talking.

There was a guy up ahead standing in the shadows on the opposite side of the street. He wore dark clothing and a backpack and appeared to have a short beard. He seemed like an ordinary man. Granted, I couldn't get a very good look at him, but nothing about his appearance gave me pause. I assumed he was on the phone or talking to someone that we couldn't see. When we got closer, I realized he was simply muttering to himself under his breath. Oh, great, I thought.

As he mentally ill on drugs homeless or all three. Without acknowledging him or breaking stride, my friend and I continued our conversation as if we didn't notice him at all, and hoped for the best. To our dismay, the muttering grew louder. A few seconds later, my friend leaned toward me and said the words that I was dreading. He is following us. I looked over my shoulder to confirm, and sure enough he had crossed over to our side of the street and trailed about ten feet behind. I cannot stress it enough there was no one else around, just the two of us in this maniac. We picked up our pace and scanned for a house

that looked occupied in case the situation escalated, and we needed help. The street lights got dimmer, and farther apart, and the muttering never stopped. It seemed like the man wanted to get our attention, but not overtly. Like he wanted us to be aware of his presence without drawing too much attention to himself. We had no idea what he wanted, but we aware of his presence without drawing too much attention to himself. We had no idea what he wanted, but we sure as hell didn't want to find out. Just when it was looking like we might have to break into a sprint, I spotted a house with a car in the driveway in a bright porch light. We walked up, as nonchalantly as possible, as if we lived there, but stopped short of the porch.

Because we didn't want to bother the stranger if our lives weren't actually in danger. We loudly talked about what else we were going to do with our night, making it sound like we might get into that car and drive off to meet my boyfriend at a nightclub. It seemed like a good idea to play it cool and wait for this nutcase to move on. But he didn't fall for it. He saw we were not going into the house and knew that it wasn't ours. He stood on the sidewalk out front and cranked at the volume of his muttering. For the first time I was able to make out what he was saying.

Over and over he repeated. There's no reason to be scared I'm a human being. Just come down here and talk to me. I know you're scared, but I'm a human being, and you should talk to me. All I want is a cigarette, he fucking bitches. His tone was chilling, almost monotone, with a few angry notes peppered in. And the more he repeated himself, the more agitated he sounded. It's worth mentioning that while I do feel this city is very safe, the downtown area is

fairly infested with aggressive vagrants. It's common for them to harass passerbyes, but they don't normally stalk you like that, and we were very far from the parts of the city where they hang out. I would have never guessed there would be a deranged creep lurking around a school and an empty affluent neighborhood at 11 p.m. on Saturday night. I mean, what the fuck? So my friend and I just kind of stood there looking at each other. We didn't want to engage the guy in any way, because we didn't know how he would react. He was clearly lucid enough to understand the situation.

He knew that we were afraid, and he knew we were trying to get away from him, and those facts pissed him off. He reminded me of a dog that's frustrated. When it's football has been moved out of reach. We noticed the front door of the house was open. We should go inside and explain that there's a scary, potentially insane person out there trying to lure us into talking to him. I contemplated it, but my friend stopped me whispering. What kind of weirdo leaves the front door wide open this late at night. Now, we're both fully freaked out, and there just didn't seem to be any good options.

After hearing more drivel about the kind of bitches that we were for being afraid, I almost told the fucker to go away, but before I had a chance to screw up the nerve, he yelled, Hey you! Yeah, you! I stared at him expectantly. He pointed both index fingers at me and shouted, GAUDAS! Before turning and silently disappearing down the street.

My friend thought that he was insulting me like how you might call a snobby girl a princess, but it didn't sound that way to me. It sounded more like the type of last resort compliment a drunk guy gives you a bar or a concert, something they might offer up when they're trying to save face. It didn't match the rambling, low-voiced stream of consciousness muttering that he'd been doing before, and at that moment I knew for certain he was some kind of schizophrenic vagrant. Whoever he was, he was in full control of his faculties and certainly had bad intentions. The crazy guy antics were an act. We waited until he was completely out of sight before sneaking away from the porch and back

tracking to the previous cross-street. Nobody ever came out of that house to see what the commotion was, and we were absolutely terrified the stalker might be hiding in the shadows, ready to jump out of the hedges or cut us off at the next intersection. We both wanted to run, but didn't because the sound of our shoes on the pavement might give away our location. We felt hunted, we felt like we were playing hide and seek with the murderer. We didn't relax until we made it to a more populated area with plenty of cars and

pedestrians. Needless to say, night jogging is a thing of the past and I now carry pepper spray with me when I leave the house. Thanks to Andrew Parker from the podcast Crypta for joining me this week. Crypta is an audio drama series featuring some of your favorite hosts from some of your favorite podcasts. Set in the 1950s, Crypta tells a story of Dr. Stein, an eccentric German scientist tasked with collecting some of the world's most elusive creatures like Sasquatch, the Loch Ness Monster, and Mothman.

They're currently producing Season 2, and I twisted Parker's arm until he agreed to let me come on the show. So this probably won't be the last you'll hear from me about this show. Check out Crypta at cryptasseries.com or wherever you listen to podcasts. This week on Let's Not Meet You have heard former Park Ranger by it, Random Lawn Noom. I was almost kidnapped as a kid by the angry squash, burglar dream by Twinkle Brush, The Good Neighbor by Quikwegg 89. I'm just gonna guess that's how you say it, and finally goddess by an intrepid snowball. For all the patrons out there, don't forget to check out the one-shot story this weekend

and your full bonus episode later on this week. See the rest of you guys next week for a brand-new episode of Let's Not Meet. In a world that was 1950s post-war America, one former German scientist was placed in charge of capturing and steady encrypted by the US government. What happened next was almost too unbelievable to be believed. Wait, hold on. Too unbelievable to be believed? What talent was hacked broke this dribble? Cryptogenesis, the Doc Stein tape, stars Henry Zabrowski as Doc Stein. I'm from New York.

I can take it. We made fucked up things. Forever. We like made up most fucked up things. Ed Larson is the Loch Ness Monster. Hey, you know, sometimes I swim, sometimes I eat, sometimes I hide from cameras, other times I'll eat. Eat somebody.

Hold him, McNeely is the lovelin' frogman. Hey, what are you doing in my swamp? You stupid, dumb, frig. Andrew Parker has big foot. Wait a minute! Did you take a dump in my woods? I hope you're gonna clean that up, someone will walk around your barefoot, you know?

Brandon Kehila as the Mothman. By the way, does anyone have a sweat I can nibble on? I'm finished. And a bunch of other people you've probably never heard of. Don't miss the show that Mark Maren called, the best fucking podcast ever, bar fucking none. And that Joe Rogan said, change my life even more than the first time I did DMT.

Crypto is available anywhere you listen to podcasts. Binge all 10 episodes of the first season now, or a gang of skeletons with fire for hair will come into your room while you sleep and drag you kicking and screaming into hell where you'll be tortured for eternity. Don't say that we didn't warn you. to hell where you'll be tortured for eternity. Don't say that we didn't warn you. That sounds bad.

Dog, what exactly was that? You think you're the only creatures down here since the air of 51? Get with the program. 18T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment You're wine? Thanks. I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending. Are you a Gagillionaire? Yeah, I have AT&T Fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward.

Me too. Ugh, this wine. I'll fetch you a better one. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T fiber. Limited availability in select areas, visit att.com slash hypergig for details.