Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 9x27: Tales From Downeast Maine - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: February 6, 2023

Stories in this episode: - Followed by Drugged Up Gang Members, by June (0:50) - Tales From Downeast Maine, by IAmTheWalrus216 (8:04) - Creepy Man in a Poncho, by A-Ginger6060 (17:32) - Cryptic Creeper in the Woods, by Nancy R (23:08) - Whippets Creep. by C.L (29:48) - Eat Your Peas, by Dana (42:35) - I'm Glad He Didn't Stay for Dinner, by Kristine (47:38) Extended Patreon Content: - The Kids Aren't Ok, by C - Monday Morning Madness, by Twiggery All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online. To submit your story to the show, send it to [e-mail].   Get access to extended, ad-free episodes of Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast with bonus stories every week at a higher bitrate along with a bunch of other great exclusive material and merch at patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast. This podcast would not be possible to continue at this rate without the help of the support of the legendary LNM Patrons. Come join the family! Check out the other Cryptic County podcasts like Odd Trails, Welcome to Paradise (It Sucks), and the Old Time Radiocast at CrypticCountyPodcasts.com or wherever you get your podcasts! PDS DEBT is offering free debt analysis to our listeners just for completing the quick and easy debt assessment at www.PDSDebt.com/meet.  EXCLUSIVE NordVPN Deal ➼ https://nordvpn.com/lnm Try it risk-free now with a 30-day money-back guarantee!  Check out Love & Pies, free to download in the App Store or Google Play today! - Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/ - Website - https://letsnotmeetpodcast.com - Patreon - https://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast - Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsnotmeetcast/

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This podcast contains adult language and content. If you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Enjoy the show. My name is Andrew Tate and this is season 9 episode 27 of Let's Not Meet a True Horror I've been going to the same church for as long as I can remember. The pastor is a family friend. I go to a school that's right across the street from this church, and I know the area quite well. It's in a pretty sketchy area.

A lot of criminal activity happens, but I was young in Naive at the time. I thought there was no way that anything like this could ever happen to me. Well, during summertime, there would be these church sleepovers for middle schoolers and high schoolers. I decided to go since I didn't have anything better to do. This particular night started out pretty normal. A few of my friends met me in a park close to the church to hang out before the sleepover. I had the bright idea to bring my flask with

Quarren, quote, soda in it. I figured this would make the night a little more interesting. After rollerskating at the park and finishing the half-gallon jug, I headed to the church with my friends to set up our sleeping bags. This place where we were putting our sleeping bags was a big open room. This room had a storage closet, and there was a door that led out into the back parking lot. This door was unmonitored and didn't have any security cameras. Once you walked out that door, if you walked a little further past the parking lot, there was a strip mall. There were a few stores there, including a dispensary and a king super's. It was around two in the morning and my phone was dead. This big open room only had

three charging stations and each station was filled. I was definitely not in the right mindset due to the soda that I drank earlier. I decided to sneak through the door and prop it open with my shoe. So there I was, walking through a parking lot at 2am with only one shoe and no phone. I was determined to walk to King Super in the hopes of getting some gummy bears and a candy bar. Something I failed to think through was that the door was pretty heavy, a big metal door. My van slip on shoe was not going to be strong enough to keep that door open.

Of course, this heavy metal door was one of those doors that locked from the inside once it was shut. It was around 30 degrees outside and I was only wearing what I was sleeping in, which was a tank top and shorts. To say the least, I was definitely not prepared for whatever type of spy kids escape plan I was being set up to carry out. I had made it about halfway to the King's Supers, which was a five-minute walk from the church. I was continuing to stumble my way there in the cold weather.

I realized that this shopping trip wasn't going as smoothly as I thought it would. I looked up ahead and I saw a group of five guys standing around a motorcycle smoking something. They were laughing like absolute madmen. They were moving around like crazy. I've seen stuff like this happen before due to my past and my unwise decision making. I knew leaving the sleepover was a bad decision, though. One of the guys noticed me and turned all the way around to face me. The other guys did the same. One of them mumbled. What's a lady like you doing out here, all alone at this hour? I was shocked and I had no idea what to

do. Unfortunately, the King's supers was closed. I didn't realize it would be, but I should have realized this as a possibility since it was two in the morning. Just then, a woman ran out of the sliding doors of the store, full force. These doors slam open, side to side. But you're only supposed to do that in the case of an emergency. The alarm was going off and this woman ran across the parking lot. I immediately turned around and started speed walking back to the church as fast as I possibly could. My feet were numb because of how cold it was, but one thing I could feel was the eyes on the back of my head. After a minute or so of speed walking, I had the courage to

glance over my shoulder behind me and I saw two of the guys now following me, attempting to stay in the shadows so that I couldn't see them. Needless to say, I was freaking the fuck out. I was fully realizing how stupid this plan was. I didn't tell anyone where I was going. I was still only wearing one shoe and my phone was still dead. I had nothing to protect myself if they tried to do something. On top of all of this, I was still very disoriented. I walked as fast as I possibly could the rest of the way. When I got to the parking lot, I looked behind me and I saw the two guys duck behind a dumpster. I was almost at the heavy middle door that I had exited before. This was when I realized that my shoe was not there, giving it open. The door was closed and now locked. I was nervous about getting caught by the guys because I thought that they might kill me.

I was also nervous about going to the front door to have people who worked at the church let me in because I thought I would probably be disowned for sneaking out. Rather than face the consequences, I decided to bang on the back door. This was a horrible idea, because these guys were still behind the dumpster and watching me. They started to realize that I was locked out, and it didn't seem like there was anybody that was going to help. I could barely see because tears started to fill my eyes, and panic set in. I was 14. A 14-year-old girl, defenseless and alone with two guys who were seemingly intoxicated. They could very easily overpower me, and they clearly did not have good intentions. I was accepting the fate that at any moment they could grab me and run off without anybody

noticing. Just as they moved out from behind the dumpster, I slammed my body against that door. I slammed as hard as I could out of pure luck. Somebody opened the door and I fell in as and sobbing. A middle schooler at the sleepover heard a noise and went to investigate. She heard me banging against the door and crying outside. I don't know what would have happened to me if this little girl didn't hear me when she did. Even if it was just a few seconds later, it probably would have been too late. Later on, I learned that the guys that were very close to each other didn't hear me when she did. Even if it was just a few seconds later, it probably would

have been too late. Later on, I learned that the guys that were following me were from a well-known gang that was known for abusing women. So to the middle school girl that saved my life, thank you, and to the drug-dub gang members that followed me, but not me. This event happened over 40 years ago, and after repeated requests from my daughter and avid listener of the podcast, I finally finally getting around to putting this event and writing for the first time. It was mid-February in Maine in 1982. My brother-in-law will call him Steve and his wife had invited my wife and me to go to

their camp for a weekend of snowmobiling. Now their camp is on a lake, close to the Canadian border. My wife and I, drove to where Steve and his wife lived on Friday, then we set out for our trip the next morning. The journey would take us two hours of driving on main roads. And when those roads ended, they transitioned into logging roads which are essentially long stretches of gravel. We had prepared several meals and brought them with us, along with extra clothes and cans filled with gas-for-refueling. We made a quick lunch at camp until we were ready to head out for an afternoon of snow-mobiling. As usual, we had a great time.

The conditions in terrain were perfect, a foot and a half of packed snow, and the sun was shining. After snowmobiling, we drove back to Steve's camp and settled in to play a game of cribbage and have dinner. It was around 9 at night, when Steve asked if we wanted to head out again, this time for a night ride. I thought this was a great idea, but our wives felt like staying in and enjoying wine by the fire.

In retrospect, I wish I would have followed their lead. By the time Steve and I refueled our sleds, the temperature had dropped significantly, and not long into our ride, it started to snow. It was an easy dusting at first, but it escalated to blizzard status faster than I had ever seen. The mixture of snow, sleet, and the wind felt like rice hitting us in the face. At this point, we had been riding for about two hours, the conditions were pretty terrible,

and we became disoriented. The next thing we knew, we were lost. We stopped at the edge of the lake attempting to figure out where we were. To talk to each other, we had to make a tunnel with our hands around our mouths since the snow was coming down so hard. Just as we were starting to freak out about being lost on the outskirts of a lake, through the blizzard I saw a light flickering across the lake. It was a faint light, nevertheless, it was a light.

I thought it was possibly someone that could help us. Steve saw the light as well and we agreed to drive our sleds toward it. For some additional background, I was 25 at the time of this incident, six foot three in a former college football lineman. My brother-in-law was a veteran of the US Navy, a carpenter, and an avid outdoorsman in he was familiar with the area. and an avid outdoorsman, and he was familiar with the area. As we trekked across the lake, the light grew in size and intensity as we got closer. We could see that it was a cabin. Steve said that we should park our sleds at the edge of the lake and walk up.

I agreed and thought nothing of it at the time. But looking back, Steve's gut instinct probably saved our lives. Walking to the front of the cabin was difficult. We were waist deep and snow, and had to do knee-to-chest strides just to move forward. As we got closer, we saw a picture window to our right and a front door on the left. Steve walked toward the window and I veered toward the door. I pulled my glove off, and I was about to knock when I noticed something dripping onto the ground from above the door frame.

As I opened my palm and caught the droplets I looked up, I saw a huge carcass nailed to the frame. It was dripping blood. Oh, shit, I thought to myself. At that same moment Steve, without even looking at me, pulled me next to him and whispered, look. Through the window was the craziest, most sinister thing I had ever seen in my life, at that point. We watched about 10 to 12 men and women, completely covered in blood, and looking like they were fighting each other. Some were dressed, some were half dressed. They were all screaming while attacking each

other. They kept yelling and grabbing at each other by the neck. There was a lot of yelling. The amount of blood was like the gym scene from the movie Carrie. It was caked on their faces, and what made it more horrific was seeing the whites of their eyes each time they blinked. At some point they would stop and form a circle. Then the attacks would happen seemingly at random. It was nothing short of terrifying, we were paralyzed. We were stuck there watching this scene that we just couldn't comprehend and complete disbelief. It was a cabin full of blood. Adults covered in blood, screaming and attacking each other. After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a couple of minutes, Steve turned to

me and whispered again, but this time he said, run. And that's exactly what we did. We had been doing high knee strides to trek through the snow, but we went straight into power strides. We got onto our sleds, turned to the lake, and we're out of there. Within 20 minutes, we came upon a boat ramp that followed up to the main road. Steve noticed a wooden bridge and finally recognized where we were. We were back at our camp within an hour.

After settling in, our wives were still up, sitting by the fire. We told them what had just happened. They were in disbelief. It wasn't that they didn't believe us, but they were having a hard time like we were, comprehending such an unusual and terrifying scene. Steve and I stayed up for hours recalling every single detail. Our wives went to bed, but we were determined to come to terms with what we had just witnessed. I asked Steve what made him think to leave our sleds at the shoreline and not drive up to the camp. Steve said, I don't know, I just had a feeling.

After all these years, I have come to believe that these people were some type of satanic cult, and we must have witnessed part of their ritual. That's my theory, at least. All I know is that my brother-in-law's gut feeling probably saved our lives. So to the blood-soaked fight club, Satanists, that my brother-in-law and I saw during an unexpected blizzard y ha visto por hace años. ¡Let's please not meet! Las comunidades negras e ispanas se vende especcionalmente afectadas por la enfermedad de las células

falsiformes, una enfermedad devastadora que puede provocar anemia, fatiga, crisis de dolor, insuficiencia en diversos órganos y muerte prematura. Un nuevo estudio de investigación ofrece el potencial para luchar contra la enfermedad de células falsiformórmas. Visite Ruby-SECD-Stary.com para obtener más información sobre una opción de tratamiento en investigación para la enfermedad de células falsifórmes. El estudio ahora está recrutando personas de 18 a 50 años en Dallas. Visite Ruby-SECD-Stary.com. back in October. It happened in a very rural part of New Hampshire, like a side road, on a side road type of neighborhood. It was pouring out as it had been raining for pretty much the whole day. My mom had just gotten back from down the street at my sister's

car, and I was on the couch in the living room when suddenly I heard the doorbell ring. Our front door has a big glass pane in the front so we can look out from the inside and someone can look in from the outside. Through this window pane, I saw a man. I didn't get a great look at him, as I didn't have my long-distance glasses on, but the man noticed that I had seen him. He waived as if trying to be friendly. For the rest of this story, I'll refer to him as Pacho Man. I got up and thought about opening the door for Pacho Man, but relented, as I couldn't properly see who it was.

I didn't want to let a stranger into the house, and instead I went down the hall to my parents' bedroom where my mom was getting ready. She asked what was up, and I explained to her that a man in a poncho was outside our door and wanted to talk to us. She went white as a ghost. Immediately she stopped getting ready, closed and locked the bedroom door, and started checking

the windows to make sure that they were locked. I asked her, what's going on? My mom explained that as she was driving home, she had seen this man. He had been standing motionless on the side of the main street. As soon as my mom turned down our road, he started to walk, presumably, to follow her. She said that the encounter was bizarre, it was weird, but she thought nothing more of it. Why would somebody be out in the pouring rain, down a back road in the afternoon? It was

like he was waiting for someone or something. I started to panic as well. My mom called my aunt since their best friends, and she asked what we should do. My aunt told my mom to call the police immediately, so we did. We proceeded to pace around the room frantically looking out the windows to see if we could see the Pancho man. From where the bedroom was angled, it was impossible to see the front porch to see if he was still there, but we were desperate for anything. After what felt like hours we finally saw the police pull up. We carefully unlocked the bedroom door and went downstairs to let the officer in.

We explained what we saw, and he agreed to do a scan around the neighborhood. As he left, I noticed there was something on the door knob. I took it off, and it was a political ad for a candidate that was running for office. It's possible Ponceaux Man was just campaigning for the candidate, but there are a lot of holes in that story. It was pouring out, so why would you go door to door? And why would you go campaigning in such a rural neighborhood? The houses are so far apart, you'd barely make a dent on foot. The time doesn't make sense either.

Sure, my mom and I were home, but it was about four in the afternoon. Most people would still be at work, so you'd probably get a no from knocking anyways." Eventually the officer returned, and he found that the guy was down the road. He questioned him. Ponceaux Man was able to identify himself. He claimed that he was a political campaigner and was just knocking on doors for that reason. When probed further, conveniently enough, Poncho Man could not provide any other door signs, as the one that he had left on our house was the last one. That makes the guys of being out here to campaign even more absurd.

Our house is in the middle of the street. It's not like we were the last by any means, so why wouldn't you bring enough campaign materials for the whole street? Even the officer pointed out that this seemed like unusual behavior. Although the officer was suspicious of him, there was nothing that he could do about it, and there was no way to prove intent. He told us to be alert and not to hesitate to call if Pancho Man returns. Fast forward a few weeks, and I noticed that a police car seemed to be permanently stationed

down the road from us about a three-minute drive. I got curious and I asked my mom about it. She said that there were multiple break-ins in the houses down the road, and the police were doing some sort of sting operation. The poncho man encounter and the break-ends may be unrelated, but considering how this poncho man acted, I have a sinking feeling that they might be connected. Thankfully, for the past few months, we've heard and seen nothing of Ponceoman. We got a new doorbell system with the camera and the police no longer stationed themselves in the area where they were doing the sting. I hope that this whole situation is over and done with,

and that I never have to meet that poncho man. ["Poncho Man"] When my first German shepherd, Little Bear, died, she left behind a grieving owner and an equally grieving housemate named Rue. At only a year old, Rue was full of boundless puppy energy which diminished quickly after bear passed. A couple of weeks after bear's passing, a friend asked if I would foster a five-month-old German shepherd pup who had been recently re-homed three times.

He was anxious, nervous, and fearful, with an energy level that was off the charts. Within minutes of watching him and Rue together at my house, I knew he was going to be my first foster fail. Despite Finn's idiosyncrasies, he is by far the most snuggly and protective dog I've ever had. One morning, after a four-mile hike in a very remote park, I took the dogs to a waterfall across the road to get a drink of water. As we were headed down the trail, I noticed a man standing in front of the waterfall. I didn't think much of it as the waterfall was a popular

photography destination. As we got closer, I saw that the man was crouching behind some big rocks. I wasn't sure if he was trying to hide from me, or trying to get a better angle to take a picture, so I gave him a friendly hello, making him aware of my presence. When he heard me, he stood up very slowly and made his way toward me. In this menacing manner, Finn raised his hackles and began to growl while bearing his teeth. The man continued to approach until he was just out of reach of the dogs. By this point, both Rue and Finn were barking ferociously in complete protection mode. I stepped off the trail and told the man that I had a hold of them and politely asked him to pass us. He continued just glaring at

me unmoving, so I repeated myself. He said, I'm looking at your dogs. I had a knot in my gut, aware of what he meant. He was contemplating if it was worth trying to fight off two big German shepherds to get to me. Despite my internal panic, I firmly said, they're not friendly. Please pass." He muttered. I see that. After several seconds, he finally left us and lumbered toward the parking lot. As my heart raised, I watched the man until he was fully out of my sight, then decided to get out of there myself.

As we made our way back up the trail, I was praying that he wouldn't be in the parking lot. But he was. There were only two cars in the parking lot, mine and his, and of course, I had to pass his car to get to mine. He was standing between our two vehicles clearly waiting for me. Upon seeing him again, Rue and Finn immediately snapped back into protection mode. As I hurried past him, I remotely unlocked the doors to the truck while the dogs continued to bark ferociously, lunging at the end of their leashes. Anyone in their right mind would have backed off, but he just didn't. I threw up in the back door and tossed

Ru-in. As I did so I glanced over my shoulder and I saw the man, looming in my direction with intent, scrawled all over his face. Instinctively I grabbed Finn by the collar and held him between the strange man and me. Finn was completely losing his mind, ready to tear the guy apart if he stepped even an inch closer. Startled, the would-be attacker jumped backward. As he did so, I threw Finn into the truck, jumped in, and sped away down the road. Shaking, I pulled into a secluded laud at another park a few miles away and called the sheriff. The dispatcher assured me that she would send a couple of officers out to where I saw the man to have a look around.

About an hour later I received a call from the dispatcher letting me know that they picked the man up. He was still in the parking lot, probably waiting for a victim who didn't have two German shepherds with her. I called the sheriff's office the next day for an update and was told that the man was locked up for psychiatric evaluation. That day could have gone very badly, had it not been for my two furry protectors. So to the cryptic creeper in the woods, let's not meet again. to new business locations, minimizing the security risks of remote and hybrid work, protecting your data on the web

and in the cloud. With Spectrum Enterprise, our managed security and network solutions provide the assurance you need to improve digital experiences and face emerging threats with confidence. Because helping you secure your organization is part of what we do best. Visit enterprise.spectrum.com slash iHeart to speak with a technology expert. I'm a 26 year old female, but I was 25 when these events took place.

For reference, I'm five foot four, petite, and I have a lot of anxiety. In early June of 2020, I was working at a smoke shop in a rural town in North Carolina, usually commuting approximately an hour to get to work. This was around the time when the pandemic was first starting, but after most of the stay-at-home orders were called off for the state. Since COVID hit, the smoke shop that I worked for wasn't letting individuals into the store

due to sanitary concerns amongst the higher ups. This meant that I was working shifts alone. I worked the opening shift on this specific day, and didn't have anyone else coming in until later in the afternoon, probably around two. Business that day was pretty slow, and I didn't have many customers to tend to, so I cleaned up the shop. I was juggling, cleaning, and helping out those who needed curbside assistance, which we were offering at the time.

To clarify, the curbside assistance entailed the customer calling the store me pulling the order while they were on the phone and showing them products through the windows and instances where they needed to select the color, size, or brand of the item. After gathering their items, I had to keep them on the phone, go meet them out in their vehicles, and collect a form of payment and ID then go back inside, ring them out, then bring them their order. This day was like any other until about 12 p.m. A silver Tesla pulled up in front of the store, and out walked a pudgy older man who I had never seen before. I'd say he was

in his late 40s or early 50s. He, like many other that day, walked up and yanked on the doors, which were locked. I got closer to the window and made the universal gesture for phone, by pointing my pinky towards my mouth and my thumb towards my ear. He acted like he didn't understand, so I unlocked the door and told him that we weren't allowing anyone in at the moment due to the pandemic. I let him know that if he wanted something, he needed to call the shop, and I'd be happy to help him with whatever he was looking for. As a brief sidebar, I'm a very anxious person, and my anxiety manifests as if I'm super nice, excited, and willing to help rather than me curling up in a corner and having back-to-back

panic attacks. excited and willing to help rather than me curling up in a corner and having back-to-back panic attacks. So, to a lot of people, I seemed cheery and ready to get things done. Which is exactly how this man perceived me. He stayed outside his vehicle while he told me that he needed four boxes of 50 cream chargers, also known as Whipits. For anyone who doesn't know, these chargers are used by restaurants and other businesses

to make whipped cream. The more common use that I see more often than not is to get high off of them. You get a brief 30 second. I can't feel my face while I'm killing my brain cells kind of high. I put the phone down while I gathered up the cream chargers, I rang them up, and stuck them in a paper bag. When I looked to see where the man was, my heart beat quickened. The guy had his face in hands pressed up

against the glass. He was looking inside staring right at me. My heart skipped a beat, knowing that I would have to go out there two more times before I could get him out of here. I've dealt with plenty of pervy drug addicts during my three years working this job, but this man was looking at me with a predatory gaze. I quickly brushed off that feeling of dread and waved to him to let him know to go back to his car. Once he got into his car, I walked out to meet him at the driver's side window. He rolled his window down, and it smelled faintly of booze.

I gave him his total and asked for his ID and his method of payment. He gave them to me with almost no response, other than him barely being able to peel his white-and-eyes away from me. I started to feel extremely self-conscious, and my jean shorts and crop-top, but I took his things inside to complete the transaction. Once I finished, I grabbed the wavy bag, and I took it out to him. Thanking him for his purchase and begrudgingly inviting him to come back to CS once the shop is open to customers.

His response was chilling. Us? I don't see anybody else here with you right now. I felt a shiver crawl up my spine and quickly said, yep, me and the other guys who work here, my boss is out on his lunch break. To this he just smiled, looked me up and down insolatiously said, thank you, sweetie. With that I turned on my heels and I booked it back to the shop, hoping that the manager would come in sooner rather than later. A short while later, the whip-its creep pulled away in his silver Tesla, and I thought that

that was the end of it. Stupid me. As my shift continued, I wondered, what if he comes back? Will someone be here by then? Do I close any time this week? Will I be alone here the next time that he comes in? I decided to busy myself with something, hoping to calm myself down. I shook it off as best as possible, pushing the negative thoughts away. My boss called about 20 minutes later and let me know that he wasn't going to be in until after too. I resolved that I wouldn't

tell him anything about this creepy interaction until I saw him, face to face. I, once again, decided to busy my hands so that I could space out and stop thinking myself into oblivion. At around 1pm, I felt like I was suffocating in that building, so I figured I'd go outside to get some fresh air and feel the sun on my back while cleaning the windows. This would be a good idea, right? I grabbed my supplies and headed outside. When I was about halfway through, I was startled by the honking of a car. I turned around, and to my horror the same fucking man from earlier had the passenger window of his silver Tesla rolled down, yelling

at me to get my attention. Not wanting to be rude, I said something like, hope you're enjoying your products? To which he responded, oh definitely, I figured I'd come back to check on you since it looks like nobody's come by yet. My heart dropped. He had been watching this shop in the parking lot somehow. I assumed he parked somewhere that I couldn't see directly from my shop window and was monitoring the place. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. I guess I didn't respond fast enough since

the next sentence out of his mouth was, man, I'd pay you a hundred bucks for an hour, just for you to come wipe my windows down in a bikini. I simply laughed it off and said something like, no, that wouldn't be appropriate, plus I like this job while internally screaming bloody murder. He said something else that I didn't quite catch and sped off. My boss made it to the store about 30 minutes later. I let him know what happened, and he brushed it off and said that he would take care of this specific individual whenever they showed up again, so I didn't have to interact with them.

Basically, he wanted to make sure that the store could capitalize off of his business. I was fucking livid, to say the bare minimum. What kind of response is it when your only female coworker confides in you about a terrifying experience that she had while working alone? After that day, the Whippett's guy came back once a week, and I dealt with him almost every single time. Whenever he would come in, he would always call me beautiful or sweetie. One time he even called me sexy. Definitely not what you'd want to hear from somebody old enough to be your damn dad. When I bent down to reach up the whip bits, I could feel him staring at me. Whenever he would purchase anything with cash, he would always let me keep the change from my tip jar.

He even gave me an extra 21 time. It felt as if he was paying me hush money so he could keep coming in. Once, he only bought a pack of cream chargers which totaled $26.69 to which he replied, well, they got the $69 part right. He promptly handed me 30 and said, you can keep the change. Buy yourself some condoms for later. He winked at me before walking away.

That time my manager was there. He claimed that he didn't hear the condom comment and said, at least he left the rest of the money as a tip for you. I was baffled. I had no idea what to do or say. I just went out to my car and cried for my entire 30-minute lunch break. The last interaction that I had with this ass hat was when another one of my co-workers was in my shop.

They shared my experience with him previously, so when I told them that this was the man, my coworker told me to go to the bathroom. He told the man that I was on my lunch break, even though I had just clocked back in from that. I was hiding in the bathroom with the light off and the door cracked so that I could see what was going on. The guy came in and asked for me by my name. I had never told this guy my name once.

I stood in the doorway shaking. The man didn't speak a word to my coworker other than the basics, such as what kind of whippets and how many boxes he wanted. I watched as my coworker rang him up. The man handed him cash, but he took the change back instead of leaving it. He left in a rush and he was visibly angry. In my mind that meant one thing. This man desperately wanted to get me alone invulnerable again, to do what? I have no idea. But I sure as fuck didn't want to find out. After this incident, my boss transferred me to a different store, one that is much closer

to my home instead of an hour away. Occasionally I ask my old co-workers if the Whippitz creep still comes in. But he hasn't shown up in months since I stopped working there. I hope he never goes back there, especially since they hired a 23 year old woman to take my place. I let her know about the Whippitz guy. I just hope that he never gets a chance to pray on her as he did on me. So to the creepy perverted Whippet doing ass hat, let's never meet again.

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I had gone out with my parents to a local family restaurant that was quite well known. This restaurant sat on a hill overlooking the highway and had floor to ceiling windows that wrapped all the way around the building. We were seated at a booth near the front door. My mother sat closest to the windows, I sat next to her at the end, and my father sat across from my mother. Back in those days, a children's meal was an actual meal, not just chicken nuggets or grilled cheese. I ordered my favorite Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes. The dish also came with peas. Now I didn't like peas, but neither did my mother so I was never forced to eat them.

While we were dining, a large group of people came into the restaurant. They were obviously entertainers. There were women in silvery outfits, unitards with sequins and crystals, there were a couple of clowns and full makeup, some others in costume, and also a few people dressed in regular clothing. The hostess seated the group at a long table in an adjoining dining room. There were probably 15 people in their party. We didn't think any more about it, but assumed there was a circus nearby. As we enjoyed our dinner, one of the clowns from the circus group got up and approached our table.

I guess he thought he was going to give some little kid a thrill by getting up close. He crouched down next to me and started talking to me. He asked me my name and other general stuff. Instead of being impressed, I felt uncomfortable and enroached upon. I've always been an introvert, and this just didn't feel good. My parents looked on, but didn't say anything. Before the clown left the table, he said, reproachfully, eat your peas. I looked down and shyly responded, my mother says I don't have to." With him gone, we resumed our dinner. I happened to glance outside the window, and surprisingly, there was the clown, crouched down in the bushes outside of the restaurant.

When he saw me, he shook his finger and mouth to the words. Eat your peas." I quickly looked away. Although I was a child, I still thought it was very strange for someone even a clown to do this. I tried to focus on my dinner, but looked up and underneath the table, diagonal to ours, was the clown. Again, he was crouched under the table. He shook his finger at me again and said, eat your peas." I appealed to my parents. He's bothering me. My parents just told me to ignore him. My father

mumbled. I think he's been drinking." After that, everywhere I looked, the clown was there, peaking around the corner, peering over the back of the booth, hiding behind a pillar. He was everywhere. He was always shaking his finger at me and always mowling the words. Eat your peas. It was making me so scared to be singled out like this. I was tearing up but my parents just kept telling me to ignore him. Why didn't my parents do something? Or the restaurant hostess or the manager? Why didn't the others and his group come to get him?

He was hiding in places all over the restaurant. In the coat room behind the counter under the tables, just shaking his finger, saying, eat your peas. My father was not somebody to take any crap, so why was he not doing something? All I can figure is that he didn't want to make a scene and get into a fight with a clown in the middle of a restaurant. Eventually we finished and left. I lost my appetite.

I think the adults in this situation just thought the clown was having fun with me and playing a harmless game, but it wasn't fun. Not at all. It made me feel very anxious and it was starting to scare me. I wondered if he would follow us home. This happened a long time ago. I'm not afraid of clowns, but I don't like them. What kind of person is under that makeup? To the clown that teased a little girl

to tears all those years ago, let's never meet. The final story this week contains some graphic details about violence towards animals, listener discretion is advised. It was 1970-something. My father and mother had recently bought a home. My mother was very excited to have just purchased a brand new dining room table for her new dining room. They had been saving for a nice table for quite some time, and she was very proud of making this purchase. She invited a friend that she worked with to our house for dinner the very first evening after getting this table.

I don't remember the name of my mother's friend so we'll call her Susan. Susan and her husband both arrived for dinner and my mother was so excited to have them over. My mom boasted about her new dining room set and showed her guests all of the exciting details about the chairs and the wall that surface on the beautiful table. Everyone sat down at this table and enjoyed a drink while my mother finished cooking dinner. A few short minutes later my mother turned around to check on her guests, and Susan's husband was digging his fork into my mother's brand new table. In a total panic, my mother started yelling at him asking him what he was doing. The man simply laughed and told my mom, you're overreacting. She was devastated, and she asked Susan and her husband to leave.

The following days at work were awkward, and my mother and Susan quickly grew apart. Although Susan apologized, my mother was very saddened and confused by the interaction. After a few months passed, my mother and father relocated out of state. My mother quit her job and my father got a new job after they moved from California to Illinois. As time passed, my life took its unique course. My mother and father ended up divorcing and my mother moved to New York with my sister and me.

After a decade or so, my mother was cleaning out her phone book and came across Susan's phone number. She picked up the phone and decided to give Susan a call. She apologized to Susan for the way that their friendship had ended and asked her how it's been going. Susan caught my mom off guard and said, You wouldn't believe the story I have for you." Susan then began to recount the past ten years of her life, and what transpired between her and this husband. A short while after the incident at dinner, Susan was home alone and went into the shed

in the backyard to put away a tool for her husband that he left out. Inside the shed were bunnies and kittens all decapitated in a pile in the middle of the shed, left there by Susan's husband. In a state of shock, Susan put together a plan to leave her husband while he was at work. She filed for a divorce out of fear for her safety and she was able to get away from him. After some time passed, Susan, she was at work one day when the police walked through the front door and asked to speak with her. They said they had some questions about her ex-husband and needed her to be a character witness.

It was then that they shared that her ex-husband had been recently arrested. He was awaiting trial for picking up multiple sex workers tying them up with rope, dragging them behind his truck and leaving their bodies on the side of the road. So to the crazy serial killer guy who almost ate dinner with my family. I hope you're spending your remaining years in prison and let's not meet. 18T Fiber presents A Straight Forward 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 18T 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 Gigaillionaire with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability in select areas. Visit AT&T.com slash HyperGig for details. Make sure you stick around after the music if you're a patron for your at-free extended version of this week's episode. And if you'd like to get access to that

and a bunch of other bonus content, head over to patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast to sign up and support the show today. This week you have heard followed by drugged up gang members by June. Tales from Down East Main by I Am the Walrus 216. Creepy Man in a Pancho by a Ginger 6060. poncho by a ginger 60-60. Cryptic creeper in the woods by Nancy R. Whip its crepe by CL.

Eat Your Peas by Dana. And finally, I'm glad he didn't stay for dinner by Christine. All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's not meet a true horror podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online. Make sure you send your stories into Let's not meet a true horror podcast is not associated with Reddit or any of the message boards online. Make sure you send your stories into Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. And don't forget to check out the new episodes of my other podcasts like Odd Trails, my true paranormal podcast, as well as welcome to Paradise, It sucks, and the old time radio cast, all at crypticcountypodcasts.com or wherever you get your podcasts.

I'll see you next week. Stay safe. Sometimes when kids are desperate for control over their life. AT&T Fiber presents A Straight Forward 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 in select areas, visit AT&T.com slash Hypergate for details. 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.

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