Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - Let's Not Meet LIVE - Sacramento, CA

Episode Date: June 10, 2019

This is the first ever live performance of a Let's Not Meet episode. It was recorded at the Stab Comedy Theater in Sacramento, California for this years Sacramento Podcast Festival. Season 2 will return on June 16th! 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   

Wake up your taste buds with Java Jolt, the newest pint-sized flavor from Bluebell. This delicious coffee ice cream blends dark chocolate flavored chunks and a coffee-fudge swirl. It's the Jolt you need to make it through your day. So skip the coffee and grab a pint of Bluebell Java Jolt. Look for Bluebell ice cream at your favorite grocer. If you can't find it, ask for it. Well, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Sacramento Podcast Festival.

Give yourself a hand for being here. It's the first annual. Please welcome to the stage, you always already on stage. The Let's Not Meet Podcasts. Please welcome to the stage, always already on stage. The Let's Not Meet Podcast. Hey everyone. The story is called The Toothman. When I was about six years old in 2004,

my mom started taking my sister and I to Dr. Daniel's pediatric dental office. The dental center was located inside a giant yellow mansion that also doubled as Dr. Daniel's house. It was a gorgeous place. When I first started going to the dentist, I was extremely shy and actually suffered from selected mutism, and I had a lot of autistic like tendencies.

Needless to say, I relied heavily on my mother's comfort and for someone to give me a voice, because it was extremely anxiety inducing for me to talk to strangers, and especially men for some reason. When my sister and I got called into the waiting room, my mom followed us into the office until she was told by Dr. Daniels that parents were not allowed to be with their children, as it taught kids independence. My mother complied. Once inside, Dr. Daniels immediately separated my sister and I, and in reaction, I cried because I felt so scared.

Dr. Daniels did not like crying, so he grabbed me and put his hand over my mouth and nose, shook me, and aggressively warned me that if I continued to cry and scare the other kids that he would make my situation a lot worse. Obviously, this scared me even more so. I started crying again. Dr. Daniels had had enough. He took me into the part of the mansion that also served as his house where he screamed at me again, grabbed me by the neck and shoved me.

His dental hygienist Judy came over and told me that if I continued to cry that she would spank me so hard, I wouldn't know what hit me. Afterwards, he gave me a juice concoction and then left me alone in his house for about five minutes until he took me back into the digital office where he did work on my teeth. I guess I just instinctively knew that if I wanted to survive, I just had to act like I was not terrified and holding the tears. All I wanted was my mother. After the first appointment, my sister and I told my mom that we were scared of the dentist,

and that he was a mean man, but she just shook it off as me being an anxious child so we continue to see him. Each visit was just as terrifying. Everything was just awful, and every time we pulled into the mansion, my heart just melted away inside of my chest. I was so scared. It was no longer a pretty mansion to look at. Every time we went to the dentist, Dr. Daniels or the tooth man, as he called himself, would always make us have heavy dental procedures done. We had seals done on all kinds of baby teeth and plenty of teeth removed, some with his fingers, with no regard to pain level at all.

Often when having a tooth removed or seals done, your mouth had to be open with a retractor. He would leave us there with a retractor. He would leave us there, with the retractor on for about 45 minutes or so before he came in to work on our teeth. Sometimes, he would eat his lunch while I sat there with my mouth open. Probably one of the worst pains I've ever felt in my life. I remember one time when I was in third grade, and I had been leaned back in the chair, waiting with the retractor on for about an hour. I was in so much pain that I couldn't take it. I set up on the chair and tried to scream and cry as loud as I could. Dr. Daniels came rushing

over, angry as could be. Took my retractor off, and took me back into his house, where he screamed at me for being a big baby and scaring all of the other kids. I was so mad at myself because I hadn't cried in so long. He then took me back into his dental chair, pinned me down, into the seat, and put a straight check on me. He put my retractors back on and said that I would have to wait longer because I caused such a scene. All I could do was shed silent tears and drool everywhere. I couldn't even wipe it up because my arms were locked.

Afterwards, my mouth would become so swollen and filled with rashes that it hurt to talk for days. I would leave, it would leave bruises and swells as soon as I left his chair. He would often tell my mother I was a difficult patient, and if I so much is wince at his torture, he would make it worse. He once removed six teeth at once, and I could barely eat. While he ripped out the teeth, he would often sing songs.

When I was in seventh grade, I got braces, and we started to see an orthodontist. Not long after that, we stopped singing Dr. Dan and started singing a new dentist who was actually nice. I had never known that getting your teeth cleaned didn't have to feel like going through a saw trap. I think my mom took us out of Dr. Dan's practice when the orthodontist looked at her dental records and saw a lot of unnecessary procedures being done on our mouths. Not long ago, I was having a conversation with a friend who brought up some childhood fears

that instantly brought back the tooth man to my mind. Curious, I googled him to see what had happened to him and to my happiness the practice was shut down. Also left under his name was a Yelp page that had been left up. The page was filled with numerous one-star reviews, and from former patients that were once abused as kids in his office using the page as an outlet to express their trauma. I started to cry because their experiences were so close,

and some identical as to what I went through when I was a kid. I was so sad, but at the same time, it was really validating to know that I was not alone. A lot of the procedures that we went through were just a scam for him to collect money off of the patients and the parents insurance. Now that I think about it, he probably was so adamant about us not crying and screaming for help because he didn't want the parents to hear and come in to see what was going on. I shake just thinking about things like this. I really pray that he hasn't opened up

another practice somewhere. I know it's hard not to blame parents in this situation, but the truth is the man is a swift abuser and for every bruise and swell that we would have, he would have dental explanations as to what was happening. He would make the parents feel stupid for believing us. To Dr. Dan, please let's never meet again, and to the parents reading this, if you are ever told not to go into an appointment, something is wrong. And I did pull up the Yelp page, and I just want to read a couple of the Yelp reviews.

Abuse this children, do not let your kids anywhere near him. He needs to be put out of business for good. Do not go see this man. He's an awful person, an awful dentist, and a child abusing pile of trash. He will hurt your children. Do not go here. Dr. Dan, as I remember him, was a nightmare as a child.

He terrorized me and my brother in the Winchester Center growing up. We have memories of him spanking us, accosting us, and popping out nine teeth at a time with his thumbs. I recommend you steer far, far away from this man. You've been warned. I hope you enjoyed that first story from the live episode of Let's Not Meet a True Horror

Podcast, unfortunately, due to copyright issues with some of the music and sounds that were used in the live episode, we are not able to air those stories. However, I have attached two stories that are only available on the Patreon. They're exclusive Patreon stories, so the majority of you have probably not heard these before, and I'm excited to get to share them with you. It's a sneak peek on exactly all the content that's going to be available on the Patreon if you were curious about joining and supporting the show. I'll jump back in at the end of the episode for the credits. in at the end of the episode for the credits. Window Ninja of Ilesson or Alice.

I had just gotten out of a long-term relationship and was just doing the single thing and running around with friends. We had made plans to go to the theater one night to see a disco version of a mid-summer night's dream, because disco Shakespeare. It was a nice evening, and I was hungry, so I decided to eat close to the theater before we met. I parked in a very close, very well lit parking lot, even though it was the middle of the afternoon, because I knew how we all got when we did things it would be really late by the time we left to go home, and there were supposed to be fireworks on the river that night.

As I walked to the restaurant, a somewhat scraggly-looking guy gave me the Joey Trivillani how you'd do in, and I nodded and smiled, but did not slow down. I walked to the restaurant and sat at the bar. I'm not much for taking up a table when I'm by myself, particularly when I plan on being leisurely with my meal. I ordered my food and broke out my book. There were several people at the bar, and one was a nice-looking lady that was sitting about three or four stools down from me.

I registered her talking to someone at some point during my meal, and I realized it was the guy from down the street. He was sitting with a bar stool between us, and talking very excitedly. I noticed her leaving, but again, I was reading, eating, and enjoying a glass of wine. began, I was reading, eating, and enjoying a glass of wine. It was at that point that I noticed the man began to talk loudly to the bartender who was dismissing him with short answers and going about his job. I think the first time the conversation got my attention was when the man said, oh yeah, well, I kill my own rabbits. I use a slingshot and I've gotten pretty good at it.

What in the world? I mean, I live in a southern state, but I haven't picked up on killing rabbits as an normal event. I made the mistake of looking up when he said this, and that's when he started talking to me. He said the thing that all public book readers hate to hear. So what are you reading? Look, I'm reading.

It means don't talk to me. I answered and tried to go back to my book. He said, what are you doing tonight? I told him I was going to disco shake spear with my friends and he started to ask if they had a ticket for him. I said no, that we used all our tickets. No extras. He said he'd see about buying one. He quoted some hamlet at me and then said how he felt very close to holding golf field, which as everyone knows is a huge red flag. He then asked if I liked fishing. I said that I didn't. He said, I think

you would if you tried it. We should go fishing right now. You have time before the play. And he started telling me how he has a property with a huge lake and lots of fish. The whole thing had been walking that line of weird and normal, like a drunk staggering on both sides until this next part. He said that in his pond there was a huge carp that was eating all the other fish, and he was trying to get it out. He couldn't catch it, but he had heard that if he could get a used tampon to use his bait that he would for sure catch it. I can't even imagine what my face must have looked like right then. I said I didn't know anything about how that would work and I didn't know who would offer something like that up. He said,

oh well, I have another plan with a bit of net and grappling hooks. I can wait until he comes by, throw down the net, and stab him with the hooks. Sure, you could go do that. He said, I'm sure you have time to go fishing with me. I'll have you right back here. I told him that I was sure I didn't have time.

I was in dress for fishing. I didn't like to fish. I don't like killing things." He said, "'Oh, you don't know what you're missing. There's a great deal of satisfaction in killing your own food. I kill rabbits, squirrels, and you know. People say you should stick to the seasons and stuff, but there's no better

eating than a fawn. I know it's illegal, but baby animals taste better. At this point, I started furiously texting my friends, trying to calm because this guy isn't not right. He's starting to veer off into some creepiness that I want no part of. He said, I know. Since you can't go fishing, let's go watch the fireworks.

I assured him that I was doing that with my friends. We had plans, but he said, I know a really secluded spot down by the river, no one ever goes there. I honestly don't remember a lot of what he said at this point because I'm texting and telling people

where I am so that they can come get me. It's already gone too far for me." He said, How about you come swimming at my pool tomorrow? I said that I definitely had plans. He said, Just give me your number and I'll call you to see if the plans fall through. I hesitated because I've seen that quote,

No, I'm not going to give you my number thing. Go really badly before. So I gave him my office number, which, incidentally, was the fugitive division of the local police department. I hadn't been in my division long, and I didn't know everybody well enough to call the department or one of the officers I worked with. Now, I would send a 911 text to one of my guys and wait for the calvary. At that point, I was just hoping that one of them would walk in and see that I was in distress.

He poked my number into his phone and then he glared at me. He had called my number to see that it was a real number. He started yelling, your phone isn't ringing, this isn't your number. I'm glancing at the bartender who's given me sympathetic looks, but not taking a stand. I assured him that it wasn't the phone that I had with me, but it was my number. At this point, he slid his business card over to me. The window ninja. Naturally. He said, well, let's go walking. By this time, I was not leaving that bar stool.

I was clinging to it, like a life raft. My people were coming. And I was leery about standing. He was a lot bigger than I was. And so far, nobody in the bar had shown any signs that they'd jump in if he really got to be too much. He already had yelled at me. I said, no, my friends are coming to pick me up. They're on their way. You won't go walking with me. You won't give me your number. What should I do now, huh?

What should I do now, huh? And with that, he grabbed the back of my head, licked my neck, and up my face, and walked out. I was so stunned that I couldn't even react. I was shaking all over, and now I'd been licked by a stranger who wanted to use my tampon as bait for fish that he wanted dead. At that point, my friends came up, and one of the guys came in and escorted me out to the car. Later on, I talked to one of my co-workers who yelled,

you call us next time, and I knew he meant it. I took the car to work with me on Monday, and we looked him up in the public database, it turns out he was a registered sex offender. Not that it was a surprise, but just typing this all out has made me lightheaded, and I know how much of a bullet I really dodged, so to the window ninja, let's never ever meet again. His next story is from a listener named Allie.

I'm not going to give the full title because it kind of gives away the story. It's titled My Crazy Downstairs Neighbor. When I was around 20, I lived in the top half of a South Minneapolis duplex with four guys. I'm a woman. And this living situation was a bad idea, but the story isn't about them. Though I do have plenty of Let's Not Meet Calibur stories about those idiots if you want to hear them. It was 2009, and I was a college student. The rent that this duplex was cheap. It was on the bus line, to the U, and my job. And the landlord let me have this little garden in the back.

It was pretty nice until trouble started with the downstairs neighbor's son. Me and this group of rowdy boys lived above a nice lady, her son, and a little girl who we found out later wasn't even related to them. Now we probably weren't great to live under. The guys I lived with were rowdy morons, but I was on normal acquaintance speaking terms with the nice lady, and we'd say hi in such. With her son it was different. Let's call him Tony.

It was probably 16 or 17. And he thought that he was really tough. He wouldn't acknowledge you or say hello back. Not that I really cared. I didn't have many interactions with him before he cornered me in the basement laundry area one day. Crossing his arms and stealing his gaze, he asked if I smoked weed.

I said yes. He proceeded to tell me that he could get me a pound of weed that afternoon, no problem, confused by the statement and the cocky way he delivered it, I said no thanks, and continued on with my laundry. He lingered long enough for me to be creeped out, and after he left I went upstairs to make fun of him to my roommates. Fast forward a few weeks later, me and my dumb roommates are upstairs in our apartment, smoking weed, watching adult swim and goofing off, like people in the early 20s do.

Out of nowhere we hear some shouting downstairs, which is unusual for the neighbors. And suddenly, we all hear two gunshots followed by screaming. The air goes out of the room, and we obviously freak out and quickly decide to call the police. Not wanting to leave the apartment, we watch the door downstairs and see men dragging Tony out of the house. His mom looks terrified. They're all shouting and they get in the car and leave. The cops come and we're directed to stay in our apartments, so we do for the next two hours.

They won't even let us have a smoke on the porch to calm our nerves. Cops around and swarm the house, searching it and taking our statements. The police tell us later that they broke down the door and found bullets lodged in the floor, in a puddle of blood. A man matching Tony's description was at the hospital with a gunshot wound in his foot, and it was determined that a drug deal had gone bad. To this day, I think about what would have happened if this warning shot had been upwards, and towards our apartment, instead of down into his foot. Sorry, Tony.

I'm glad it was your foot. Still, 11 years later, I have extreme anxiety about being randomly shot. I wish it ended there, but a few days later, Tony gets out of the hospital and we see him come home bandaged up. His mom knocked on the door and let us know what happened. And it must have been me that let it slip, that we were the ones who called the cops. We called 911 because we heard screaming in a gunshot, pretty textbook case for calling the cops, right? But Tony must have felt wronged and comes up to confront us. He brings back up. Two big men with him.

I answer the door and he starts screaming about how we shouldn't have called the cops and he's going to make us pay for it. He doesn't listen to my apology and I realize this conversation isn't going to work for me. Remember I lived with four dudes who were all bigger than me and this whole situation was above my pay grade. So I closed the door and sent my roommate over to deal with it. And when they start screaming at him and physically threatening him, my roommate slams the door

and locks it. All the dudes outside lose it. Tony and the guys with him are screaming at the back door, saying that they're going to beat the shit out of us and kicking and punching the door. I'm kind of panicking in the living room when I start to hear banging and screaming from somewhere else. The front door. Three more men at the front this time.

So we're trapped in our second story apartment, with Tony and his crazy friends at both doors, who are banging and screaming about how they want to fuck us up Honestly, I'm not sure what happened next because I Must have completely disassociated and ran upstairs to my roommates room As far away from the doors as I could I cried and I hid Eventually they went away because my roommates threatened calling the cops again. A little peace inside of me broke.

I didn't feel safe in my house. I was absolutely terrified to do the laundry for weeks, but then Tony disappeared for a while. So, skip forward to a couple more months and I see Tony occasionally, but I never speak to him. And I keep a white distance, not even Minnesota nice. I know when he's home because of the sky blue mid-90s Chrysler sedan, a shitty car that he parks in the driveway. So poorly, others can barely park alongside of him. One day, it's springtime, and I walk home down the alley from my bus stop after school. I walk through the backyard and pass the driveway where I noticed the door to Tony's car

was left wide open. Dumbass, I think, for hustling into the house to savor the brief amount of time that I get to be alone before I need to go to work. I putts around for a couple of minutes before I go into the kitchen to make a snack, but before I can even consider what to eat, I stare at the window horrified. From the second story window, I can see giant plumes of smoke and flames

from the driveway, and I smell thick, melting plastic and gasoline. I clamber onto the kitchen countertops and gaped downwards. Tony's car is engulfed in almost two stories of fire. How it could burn that high is absolutely beyond me. Obviously I call 911 and tell them everything, and what I'm sure was a dumb-struck tone. I went outside to get a different angle on this giant fire, and I noticed that the door

isn't open anymore. Tony runs out of the house at this point and starts yelling that they fire bombed me over and over again. The firefighters come and put out the car and no one asks me any questions. After all of the erratic behavior from Tony throughout the time that he lived with us, I really think that he did it. The burnt out shell of the car stayed in the driveway for weeks and at this point our landlord had the house foreclosed and they didn't care about removing it.

After this, we lived in the house a little longer but we didn't see Tony again. The little that I did interact with him was pretty terrible. So Tony, let's not meet ever again. Hope you all enjoyed those stories and thanks for listening. Again, that was Window Ninja by Alice, my Crazy Downstairs neighbor by Allie, and that first story was The Toothman by Enormous Radio. All the stories in this week's episode 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. And if you want to hear your story on the show, send it into Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Thanks for listening everyone. See you in the next episode. Management concepts optimizes your professional development. Online in-person, individually, or groups. It's training that's measurably better. Learn more at managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com.

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