Morbid - December Bonus Episode: Secrets of the S.K. Pierce Mansion with Special Guests Sam & Colby

Episode Date: December 14, 2025

It’s a paranormal crossover for the ages 👻 In this very special bonus episode, we’re joined by YouTube’s resident ghost-hunters Sam & Colby as we talk about our investigation of one of the most infamous haunted locations in America: the S.K. Pierce Mansion. Known for its dark history, aggressive energy, and “absolutely not” vibes, this house did not come to play. To take things to the next level, Sam & Colby brought in three psychics to independently tap into the mansion’s energy, and what they uncovered was chilling, emotional, and occasionally “we should probably leave right now.” From unsettling validations to shocking overlaps in what each psychic sensed, this investigation got intense fast. Grab your EMF readers, light a protection candle, and join us for a bonus episode where we go behind the scenes of the investigation CURRENTLY AVAILABLE on Sam & Colby's Youtube Channel!Subscribe to Sam & Colby's Channel here and WATCH the episode! Want to visit the S.K. Pierce Mansion? Click here to experience it firsthand!  Cowritten by Alaina Urquhart, Ash Kelley & Dave White (Since 10/2022)Produced & Edited by Mikie Sirois (Since 2023)Research by Dave White (Since 10/2022), Alaina Urquhart & Ash KelleyListener Correspondence & Collaboration by Debra LallyListener Tale Video Edited by Aidan McElman (Since 6/2025) Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Hey, weirdos, I'm Elena. And I am Ash. And this is morbid. Because it's listener tales. Brought. Brought to you, fuck, fuck, you thly all. Brought to you, buy you, for you, from you, and all about you, baby. Yes.

We're in a listener tale mood today. It feels right. Yeah, it does. It's like dark and spooky outside. Yeah, the vibe is right. We're feeling a little punchy, which is always like, Chef's Kiss for a Listener Tale. I'm saying.

Always. Always feeling punchy. Today we learned that there's going to be a tsunami. I don't think it's an actual tsunami. Oh, it's not? I thought he was for real. One of our friends was like, there's going to be a tsunami today. I thought he was serious.

No, he was saying it's like a tsunami in L.A. Oh, he meant it's just like wet there. I thought that motherfucker really meant a tsunami was going to hit. And I was like, that's weird because I watched the news this morning. and there was nothing about that. I'm screaming. I really thought. I'm screaming.

Oh my God, I really. That makes sense because he also said it so casually. Of course he did. But I was like, what? Well, I was going to say my thoughts are with y'all and I hope that you're not going to get hurt. But like, I guess it's just raining. So, fuck me, right? Our thoughts are with you.

Our thoughts are with y'all because it's raining in L.A. Wow. I'm so spent right now. What the fuck? I'm screaming. That's really funny. That makes sense why, like, he wasn't really that nervous about it. You weren't.

In my head, I was like, everyone's acting so casual about this potential tsunami. I also was like, all right, so if that's in California, like, how far is that kind of effect? Oh, man. Lowy Kazawi. All right. Really sorry that you guys are having a rainy day. And also, same. We also are happy.

Don't use the term tsunami casually. My God. We're going to confuse people out here in these streets. Literally about to throw a thoughts and prayers out. I was. For like a rainy day. Thoughts. I was going to throw some thoughts out.

That's about it. Just for a rainy day. I was just going to say, my mind is with you. Oh, okay. Thoughts and hugs. All right. Love and light to you guys on your rainy day. I was going to say no way to transition out of this now.

Yeah, this is really not. But we're going to start my listener tales episode right now. And it's called... Oh, it's just yours? Just mine. Just yours? I meant to say my listener tale story. Yeah.

The prison ghost wants to drag me to hell because he likes my long blonde hair. Ooh. So is this to you? I was going to say now I'm nervous. It says, hey, my sexy morbid bitches, said love, of course, always. Are you ready to hear about the time I was almost dragged to hell by a prison ghost? Yes, I am. Well, too fucking bad.

because first I'm going to gush as everyone does. That's okay. Love the podcast. It's almost the end of 2022. Haza! And I just started listening in February and I'm almost always, wow, I'm already almost caught up. I'm all right. Like eight EPS behind.

That's right. I listened to four years worth in 10 months, so I might be a bit obsessed. We love you. That's okay. Also, my apologies to Ash, but I started at the beginning. Yes, the audio has gotten so much better. But it wasn't terrible at the beginning. If you ever need a third sister, I volunteer.

I'd fit right in. I'm in the middle of you guys in ages. That's kind of cool. Oh, that is cool. I swear, I often think of Ash's jokes before she says them. I, too, am a writer. Still unpublished, but whatever. Chase that dream girl.

And my final selling point, I'm a Virgo, which is basically the cool version of a Capricorn. Sorry, Elena. That's actually very true, but you don't have to be sorry because that's in Elena's big three. That's very true. I have a Virgo in there. Yep.

So I'd fit right in. That's in a fast kissing. onto the story of how a prison ghost wanted to drag me to hell. I live in the ass crack of America, aka the Midwest. Sorry. For anyone not from there, let me spell it out for you. The Midwest fucking sucks. I'm not saying this.

I'm reading it. And there's shit all to do. So of course, when my co-worker page suggested we go to an overnight prison ghost tour, I said yes. I would do that here. I would do that wherever. And we live in Boston where lots of things are going on. I would do that.

I would do that wherever I lived. Yeah, to be clear, I'm not a ghost person. I believe they might exist, maybe, but I've never encountered one. Oh, they exist. I was out of real Boston there. I was like, encountered one. I never encountered a fucking ghost, Ken. You, that keeps happening to me lately.

I don't know what's happening if I'm just reverting. Have you seen Papa a lot lately? Maybe that's what it is. But I think it's when we started the podcast. I tried to do the dialect thing, which is like stifle the accent because I didn't want it to be super annoying to anybody listening. And so I kind of did that light. what actors do, I guess, where they, like, just get rid of an accent.

Did you really? I tried to stifle it a little. Yeah. But I've become like, well, you guys know me now. Yeah. And it falls out every once in a while. People seem to think it's fine. I don't think anybody's worried about it.

So the other day, I think it was yesterday, actually. I said something to John. And I was like, well, we can just go back to tag it. It's fine. And he was like, to what? To tag it. To tag it. To tag it.

To tag it. To tag it. I love it. And the girls were like, she said tag it. dad. Like, they're just like, we know what that is. The girls are like our biggest height men, but especially yours. Even I will be like, oh, mama's gross. Like if you burp or something and they're like, no, she's not. Oh, they are my little army. I was joking. I love it. John's always like, oh my God. Yeah, he doesn't. And it's just, and it's just a group of like Capricorns coming out.

I know. He doesn't stand a chance. And DeVirgo. So there you go. But yeah, it's great. But tag it. You'd think I would have plenty of ghost stories since I live in a fucking old house. probably not as old as yours, Elena. But I'm not sure as I don't know how old your house is or exactly how old mine is. Old houses. Old houses. We have a water bill from 1904 that says old house, but that's it. Fuck, not even three paragraphs in, and I'm already off track.

I did warn you. Honestly, relatable. Anyway, Paige and I decided to go to the Missouri State Prison for an overnight ghost tour. This sounds so fucking cool. I've included links to the prison, which does daytime historical tours that I think would be cool. as well as ghost tours. I've also included a link for the company that does ghost tours all over the countries. I'm sure that's cool.

There's cool ones near you if you're so inclined. I am. You know, I've never done a Boston ghost tour. That's funny. I have. I've done one on a whim. I want to do the nighttime one. It's fun.

Yeah. It's really fun. I want to go back. I want to ghost hunt again with Sam and Colby. Yeah, manifest it. Like, it's happening again. We've already, like, whether they want us to or not. I know.

It's like, we're coming. We're essentially forcing a friendship and it's fine, okay? Hey Sam and Kobe, we love you. I'm just kidding. Like we're just like, we're coming back with you. They're actively pending restraining orders as we speak. That's a no-go. It's a no-go for me, ladies.

So, whatever. We're just kidding. So the ghost tour started at 10 p.m. And went until 6 a.m. So we ate at Red Robin. Yes. Onion rings ever. Oh, lies.

No, no. Oh, Outback State House. Steakhouse. Oh, the bloomin onion, baby. And they headed out. It was about a two and a half hour drive to Jefferson City. The universe really decided to set the fucking stage because it was a cold, rainy night. It knew what you wanted.

And super fun. The road to Jefferson City is a one lane twisty fucking highway. There I was feeling like Fred driving the Scooby gang to the abandoned castle where I would inevitably and stupidly say, let's split up gang. The tour starts and I'm skeptical. Some spirits were lighting up some orbs. people, including me and Paige, were feeling such things like cold breezes, hands grabbing us, etc. But still, I was skeptical because Virgo, remember? You felt hands grabbing you and felt skeptical about that. Because I got to tell you, like, I'm a Capricorn. I'm skeptical as

fuck. But as soon as it goes touched you. As soon as it goes blue into my ear, I was like, well, okay, I changed my entire outlook on all of this. Yes. A little ghost baby put their finger into my fucking back. And I, I've never been a skeptic, though. Luce. You say. Anything could light an orb, ever heard of batteries and remote controls. And it could have been just in our heads that something was grabbing us. The thunder and the lightning and the cold, dark prison could easily make our minds play tricks on us. I became a little more convinced when we went to the gas chamber where prisoners were actually killed. The people running the tour had some kind of box. I'm not a ghost hunting expert, so I don't know the official name, okay? The box supposedly lets you talk to spirits or whatever. What's that called? I think it's a spirit box. actually. There's a spirit box and then there's the Oculus. There's two different ones. As a group, we crowded into the theater. Yes, there was essentially a theater to view the executions. There still is. And asked this box questions. It was muffled and otherworldly, but there were answers coming from the box. Not sure that this, not sure, that could have been

also rigged somehow, but it seemed real. I can't explain it. There was just something in the air. Maybe ghosts are real? A little later, we were in the gen pop cells doing the whole box. experiment again, but with a twist. This time, one person put on headphones so only they could hear the ghosts, and they could also hear the questions we were asking. They also couldn't hear the questions we were asking either.

Some annoying guy went first. He was getting some interesting answers, but Paige and I both wanted to punch him in the throat. You know how some people just give off that gross energy? Yes. That was that guy. The tour guide asked for another volunteer, and some girl went, but she couldn't really hear anything.

The tour guide then asked if anyone, else wanted to go. Somebody from the second floor said, can I try? The tour guide said, sure. And that's when we realized I was the dumb fuck who had asked the question. Oh my God, I'm dead. Page and I go down, and with everyone's eyes on me, I placed the headphones on. Looking back, I wonder how clean they were, but that's another matter. Fowl. With the headphones on, I couldn't hear anything other than the sounds of the other side. It's hard to describe how it sounded, almost staticy, but also kind of woozy like water. A little while ago, NASA released the sound from a black hole. Yeah, they did. Go listen to that. That's exactly what it sounded like. Maybe black holes are portals to other

realms? I think so. Anyway, all I heard was the whooshy side. I love that she just drops that theory. She's just like, I don't know. Maybe black holes are portals to other realms. Moving on now. Anyway, all I heard was the whoushi static at first until I heard a voice, a deep and disembodied voice. Did you ever do that thing as a kid where you tried to tell you. to your friends underwater at the pool. Yeah. This voice sounded like that. I was going to say, we still do that.

We're doing that out here. Mixed with that static whooshing sound. The voice said yes a couple of times. Then the voice said, shut the fuck up. We had been warned that the spirits often cursed and made sexual remarks. No shock. These were murders, after all. Then the voice seemed to get angry and it screamed,

Leave us alone. This was very scary for me, and I assumed there were multiple spirits around that wanted to be left alone. Then the voice said, none of your fucking business. Whatever spirit we connected with was getting angry. The spirit said, yes, I love it. And then the spirit

practically screamed, none of your fucking business. Jesus. Then the scariest sound of all came through those headphones. Silence. The static and woohing gone. And then through the static, up from the bowels of hell, I heard my name.

Clear as day, the spirit said, Jessica. Ladies, no lie. honestly almost shot myself. That is not hyperbole. I literally squeezed my cheeks together. I do not blame you. Just as suddenly as it stopped, the static whooshing came back. The spirit once again said with increasing anger, leave us alone. Then the silence was back. It lasted twice as long as before. And then once again, clear as day, the voice said, Jessica. The last syllable was barely out before I yanked those headphones off. How did that spirit know my name?

No one had said it all night. I hate that. I was cold. And yes, I know it was cold, but I'm always hot. And I had not been cold prior to this. And I couldn't stop shaking. Whatever I was hearing through those headphones was another realm of that I am sure. Absurd.

Sorry. Whatever I heard through those headphones was from another realm of that I am certain. There you go. I'm bouching your writing. How dare you? As we all moved through around the prison, Paige told me what the group had been asking. And weirdos, what she told me, still sends, shivers down my spine. I was dying to know what they were asking. They started with some

innocuous questions where the spirit was saying yes. The worker had told us that the spirit liked blondes. And guess who's a dumb fucking blonde? Me too. Apparently they had asked the spirit if he liked my long blonde hair and he said yes. That was when he said, leave us alone. That's right. It wasn't a bunch of spirits that wanted to be left alone. It was the spirit wanting to be left alone with me. And when they asked the spirit why he wanted to be left alone with me, the spirit said none of your fucking business. I think we can all assume that ghost wasn't the Casper type and didn't want to just show me to his cool jail cell.

Probably not. They tried to ask the spirit's name and that's when it became angry and told us to mind our own business again. The spirit once again had asked for them to leave us alone. So yeah, apparently a spirit of a maximum security inmate liked my hair and wanted to be left alone with me. And oh yeah, the spirit somehow knew my name. That's so fucked up.

I was trembling for about an hour afterwards. Those headphones had maybe allowed some small piece of hell to enter my body through my ears. Never before have I been so happy that I have excessive ear wax. Relatable. After the group tour, around 3 a.m., we were allowed to explore the prison alone, and we could borrow some ghost hunting equipment too.

That's cool. There weren't any more of the fancy boxes, but we were able to borrow those rods that worked very well for Paige. We returned to the scene of the attempt, did hellish abduction and we heard it. On the third floor in the empty darkness, there was a distinct clicking.

Like someone banging on the bars of a cell. The rods wanted us to follow the noise. I had so many goosebumps, and I honestly don't know if my legs would have let me go towards the noise, even if I had wanted to. Page and I held hands as we stared into the abyss. You know that Homer Simpson meme

when he's backing into the hedges? It's one of my faves. We recreated that as we have back down the stairs. We returned those rods and left that prison as fast as our fat Midwestern legs would let us. We were both convinced that noise was the same spirit trying once again to grab me and drag me down to hell. I was scared.

On the way out, we told the spirits thank you and asked them not to follow us home. Smart. We'd been told to do that when we left, but after meeting one that wanted me, we knew we absolutely had to. The ride home was quiet. It was still dark and rainy as I drove us down a windy one-lane road again. Page fell asleep, which I think we can all agree is the last thing the passenger is supposed to do, right? Yeah, you've got to stay awake, curly. The passenger is supposed to make sure

the driver stays awake, but that is besides the point. I didn't even have the radio on. I literally drove in silence thinking about my experience. I was a skeptic before, but I fully believe that I was in contact with something from the other side in those headphones. I never want to be in that kind of contact with a ghost again. Although Paige and I have been looking at other ghost tours near us, like I said, Ask Crack of America, not a lot of entertainment options. That's it. That's my tale of how I was almost kidnapped to hell by a prison ghost who liked my hair. Maybe opt for a bad hair day if you know you'll be encountering ghosts. Thanks for reading this ladies and don't forget to keep it weird, but not so weird that your hair attracts a long dead criminal who wants

to be alone with you for nefarious reasons. P.S. Don't feel obligated to read this part. You're like, don't read this. I was like, don't read it. I thought it said don't read it. It says don't feel obligated. It says, don't feel, you know what, I don't feel obligated, but you wrote it. Yeah. I knew I gushed over you guys, but I seriously love your podcast and find you inspiring. That's really nice of you. Thank you. I just finished two master's degrees. The fuck. I'm shouting that from the fucking rooftops. Two master's degrees. Jessica. And got a new job. Hell yeah. And listening to the pod was motivating during study time. That's fucking awesome. I also started my own true crime podcast with all my free time, I'll. Tell me you're a Virgo without telling me you're a burgo. It's an international true crime

podcast where I go to a different country every week. I love that. Oh, that's a very great. It's called, is everybody ready with your pens to write it down? It's called Have Murder Will Travel. If you listen to it, start with the Canadian episodes because that's where the audio got better. You are one of us. I don't know, Jessica. I think I'm going to start at the beginning, Jessica. I'm like you guys in that my audio was not so good in the beginning and I know it could still be better.

Anyways, I really just wanted you ladies to know that you were an inspiration to me and I'm sure others as well. Bye. Jessica. Thank you so much. That's fucking awesome. And everybody go listen to that podcast. I'm going to listen to it. And congratulations on two motherfucking master's degree.

Yeah, what a badass. Damn. I would have wanted to drag you to hell too. I mean, yeah. You're a catch. And you've got long blonde hair. What are you talking about? You gorgeous, smite, you're driven.

You're a Virgo. You look like Linda Evangelista. There you go. I love. With long blonde hair. Mm-hmm. That's wild. That's a scary.

That's basically, when we were on the ship, the USS Salem. That, they were sailors. So they were cursing. They were not super respectful. No. And then at the end they were like, we don't want to see ladies, get the fuck off here forever. I think we were so horrified by them that maybe they were like, all right, then leave. I think they also didn't like that we cursed a lot.

Yeah, I don't think we were their kind of ladies. Yeah. In the beginning, they were very gross. Like, remember when Colby handed me the box and it just started saying like the most foul things ever? Didn't it literally say like spread? Yeah, it literally said bed. Yeah. And it said spread and tease.

And I was like, you can have this back. I literally just handed it back. And then when I handed it back to him, it was like knee broken. Like you just started talking about like whatever cold things. And I was like, what the fuck? Yeah, that shit was not cute. I was terrified. Oh, that was a scary one.

But I want to go. I don't know if I want to go back to the USS Salem. I think I got everything I needed. I would go back there again. I thought it was, but I really want to go. I mean, I want to go to like the Velisca house really bad. I just need to see that. I want to go to the Velisca house, but everything in my body is saying, don't do that. Don't do that, girly girl.

There's a few that I want to go to. So hopefully we'll be able to. Yeah, I agree. Near future. Yeah, even Sam and Colby said that the Velisca Axe House was very intense. Was one of the most intense. Yeah. I think, I've just never been ghost hunting before and that was the first time. So it was a lot of fun. I was like the first like real time. Yeah, it was a lot of fun. But thanks, Jessica. Thank you, Jessica. You're a fucking baller. You are. Listener tale, my grandmother, or my grandma, excuse me, is reincarnated into my brother. I'm obsessed with that.

That's really cool. It says, hi. Sorry for the length. Never be. But I put this story into a word document for an easier read. Thank you so much. Hi, ladies. My name is Tatum, and you can use my name and all the names involved.

I love how you spell your name. I do too, and that's one of my favorite names. I've been a listener for years and have many different spooky or odd stories that I share on various occasions, but I've been contemplating for a while now sending this story. in. But I have listened back on episodes where reincarnation is mentioned, so I figured why not share my experience. Let's go. I'm so sorry that this is so long, never be, but the background is needed to understand the impact of the story. First, hearing, quote, my grandma is reincarnated into my little brother. Some people don't believe it until I tell them my entire story. So get ready.

To start, my dad's parents died tragically when he was 14. It was a murder, suicide, leaving my dad and his younger siblings as orphans until my great-grandparents, my grandma's parents, took them in and raised them. Flash forward to when my dad was 22, he and my mom were married, and he had me three years later had my sister, and three years after that, they had my brother. My dad's siblings were all younger than him, so they began having kids when I was about 11, making all my cousins at least 10 years younger than me. So in 2015, my dad's brother and his wife just had a baby and were planning on having more after a little time it passed. Being that my family is the type to never not have a baby in the family, I love that.

My parents contemplated if they should have just one more before they go too far and too, quote, advanced maternal age. Oh, we love to hear that statement from a... It's a much nicer way to say it. Than geriatric pregnancy. Yeah. Oh, fun fact. I just read an article that said that there's literally no such thing. Good.

Like it's not real. Yeah. Then stop saying it to people. Exactly. At that point, my parents were turning 37 and already had three kids that were 14, 11, and 8. Bless your human parents. And they wanted to just begin again. To everyone else, this sounded absolutely crazy because they only had 10 more years and would reach the home stretch and be finished raising kids. But the idea still bounced back and forth in their minds for a little bit. I feel that. Yeah. You always think you're like, just a little baby. Well, and I think that, I mean, I don't know from experience, obviously, but I could see that happening when like all your kids. you're like, oh, like, we don't even have that much time left.

Like, should we just do it again? Yeah, and they're like, they get to, like, the age where you're like, I feel like you're getting so much older and move on. You're like, maybe a baby. Can't swoosh your little cheeks. Yeah, I feel that. I want Elena to have another baby so badly. I will not.

She says more. Nor. But I have a little more time before I'm ready, so. Two C sections is enough for me. But why do you just do one more? Because like three is a good number. Just make it three. Just like, you know, you're not even.

You're odd. That's true. That's very true. Yeah. We'll talk. We'll talk off there, I guess. You're like, you're not going to decide that I have a baby. Like, what the fuck?

Everyone listening is like, what? What the hell? I'm like, listen, it's fine. It's happening. Anyways, eventually they decided against having one more and a few months passed without mention of it. Until in August of 2015, my dad told my mom that he had a dream and his mom, my grandma, visited him in it.

He said that my grandma came to him in this dream and told him that they should have another baby. The baby would be healthy. it would be a healthy pregnancy, and finally that it would be a boy. When my dad woke up, he told my mom the dream, and they decided, why not just try? And if it doesn't happen, then it's not meant to be. Well, it did happen. My mom got pregnant the first time they tried after having an IUD in for almost 10 years. That is crazy.

Fertile Myrtle over here. And then my 8-year-old brother, wait what? 10 years after, oh, after my then 8-year-old brother was born, I thought that said. And then my 8-year-old brother was born and I was like, I don't understand. Miracle. I'm like, whoa, that's a healthy pregnancy. Skipping the whole pregnancy, there was no complications, even though my mom was technically in advanced maternal age.

My brother, yes, my grandma was right about the sex of the baby, was born in April 2016 and was completely healthy. Now it gets to the spooky part. When my brother was a baby, there would be times where he would just talk to the walls, laugh at empty spaces, or clap and move his arms to something that no one else saw. Obviously, it freaked us out a bit, but it was nothing we found concerning until he could start talking. The first incidents that made us question things was when he looked at a picture of my grandma. In this picture, my grandma and my great-grandma are leaning on a chain-link fence at a baseball game. When my brother saw that picture, he began pointing to my grandma and saying that,

it was him. Whoa. So casually, we asked where the picture was taken. At the time, he was only two. He could say a few words, but when we asked where this picture was taken, he told us baseball. Holy shit. Weird, but okay, and we left it alone. Once he got a little older and could talk more and more, this is where we could really tell that something was off, to the point where I started taking note of every single thing he said that would make us turn our heads. There was an instance when he was about three or four, and he told us randomly that he was born in the 1960s. What? We told him, no, you were born in 2016.

And he was insistent that he was definitely born in the 1960s. Well, my grandma was born in 1962. Oh, shit. Another odd instance was when he was around five, and we were sitting in the car talking about owning various pets. Since my brother has been born, we have had the same two dogs his whole life. But in the car, he told my mom and I, we used to have a cat, remember? remember? We replied, no, you've only ever had our dogs. We have never had a cat. He said, we used to

have a cat at our old house and we got rid of it. Don't you remember? And we replied, no, Lincoln, we have only had dogs at the house we live in now. You didn't live in our old house. We did move in 2012 to the house we currently lived in, but he never even stepped foot in our old house being that he was born in 2016. At this point, he was getting upset with us and said, no, we had a cat. We had a cat, and we got rid of it because it bit someone. Confused and tired of arguing, we just left it alone until we asked my dad whether or not they had a cat growing up. My dad is a bit skeptical.

So we would keep things that my brother had said secret until we felt it necessary to ask about it, like in this situation. Turns out my dad did have a cat growing up. It was his mom's cat. Holy shit. And they did have to get rid of it because it bit my aunt when she was little. Oh my god.

My dad also said that my grandma was so upset that they got rid of the cat. Wow. Also, with the mention of an old house, my brother would describe a house that he lived in that was similar to the house my dad had grown up in. I'm like getting chills. This is like something that I'm just like, it's so fucking crazy that this happens. Yeah.

And it's one of those things where you're like, I want this to happen to me, but also I don't want this to happen to me because I would be so fucking freaked out. Seriously. I'd be like, what is this child? Oddly enough, the bond that my dad and little brother have along the way. with my little brother and great-grandfather is insane. They both feel that his energy is different than the rest of us. And we say it's because they've known one another before. That's so beautiful. I love that. There have also been other instances where he would call people names only my grandma

called them or would know stores that we were specifically around when my grandma was alive. And when we ask where he heard that from, he doesn't give us an answer. He either gets embarrassed or becomes too upset at the question and will tell us, I can't answer that. I don't know what to say. or he'll become uncomfortable and just say, I don't know, and move back to whatever he was doing before. Finally, the connection he has with the spiritual world is random being that we're not a super religious family. He's told us, Mommy, I don't want to die. Then I have to start all over again as a baby. Whoa.

Or that he doesn't want to go back to God or heaven. Like I said, not a super religious family, so there's really no mentioning of God or heaven or Jesus in our house. Wow. Finally, last summer, I went to a medium. and she came in contact with my grandmother. She described her to a tea and was telling me things that my grandma wishes she could say to my dad. After the reading, my mom and I were talking about this reading

in our living room with my family. My little brother was on his tablet when I explained, she told me a woman was coming forward, who was a grandmother figure with black curly hair, and she was short. My brother interrupted me and said, Can you just stop talking about me, please? And immediately went back to his game.

Oh my God. That's hilarious. I love this grandma too. She's like, shut up. She's like, shut up. Freaked out. My mom and I stopped talking about it and never asked him any more questions about these things. Because like I said, he gets upset and uncomfortable with various questions about it.

It's probably confusing because it's like maybe it's like a part of him as your grandmother, but then a part of him has to be him. You know? Like, and it's confusing because he's so little. Yeah. Unfortunately, he is six now. So the memories he did hold from a past. life for being replaced by the current memories during his life now. I truly believe my grandma came to my dad in that dream because she knew she would be reincarnated into my brother and would finally

get the time spent with our family that she missed out on. Like I said, I apologize for the length again. Don't. Never. Also, let me know if you would like to hear yes, more about the other haunted or weird occurrences I have. And finally, if you got this far, thank you so much for reading. Thank you. Thank you for sending that in. That's... Tatum. Fucking nuts. like beautiful and I want you to know that Deb literally wrote the little note to us and said

I just love these stories. I love these stories too. Also you're so pretty. I can see your little. A little email picture. We have the cutest listeners. We do. You're just so adorable. Oh man. That was nuts. That was wild. That gave me the chills. Me too. Hoo-hoo. Ah. Woo-hoo. So let's see.

I'm going to go with summer camp, skinny dipping, and flesh pedestrians. Already. I'm do that. All right, this one says, hello, Ash and Elena, before I start, feel free to use my real name. Thank you. I'm Maddie, a writer and graphic designer from San Francisco. As of a few months ago, I'm a new morbid listener, too. Ever since coming across my first episode of listener tales, I knew one day I would find the words to tell this story. The time has come. Yes. I want you to know, and listeners too, that this story is 100% true, unexaggerated, and unexplainable. I've changed names

for the privacy of people involved. I hope you enjoy. And thank you for being the best part of my daily after work beach walk. Oh, that's lovely. Hell yeah. I'm so glad we get to do that with you. And I can see your little picture too and you're adorable. Oh, and you even gave a read time. You guys are just next level. 11 minutes and 30 seconds. I was eight years old when my parents dropped me off at sleepaway camp for the first time. It was a small Christian camp on a lake in New Hampshire. And if you're familiar with Christian subcultures, I am not. This was the not too spiritually traumatic type of Christian camp with campfires, capture the flag, water skiing, co-ed dances, and Jesus loves you type of Bible studies.

All right. Not the speaking in tongues, exorcisms, women should submit to their husbands, Satan is coming for you type of Christian camp. That's like the one that Andrew told us about. Yeah, that is. And thankfully, there was no talk of demons, possessions, or any of that spiritual warfare stuff. If you know, you really know. Ick your Rick.

There you go. My 45-pound, twiggy-legged eight-year-old self had such a heavy. in the New Hampshire woods that summer. I love that. That I went back every year throughout my childhood. I learned to water ski. I hiked hundreds of miles in the white mountains and made some incredible lifelong friends. And sure, we love to tell ghost stories around the campfire or jump out at each other in the woods at night. But camp was the safest place on earth to me. That is, until it wasn't. Oh, no. By high school, I was spending two full months at camp every summer. And this year was extra special. I was 16 years old and it was my last year as a camper.

After this, my best friends and I would age out, and we were determined to make it a summer to remember. There were 12 of us bunking in a cabin together that summer, with two college-age counselors there to lead Bible studies, make sure we weren't piercing each other's ears, which we were. This oldest cabin was known to have a lot of traditions passed down over many generations of campers, initiations, late-night dance parties, stolen ice cream from the camp kitchens, and singing around the campfire with our brother cabin. This sounds adorable. It sounds like bug juice.

I was thinking about bug juice. It doesn't come in a jar. Bug juice comes from who you are. But there was one tradition that was so secret, we swore up and down we'd never tell a soul. Not even our future husbands or children or children's children. And I'm sharing it with you now because I learned recently that this tradition has been lost to time, for better or for worse. I say for better or for worse because it was during this tradition that I experienced the most frightening night of my life. I am literally so fucking effing excited. So I'm going to let you in on this sacred ritual.

On a few special nights throughout the summer, we would sneak out of our cabin, trek through the woods and down to the lake, and skinny dip under the moonlight. I love. Now it may sound innocent enough, but if there's one thing to know about camp, sneaking out was strictly forbidden.

Some of the older administrators at camp patrolled the 500-acre property by night with flashlights, searching every corner for canoodling campers or heaven forbid some kind of intruder. There was even an old wife's tale about camp in the 70s when someone on night patrol found a man sneaking into the onto the property by boat. When police arrested him that night, they found duct tape, rope and a 10-inch knife in his backpack.

Moral of the story, if you were caught out after hours, you'd be shipped home by morning. On this fateful night, things did not go quite as planned. It was 1 a.m. when I woke up to my baby G watch, oh my God, baby G. My baby G watch alarm beeping next to my ear. I turned it off before it beeped again. Since I was a light sleeper, I'd, I'd I'd been chosen by my cabin mates to be the designated alarm. From the top bunk, I peered down to see our counselors, still sound asleep in the blue light of the moon. Few, this was all part of the plan. Oh, I can see this.

Just the fact that you snuck out with counselors in the room with you is like, whoa. That's intense. A spole. Bad ass. I slipped out of bed wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and wool socks. I wasn't normally a sleeping socks kind of person, aka I'm not a sociopath. Thank you. I was literally just about to say that, so I appreciate you saying it for me.

But this was the uniform for skinny dipping nights. I woke my bottom bunkmate, trying my best not to rattle the metal bed or trip over the hiking boots soon or cross the floor. If our counselors woke up, we'd be in serious trouble. My God, so intense. I know. They're like right there. Haley. I whispered, pressing her shoulder.

She opened her eyes. I pointed towards the door and mouthed, let's go. And so Haley slipped out of her sleeping bag and woke the girls in the bunk beside us. And quietly as we could, we crept out of the. cabin door into the chilly New Hampshire night. Haley and I walked hand in hand in nothing, and I mean nothing, but thick wool socks and oversized t-shirts, down the gravel pads, weaving through the woods towards the lakefront. It was a half-mile walk and the air was frigid, and the woods were dense around us. We walked in silence, just squeezing each other's hands

in anticipation, knowing that our 10 cabin mates would be coming in twos just minutes behind us. It was best not to travel in large group, so we would stay undetected. You guys are smart. I know. You had this down to a tee. Yeah. We were on high alert. The quietest sound could tip off night patrol that campers were out of bed. As we limped along the path, without headlamps to light our way, we tripped over roots and sharp rocks that poked up through our socks. I felt safe with Haley. She was one of my closest friends, bold, pragmatic, and unafraid. She could find a silver lining in anything, and to this day is one of the smartest humans I know. She works as a researcher and epidemiologist at Harvard now.

Okay, Haley. I say this because what happened next cannot be explained away by science, not even by Haley. We were nearing the lake, weaving our way down a widening tree-lined path when we heard a branch crack in the woods. It was as if someone just a few yards to our right hidden in the pine trees had taken a step. We froze. We stopped walking and held our breath, squeezing each other's hands. A dim lamp post in the distance cast a warm light on the path. I turned to look at Haley and could see fear in her eyes.

She broke the silence and whispered to me, it's probably just a deer. I nodded. We started walking again. But this time, someone or something was walking alongside us in the woods, just off the path. With each step we took, we heard leaves and twigs crunched to our right. When we stopped, the footsteps stopped too. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. I still remember the feeling in my body like my blood had turned to ice in my veins.

Even in the cold night air, I held Haley's hands so tall. tightly now we were slick with sweat. We walked faster, eager to reach the waterfront where the woods opened up to a sandy beach and the moonlight reflected off the water. It seemed safer there. We couldn't turn back now. The walk back to the cabin was

pitch dark and wooded. It was safer to continue on. We walked faster and the steps began again in the woods, but they were getting closer. Twigs snapped and leaves crunched and suddenly the footsteps quickened until they were crashing through the woods towards us. No, thank you. We

stopped again and Haley let out a tiny whimper. And this time the steps did not stop with ours. The crashing continued, frantic and nearly on top of us. And then it emerged. Shining in the lamplight, a snarling, hairling, hairless creature barreled across the path just in front of us. It hissed and choked as if its throat was constricted. Its motion was thrashing, frantic and frenzied. It barreled across the path, hunched over on all fours, like some kind of contorted, long-limbed, naked human. I remember its emaciated form and arched spine and the sound of its frenzied steps lurching over the rocky path like hooves.

And then without even glancing our way, it disappeared down the hill into the woods towards the lake. What? What the fuck did you see? What? Bitch, were you at Hogwarts? What? What? I, I, did you shit all over the floor and get shifty?

What? Did you shit yourself? I was in shock. Like, I'm in shock. Haley and I stood in silence for what felt like an eternity, afraid to move or breathe. Oh my God, I whispered trembling. What was that? Haley whispered back, terrified.

And before we could say another. words. Another words. Another words. Two friends came tiptoeing down the path, approaching us hand in hand, cheery and unaware of the horror we had just witnessed. My oh my. And looking back, I don't know why we didn't say something to them in that moment, but we grouped up in silence and continued our pilgrimage down to the lake. Are you shitting me? They were like, we really wanted a skinny dip. For real. Haley and I squeezed each other's hands so tightly that our fingers turned white and sweat pooled between our palms. I racked my brain for some reasonable explanation.

A mangy, rabid coyote? Nah. It couldn't be. This was larger than any coyote or wolf I'd ever seen. A fisher cat? A sick deer? A black bear? None of it made sense.

Why didn't it eat you? It's a knot deer. It's not even not a not deer. Why didn't it eat you? We skinny dipped in the lake that night and crept quietly back into our beds undetected. You just told me that that motherfucking creature headed toward the lake. And you still went into the...

What if that was the creature of the motherfucking black lagoon? What if it was in the lake with you? What if it grabbed your foot? It was right under your feet. I know it. It was looking at your butt. It was right under your feet. It was looking at your butt.

It was just looking up your feet. And it was just going, uh, and it was like about to touch. And then it didn't. And you were just in there in the lake. You were in there swimwear going to the bullshit. Girlfriend. Though Haley and I convinced the whole group to walk back together this time without sharing what we'd seen.

We didn't want to scare them. And more than that, we didn't even have the words yet. After creeping back into the cabin that night, I got into Haley's lower bunk and we stayed up whispering to each other, trying to process this horrific thing we'd seen. I was so relieved that she'd seen it just the way I had, the snarling sounds, the hairless limbs, protruding spine, and hoofed feet.

That was the devil. The devil. That was clagin. Sighton. Clagin. It seemed terrified like it was running from something, she said. Oh, no. What the fuck is that thing running from?

Yeah, for real. Now you got to leave the continent. Like what the fuck was I'm getting out of here? What? New Hampshire, you say? We're not far from that. What was that thing running from? And that's why Mama doesn't camp in New Hampshire.

Do you hear that, brother-in-laws? or any of the family that listens, I am never camping. No, just this right here. Goodbye. But she said, I thought so too. I'm not a woo-woo person. To be honest, to this day, I'm a bit of a cynic. Even rolling my eyes at ghost stories, astrology, paranormal sightings, or healing crystals.

But I will never forget the feeling of evil, unspeakable darkness that surrounded that creature. That creature didn't make you a believer in astrology. Or a beaver? Or a berever. Any kind of eberness. many years after that, we never spoke of it again. I would speak of it every day. Imagine if me and you saw that, we would never shut the fuck up again. We would never shut the fuck up about it. A ghost blew in my ear and I have told everyone that I have

ever known. Retweet every day for the rest of my life. Re-fucking tweet. So if this happened, like I would, I'd be telling everybody. I would write a fucking news column with the same headline every day about it. I would never stop. I saw a creature in the woods, bitch. That would be my headline. Oh, but, oh, there's more, though. But something happened in my early 20s just a few years ago that brought it all flooding back. We weren't the only ones to see that creature that

night. Hwa? Oh, I'm in. I'm in. I'm in, okay. Read, read, read. I'm 28 years old now, and Haley is married. I was a bridesmaid in her wedding, adorable. And at the bachelorette party, all her dearest friends gave toast. I decided it was finally time to relive that terrifying night,

this time under a more lighthearted lens. If you're ever going to live through something inexplicable and traumatic, you want Haley by your side. I told the story for the first time with an audience of Haley's closest friends, sparing no details about this evil thing we'd seen in so many years ago at summer camp. Afterwards, another bridesmaid approached me. A mutual friend would grown up with at camp. She never heard the story before, and she was uncharacteristically serious. I have to tell you something. I don't want to share this with the whole group. It might have thrown off the mood. But you have to tell my sister, talk to my sister Erica.

She was working at camp that summer, and she saw something that looked just like that. Bitch. And so she retold Erica's story, and I had chills running over my whole body. Do you see my arms? Even writing this now, I feel a bit trembly inside. Even listening to it, me as well. Erica was a counselor at camp that very same summer, just a few years older than us. She snuck out of her cabin late one night to meet her camp crush down by the lake.

Oh, my God. They were going to canoodle. They were going to canoe. Dudele. Get it. But I think this hairless creature might have ruined the mood. Yeah, that'll do it. They hid in the shadows on the porch of the scuba shack.

The scuba shack is a little building just perched on the shore of the lake. Housing scuba tanks and gear for campers who want to get certified to dive. That makes sense. Very cool. Erica and her summer crush. Another counselor from the boys camp sat kissing and whispering when they heard something crashing through the woods. Oh, my God. What a fucking mood killer.

For real. Killington. Yeah, yeah. The very same direction, Haley and I'd watch. this creature go as it ripped past us and down toward the lake. They looked on in horror as a hairless thing heaving and snarling on all fours crept towards the water's edge, hunched over in the moonlight, and drank water from the lake. It drank lake water? It didn't look at them or seemed to know that they were there at all. It paused for just a moment at the water's edge, then took off frantically

back into the forest. Why is this becoming like comical, though? But I just like picture this thing like, He's like, I'm thirsty. I kind of love it. He's just hydrating, you know? Like, I'm kind of growing feelings for him. I feel like he's, and I'm just going to, like, blow my own spot up here. I feel like he's me whenever I do a Peloton workout. I just like snarl my way downstairs, glug some liquid IV really quick, and then like run back upstairs into the shower.

All right. So it was you that summer. Girl, it was me. You scared the campers. It was me. It's just me when I work out. I wish you could see my face that I'm looking at her with right now because I'm like, I don't know. Just ask John, he'll tell you.

I just snar on my way downstairs, all sweaty and gross. I grab a liquid IV. I just chug it. I just snar on my way up. You're so weird. Like what? I am so scared. He was just working out.

Okay. So the next morning, the camp pastor called an emergency meeting. I bet he fucking did. And this is where things take an even more terrifying turn. Pastor Greg said, it's the devil. It's the devil. He's clag. He's here.

I know. He has come to us. He has come in to this Christian camp. I don't think he's like in New Hampshire. We're like giving him a very strong. He's here. He's at the camp. He's here, guys.

He's here. That's what he said. He's here. This is where things. take an even more terrifying turn. I know this man well. We'll call him Pastor Greg. He's a kind middle-aged theologian. He spent his summers, his summers. Him spent his summers offering mentors. I was like still looking at the word theologian. Yeah, yeah, sure, sure, sure. He spent his summers offering mentorship to the camp staff. Oh, that's very nice of him. During the year when camp wasn't in session,

he pastored a Presbyterian church on the East Coast. For those who don't know, Presby, I don't know, actually, so thank you for telling you. I don't either. I never know the differences. No, me either. Presbyterian Christians are stereotypically stiff, sometimes called God's frozen chosen. Wow, all right. Good to know. They don't worship with their hands up or cry in church, and they definitely don't talk about demons or dark spiritual things.

Oh, so he didn't do that. Oh. Think Stade Hymns, wooden church benches and community potluck dinners. Oh, I'm coming for dinner. Yeah, that's what I would make sense. Do you know what a state hym is? I do not. But I assume just hymns.

Okay. But on this morning, Pastor Gregg gathered the camp staff together for an unprecedented morning meeting, looking unusually solemn. I didn't sleep last night, and I'm not sure how to say this. He looked around at the group of 40 apprehensive counselors. I woke up with a weight on my chest, like something, something evil was here on campgrounds. I don't know.

I've never felt something like that before, so I just stayed up and prayed. And I know camp is a safe place and God is present here, but I felt I needed to share this. There is a dark presence, and I encourage you all to be impressed. prayer and stay vigilant. Can you fucking imagine? And is it terrible? Is it terrible that if I was in this meeting, I would be so fucking excited? I would be like, say it again with the accent.

Yes. Like, give it your all. What's midnight mass? Once more with feeling, Pastor Gregg. I'd be like, are we in the next season of midnight mass? I'd be like, are we going on a hunt tonight? I'd be like, Mike Flanagan, are you here? I'd be like, are we going to light our torches?

What's going to happen? Like, I don't want to kill it or anything. I just want to see it. Yeah, I got to know. I would be so freaking eff and excited. Hearing something evil is here on camp, I'd be like, I'd be like, let's fucking find it, Pastor Greg. We're in a horror movie. I would be so excited.

So Erica and her camp crush didn't dare tell Pastor Greg about what they'd seen that night. Because they were practicing abstinence. Because they were naked. And now, years later, her younger sister was sharing her account for the very first time with me. I felt the blood drained from my face. I didn't know whether to feel better. that I wasn't alone, or like my understanding of the world as a safe place, undisturbed by some dark unseen power, was shattering before my eyes.

Even Pastor Greg, with his cheerful and composed demeanor, had felt disturbed by a dark presence at camp. I'm obsessed. As I'm writing this, it's been over 10 years since that horrific encounter, and it's still the most scary, most unexplained thing I've ever seen. It has me questioning everything I believe about the world, God, and the thin veil between our world and some other world of other. More and more in my adulthood, I can't believe I'm even using that word.

I'm starting to believe there are rare spiritual places in the world where that veil is especially thin. Totally. Totally. And sometimes frightening and dark things can crawl through it. And maybe more often, beautiful divine things peek through it too. Camp is one of those thin places, I guess. And I know I came out on top with enough amazing friends and wild memories in those New Hampshire

woods to last a lifetime. So, as I like to say, keep it weird, but not so weird that you find yourself. half naked in the New Hampshire woods, confronted by a horrifying, hairless flesh pedestrian that makes you question everything you know about the world. Yeah, don't keep it that weird, or maybe fucking do. Maddie, that was crazy. Also, I have a little bit of a theory. Because at camp, there's plenty of kids, like, sitting around telling, like, ghost stories and shit. And then you get super freaked out, like, everybody's freaked out at camp a little bit. And things like that, like to feed off of it. So it's, like, rife for this kind of activity. The energy.

It's right. That's my theory. That's your theory. That's your thing. I like it. That's it. Damn. That was one of my favorite listener tales that we've ever been sent in. That took me. I'm not even joking. I visualized that entire thing. Me too. I felt like I was watching a movie and I think you maybe should write a book about it. I think you should maybe TM that. TM, TM, TM, TM, TM for Maddie. Yes. TMing for Maddie. Reserving for Maddie. Reserving rights. Yes. Do you ever see people sign off emails like that? I never know what? We're doing it for you, Maddie. I'm just going to start doing it. I'm going to be like, happy Monday. Here's this. Reserving. Right. People are going to be like, what? We're going to get 800 emails explaining to me what that means. Thank you. You're welcome. You're welcome.

Sorry, Deb-Dub. My next one, I don't even, wow. How do you even follow that? I guess I'm going to follow it with the time I needed a motherfucking cloud. I think you are going to follow it with that. I think I'm going to. Oh, when I see dogs, so let's fucking go. Pepesh.

Preparish. It's really fucking funny. You're really funny lately. They have lately. No, just like that. You're funny always, but you're really funny lately. I appreciate that. You're welcome. All right. Hello, Queens of all the creepies. I have attached to a word document because I'm a piss poor adult and a little trunk. See, I was meant to read this. So I can't figure out PDFs on my new computer. Don't tell my husband. He would never let me live it down. I think he might know now. You guys are the best and I'm glad that I'm not the only weirdo. I have changed my name within the word document, but I hope you enjoy this little story. Never mind the grammar. Spell check and autocorrect can only do so much. It's been years since I've actually typed up anything that didn't include emojis or some sort of gif. Amazing.

I have attached my pictures of my dogs because they're more popular than my husband and I. They're beautiful. Have a great day and continue being the baddest bitches I, quote unquote, no. I love you. I love your dog wrapped up in his little boyquee. I think this is you and your husband and that's fucking horrible. Personality pick. And this other dog is so cute, too.

Doggies. All right. How I eated this motherfucking clown. plus some random shit you might find interesting. I'm already in. Elena and Ash. Let me just say that you guys are the tits. You're the tits.

You are. My bar nickname is Katie, since it's close enough to my name that I will respond, but not my name, so they can't find me. So call me that. I love that. I'm a newer listener,

and I've been listening to it nonstop. It helps me with my mind-numbing bored of my experience when it's slow at work. I love listening to you guys. If you read this on the pod, I will lose my fucking mind. Go get it. But honestly, it might already be lost.

But if you giggle to yourselves, that would just make me happy too. I'm going to giggle to myself and to you, Danny. You guys remind me of my best friend and I talking shit about true crime and wondering how the fuck we didn't end up dead. Let's just say we were teenage dirtbags. Oh, we just would be proud. The first time I was like, what?

We had many alcohol and drug-filled adventures. We've woken up in a field a couple miles away from home after three, four locals. Are you alive if you know, you know. We broke into an abandoned preschool and proceeded to. to throw a rager with a couple of gang members. What? I stole a guy's phone to send text to everyone on his football team that he would only fuck his human-sum.

His humans. That he would only fuck his human-sized fuzzy dragon, which he actually had. He keeps in his closet because it was the only way he could feel anything. Wow. My best friend distracted him. That fucker crossed the wrong bitches. I'm obsessed and I love that that was your revenge. That's the best.

Don't get me wrong. I don't kink shame. But he was the very definition of a Chad and terrorized the alphabet mafia at my school, so he deserved it. Oh, yeah, he did deserve it. What's the alphabet mafia? LGBTQ. Oh, wow, I should know that as a member. I feel like as a member of it.

Anyways, as you have obviously realized that I am the queen of tangents, my ADHD will not allow me to keep on topic for more than five minutes. I'm writing in a stream of thought with shit poor grammar in probably the wrong format because my bestie and I are about five to ten beers deep, and she's been begging me to send some of the stories I have. I'm obsessed with this. I love your friendship. We love a drunk listener tale. The drunk listener tells forever. Just like, do it at home.

You would never know we graduated with honors based on the format of the stories. I'll get to the point. I promise. This story will be somewhat short in a sweet little adventure of when I made some dumb asshole rethink his life choices. Hell yeah. You remember that horrific time in 2016-ish time is relative, when dumb motherfuckers decided it would be a fucking great idea to chase people around in goddamn clown costumes with knives. I do, and I did not enjoy that time. No, that was a weird fucking moment. Side story, I was fucking terrified of that time,

and so were you actually. We were both terrified. And we were talking to John about it one night. And that motherfucker thought that it would be funny when he was walking Bubba. We didn't even think of it. We were like freaked out. I think we were watching something scary too. And this motherfucker just slammed his whole body on the window behind us. And I probably shit on your couch that night. That was the scare. I thought my heart literally stopped. I was like cardiac arrest. I thought I was going to murder your husband.

I was not pleased. But I didn't. But he thought it was great. He was cackling. Never heard him laugh that heart in my life. No, he loves mess. He does. Anyways, you have obviously realized that I'm the queen.

Oh, I just read that entire thing again. Bye. Yeah, you know. All my adult life, I have been in the food and beb industry. I was a server, a hostess, a bartender. You get it. I see a lot of shit that you can never unsee. And I hear some shit.

You can never. done here. I mind my business, make some money, and go the fuck home. Yeah. At this time of my crazy life, I lived three blocks away from the bar that I worked at. It was in a busy downtown area in the heart of a strip of bars with enormous bouncers. You would have to be stupid to fuck with these guys and gals. I made friends with all the ones on my route home just to make sure that nobody would approach me. Normally, my why the fuck are you talking face, repels men, but drunk men are morons. I love that you have a why the fuck are you talking face. Everybody should have one.

To get home, I have to cross two streets down and one street to the right. So like an L. I'm geographically challenged. So describing directions is never something I'm going to excel out. I feel that. Me either. I get lost in my own town that I've lived in pretty much my whole life. I just need landmarks.

I'll just be like turn left at that grocery store. It's never like a street. Yeah, no. Never a street. I say hi to the bouncers as I walk home. And they watch to make sure no one fucks with me as I take my happy ass home. That's awesome. I usually run across the street instead of using.

using crosswalks because those are for the week. I also feel that. I then cut through a short alley since I'm kind of dumb. I wanted to do a ton of true crime. But when it comes to convenience, I'll roll the dice, I guess. The night in question was busy at the bar and in the general area. I didn't get off work until around 2 a.m. And I was so fucking tired.

All I could think about was the mac and cheese I was going to shove in my face hole. And the squishy bed I was going to drown myself in. I walked out of one of the back doors to see the coffee. had cordoned off parts of the main drag, and the bouncers were helping with crowd control. Well, fuck me, I guess. I had to go around the cord and off sections, which took me through two alleys that I did not normally go through. I could have gone around the block onto a well-lit street, but nothing was going to get in the way of the gooey deliciousness waiting for me. I understand this.

Mac and cheese. Yeah, it'll make you do crazy things. Yeah, good thoughts be damned. I knew I should keep my head on a swivel and keep an eye out for drunk creeps. But the vast empty space I call my brain was engrossed in the food gasm I was preparing for. Well, I was halfway through the first alley when I heard someone entering the alley. It echoes, which is why I knew someone was there. I looked over my shoulder and to my horror, it was one of those fucking clowns.

My feet faltered a little and he stopped, did the creepy head tilt and took off running toward me. Oh, the creepy head tilt too, you know exactly the one. Mm-hmm. Oh my God. I just took a long breath, looked up at the sky and said, for fuck's sake. P.S., do you know if it is like for the sake of fucks or no fucks to offer up for the sake of myself? I think about this too often. For fuck's sake.

I like that. Yeah. I think it's for the sake of fuck. Yeah, that's what I always looked at it as. But I'm glad that you just took me on a different journey of what it could be. You just never know. You never know. I think it's for whatever you're hoping.

Katie, it's whatever you feel. Katie, I agree. Because I love you. I do too. I grabbed a tight hold of my backpack and took off faster than I had the energy for. I was never a long-distance runner, which is why I chose to be a goalie in soccer because fuck running. I agree.

I always said I will only run if someone is chasing me and if that wasn't putting the bullshit in the universe, I don't know what is. I ran out of the alley across the street without looking for traffic because I'd rather be taken out by a fucking car than give this asshole the satisfaction of stabbing me. I am also with you on that. Retweet. You could recover from that. Yeah, exactly.

He was still hot on my tent. but I'd gained enough distance to make it to the next alley and tuck around the corner. I was tired, but best believe I had a fucking plan for this guy. I quietly took my backpack off as I heard him sprinting down the off alley. And by the grace of God or whatever deity I was praying to at the time, my timing was fucking perfect. I swung my backpack full of books and whatever the fuck else I randomly threw into my backpack that day into this fucker's face. I swear, I saw his life flash in his eyes as he was yeated into his. the fucking air and landed flat on his back. Yes. I stood there for a minute watching him rolling

around in pain. I wanted him to realize who the fuck he had fucked with. Hell yeah. The knife, which turned out to be fake, was laying at my feet. Oh my God. My inner bitch, think exasperated mom with a toddler that learned his lesson after being told five fucking times not to do something, took over my body. I leaned over, fake knife and hand, knelt and whispered into his ear. Think twice next time, motherfucker. Yes. I tossed the knife and I walked, skipped my way back home. I enjoyed my mac and cheese.

I took a long shower and I proceeded to watch a docuseries about a compulsive stalker because that's the kind of twisted bitch I am. You're my kind of twisted bitch. Hell yeah, you are. I'd like to think that he questioned all of his life choices that brought him to the moment where he chose to wear a clown costume, buy a fake knife, chase a random woman minding her own damn business, only to end up with a 15-pound backpack to the motherfucking face. but one can only hope.

Well, like, can you imagine being that dumb? Like, you have at least three parts of the costume to get into to change your mind. Yeah. Like, that's full-blown insanity. And it's like to chase a woman at 2 a.m. down an alleyway, you deserve whatever the fuck comes to you from that. And I feel like you are some kind of psychopath that, like, is going to escalate at some point. Because you have to know something is coming to you. Yeah.

Because she's going to get help from someone who's going to beat the shit out of you. Yeah. And you're going to deserve it. You're weird. and not the good kind. I still have that backpack and I make sure that I still always have some heavy shit in there. Just in case some faulty fucking sperm that should have been swallowed comes around the corner to fuck with me. I love you so much.

Thank you for listening to this story. I hope it gives you some giggles. It did. If I ever feel like I would die in a zombie apocalypse because, yes, my husband and I actually have conversations about who we think in our friend group would survive. We have also had these conversations. Oh, yeah. I remember the night that I gave that dick bag the reckoning he needed. Hell yeah, you did, Katie.

P.S., I sent you guys a message on IG, but I'm sure y'all get too many that you'll probably never see it. I was re-listening to some listener when one caught me off guard. I think it was listener tales 15 when a guy named John was talking about a dark, shadowy figure that was in the corner of his bedroom and slid down the wall and stood at the end of his bed. Well, I have the unfortunate pleasure of having a night terror every few days of that exact same thing. I've had it ever since I was 13, so for the last 20 years. But there are a few fucking fun twists. The dream always starts with me, quote unquote, waking up and not being able to move. Sleep paralysis.

The surroundings look almost exactly the same as when I fell asleep, no matter where I'm sleeping. Friends, family's houses, doesn't matter. That's definitely sleep paralysis. I see a dark shadow in the top right-hand corner of the rim. It slides down the wall and crawls to the foot of my bed. Something about crawling is so far. It's just not all right. This shadowy bastard yanks me out of bed with whatever blankets I'm using and suffocates me.

The only way I can get myself out of the dream is to find the one thing in the room that's different than when I fell asleep. Sometimes the blanket is a different color. The door was open when it was shut. Bathroom light was on when it wasn't. You get the gist. It's a motherfucking wears Waldo with this inconsiderate demon. Anyways, have a great day and give everyone hugs. Only if they want it because consent is a thing.

Hell yeah. You are love in this world. Yes. Here are my dogs because everybody needs to see how adorable they are. Leo and Luna, my son and my moon. I love that. Oh my God. You are fan fucking tastic.

Katie, I'm obsessed with you. I'm obsessed with you and your husband. I'm obsessed with your dogs. And you're a badass bitch. You're so funny and I want to be your friend. I absolutely love you. Wow. We're friends now.

That was great. So you're stuck with us. All right. Holy shit. You want to do one more or what do you think? Wow. All right. Let me see.

I'll do one more. We started with you. We got to end on you. It just feels right. We got to end on me. Let's see. All right. Let's go with,

they call me Yeadie McEytersen from Yeatsville. Hey, Deb, Deb, Deb. That's what it's called. I think we should. Let's see. It says, Hello, beautiful, haunted honeies of my heart. I like that.

I've attached to 14. I'm attached to 14. point double space put a phone of my story about the time that a sex worker saved my life. I apologize in advance for the grammar and junk. I try my best and I am silly. I love that. I've said this before, but I had the chance to look at it and was like, they deserve better, damn it. I love you both and we'll do all the different shits that everyone always speaks to when they hear their tales. Also, all the different shits. I like that. Also, hi, other morbid fans. I love you guys too because it's obvious that you are all hell of awesome because the women that brought us together are.

awesome. Oh, I love you. All right. The first line starts out saying, yo, yo, yugitty yo. Things I never thought I'd hear Elena say. First of all, let me just say this is in list form because I be on one sometimes. Number one, Bailey is amazing and I feel your family's love for her when you talk about her. And I know that every time you do, she does a little happy dance among the stars. Oh, her birthday was yesterday.

It was. It was her 13th birthday yesterday. Number two, my lovely amazing. couple ash bogey and druskies y'all go together better than rice and gravy balls and hoops toilet paper and asses old ass ghosts and shit moving side joke you know why stuff always drops when a motherfuckers what's a what's say when a motherfucker is haunted i was like you got it because they asses is old as fuck so they can't grab shit they're not trying to be creepy they're just clumsy i get it back to our regular schedule craziness i'm so excited that you guys found each other made it through the storms people so caught up in love being this perfect thing that doesn't have rough spots, but it's the fact that

you made it through them is what matters. What makes love last is growing with with each other through each chapter and learning how to love each new page. That was so fucking beautiful. Thank you so much. Number three, speaking of pages, Mrs. New York Times bestselling author lady, hey. Hey! I got your book and scared the shit out of myself listening to it. The Butcher and the Renn, more like The Butcher in the Run, my big black butt straight to the bathroom so I don't scare peepes, scare pee pee on myself. I love you. I'm so excited for you and all that you do.

Thank you. Number four, y'all both have just the best people in your lives. What up Deb Deb, Deb, John Drew, the minis, aka kiddos and the cats. Oh, I love you. I love you so much. They say hi back. Now the regular gushy feel feels. You beyond fab, sexy, smart, silly, spooky, cry me mommy, T.T.

Sister, bitches are the shit. I mean elephant after a coffee anima shit. First shit after taking a diuretic shit. I mean baby that just had straight up apple juice blew out the back of their pamper shit. I got into the muffin basket, no chocolate muffs, and has the sugar shit shit. Literally my favorite human.

What a way to end. It blew out the back of their pamperty. My best tea from work. Let's call her lady jammy McJamperty face. All right. Let's do that. Got me into you guys. Shout out to my chocolate, sweetie McSweeneyton.

The first lady, not only are you amazing with the most beautiful and classic style, but you got the best taste of motherfucking with no condom podcast. Oh yeah, no safety bitch. I'll tell, but I am silly billy gumdrop. Oh, shit. All right. I am a culinary arts teacher in my early 30s. You can call me bear, because I will fuck a dumpster fire of a fuck face up.

for the people tatted on my heart, i.e. students, friends, family, my German shepherd Groot, the teachers in my department. You get it. Mama got a lot of cubs. I love you. I love you. You are officially one of those people that are tatted on my heart. I will go to town for you. Oh, well, hopefully at some point, I will get to add a partner bear and cubs of my own. You will. Oh, of course you will. I listen to you classy lassies on my way to work at work during meetings and taking my Groot out to play fetch. Anywho's there, I would tell you that I'm sorry for the length of this, but I'm not, but I'm not, you dope dolls deserve some crazy cocoa creep, creepy crap of a story.

Oh my God, I'm so obsessed with you. Now, as a woman would say to her husband on their wedding night, I hope you are ready, because this is about to be epic. Remind me to say that. This is about the time, this is the story of the time I was saved by a sex worker. This takes place when I was in college at cooking school in the cooking place state. I have always loved cooking, so this was a dream. P.S., I would adore the chance to cook for you and your family.

Seriously, just email me back, and I will totally be your personal chef for the week. Oh, my God. Holy shit. That's a dream. It was the second month of school, and we were trying to get used to the schedule. In cooking school, you have six-hour classes. I'm like seriously crying. I am, too.

In cooking school, you have six-hour classes in the morning. Damn. It sounds long, but it was lecture, cook, clean, wrap-up, so it went fast. At this, at this, there was no classic college movie dorms. So what they did was rent out entire buildings from the apartment complexes around the school. And we would stay there four to a two-bedroom apartment. This place had a gym and because I was an anxiety and depression-filled bad bitch. And in high school, I played basketball, volleyball, did track and field.

And I took dance class during the day. I wanted to work out because I was eating like a chef hobo because broke. To be honest, as a public school teacher still broke just with fucking bills. Sorry off topic anyway. I was in the gym. And here comes in, this six-foot-seven guy with long hair and braids looking like ludicrous in the early 2000s, except stretch him out and give him pale or skin. He was cute in a weird way.

I could see it. He had a five-foot-one henchman that followed him around as a stripper follows the men throwing a hundred-dollar bills making it rain on a rain up. I will call these balloons filled with rotten dicks and boiled balls by their height. Six-foot-seven started a conversation with me about the fact that. they're there from New York and we're here visiting because their grandmother had passed and he really missed her. So of course my bleeding heart was like, oh my goodness, let me heal your pain with my magic box. I had my slutty time in college, but no STDs or kids, so I win. Yeah. A girl after my own heart. He and five foot one and I, he and five foot one

planned on coming over the next day to chill with me and my roommate. The other two were from cooking place states, so they would go home on the weekends. Saturday evening comes and we were chilling in the apartment and my friend in five foot one hit it off. So me and six foot seven went into room so I could share my condolences with him. And after a bit, we came back out and they chilled for a couple more hours. I'm literally obsessed with you. They left and told us that they would come back the next night, which was fine because it was a three-day weekend, so we had time to kill.

It is like, it's not like we were in college and had a seven-page paper on the history of food-borne illnesses in America that was due on Tuesday that neither of us had started or anything. No, no, never. No, we slept all day because college and procrastination. When the guys came over that night, we were drinking that good old Arbor mist. We was high-class bitches on that mist. I don't think I've ever even heard about it. Anyway, five foot one said he had to use the bathroom.

The common area was one was messed up, so my roommate let him use the one in her bedroom. He was in there for a while, so when my roommate noticed she went to the room and saw him going through her in her roommate shit. She was like, what the fuck are you doing? He gave us some excuse about admiring the stuff they had on their wall. She said, yeah, the picks of Aaliyah and boys to men are fucking art. And I came up behind her screaming at him about how he was being a bag of sour cream in Cunning Cunts. And that he was, and that is when 6'7 started laughing and saying some dumb shit about how they were going to take some shit and leave. I was like, no the fuck you aren't.

I went in the room, took the shit out of 5'1's hands and told them to get the hot hell. out of my apartment. I was visibly shaking because I had never experienced that before. That amount of the fuck and why you so stupid? So her and I were discussing this trying to calm down

when all of a sudden we hear voices at the door. It was 6'7 and 5'1 back, but we heard two female voices too. They started banging on the door and it didn't sound like they used a hand. Ooh. I crawled to the peephole and saw a gun beating on the door.

Oh my God. My heart fell out of my asses. ass rolled into my room and hit under my bed. My roommate could tell that I was, my roommate could tell what I saw wasn't good. She G.I. Jane crawled behind the couch to call 911 and I sat there unable to move, just hearing the four of them saying that they were going to fucking kill us and telling us that we fucked up when we kicked them out.

Oh my God. What the fuck? Side note. I get that they came back. I get that they came back because idiots are going to idiot. But I didn't understand why they went and got the swamp buckets too. Yeah, right? Anyway, back to the shit.

So then I heard a scratching sound on the door. So I slowly got up to look out the pee-pole, and one of the fucking swamp monsters had a fucking knife. It was scratching the pee-pole so we couldn't see out. What the fuck? At this point, not only was my heart hiding under my bed, but it had to make way for my lungs and other organs. I crawled to my roommates.

She was still on the phone with fucking Barney Fife, the Andy Griffith Show. Please, God, get that. If not, combined Dale Gribble and Bill. daughter of from oh i don't know king of the hill but i feel you i do know barney five i do too because they were not trying to hear what the fuck our scared ashes were saying the banging and taunting went on for another 20 shit in minutes then it went quiet i slithered over to the window like the snake on brittney's neck at the vmase yes baby the view from that window was to the street and there we saw the four

fucking fuck twots great all-girl hardcore metal band name wow the fuck twats Walking away 30 minutes later The cops Started knocking on our door And when we opened it There stood two male cops Who asked us to tell them what happened

Hold on to your tits Velvety smooth bad bitches Because you are gonna get mad They told us to tell them what happened As we talked They asked the following questions Why did you invite them up If it was only the two of you

Because we thought we were friends Did you ask for their full names? No Do you know them from New York I don't know Why aren't your friends? parents home. Because this is college. You girls should know better than to have men in your apartment. I'm sorry, what? Did you ask them to leave nicely? It's my fucking property. I don't fucking have to ask in any

kind of manner. Fuck you. After this, they continued to make us feel like shit when they told us that they didn't see anyone when they pulled up so they most likely left and that we should have called sooner. Are you kidding me? At that point, I was crying so hard. I can't remember what those men's mansplaining butt saw said. They left in my roommate and I slept on the floor. that night. Well, it wasn't sleep. It was more like mini naps where we would sleep, wake up, and look outside and repeat. Oh, so that makes me so sad. Me too. Then when morning came, our other two roommates came home. When they saw us, they said, what the fuck happened? In crying, we told them everything they held, and they held us and cried with us. Those are good

friends. I stayed by the window all day because all I could see was the gun hitting the door and the knife scratching the people. I sat there all day not wanting to eat or do anything else. My roommates, My roommates were worried, but I felt horrible because this was all my fault. If I didn't Hulk out, then they would not be threatening us. No, that's not true. You were like protecting your friend too. That night, I slept like I did again in weird shifts because I wanted to be ready if they came back. That next morning, my roomies were getting ready to go to class and we had to leave at 5 a.m.

to be in our seats by 6 a.m. I told them that I could not go outside because I was so afraid that they were waiting for me with that gun. So I told them to tell chef that I was sick. They tried to get me to go, but I refused to move, so they left, and I continued to sit by the window, still in the clothes I had on the night shit happened. Around 8.30 a.m. I hear a knock on the door. My heart skipped a beat. I tried to look out the people, and through the scratches, I saw a blurry chef uniform on what seemed to be a thick man. It was my 6'1 Texan chef instructor at my door with my roommates behind him.

Oh, my God. He came in and saw me when his eyes got really low. He was about to get all Walker, Texas Ranger out here. My roomies came in and told me what happened when they got to class. They told him what I said about being sick and he called bullshit. So he sent the rest of the students out early and he told them to tell him the truth. Oh my God. They laid it out for him like an episode of fucking 2020. He was mad and got them in his dad van and he brought them back to the apartment. I'm obsessed with his mom. We sat there on the floor. I don't know why we had fucking sofas because we stayed on the floor like ass at the cut like ass at a club. Yes. An hour went by. when we heard a knock on the door, it was Chef Hooker.

He had a girl with him that I'd never seen before. Chef Hooker said he had information that I needed. And if he or his dumb-ass friends come to bother us again, fuck the police, he was going to handle them. Oh, my God. He left me standing there with this girl, and I was visibly shaking and crying. She told me that 6'7 was her boyfriend,

and he was visiting her for the weekend. Oh, my God. My eyes got really big because I friggered word. made up that you can say however you feel like her man. You're like, sorry, girl. You didn't know. In my head, I was like, I've seen Jerry Springer in every trashy reality TV show, this bitch is about to kill me.

I say that because I am not a fighter. I have never been in a fight and I don't plan on it anytime soon. No, no. I told her what happened and what he said and what he did and about the two bitches they had with him. The bitch tits. The bitch tits he had, they had with him. She looked at me having a full-blown panic attack while I tried to apologize. and that is when she said,

look, I don't want to fight you. I can tell that you are kind, and this is all about the fucks that are downstairs in my apartment right now. Yes, luscious ladies, they were staying down the fuck stairs in the apartment below us. Are you kidding me?

I was fucking done at this point. Overwhelmed, confused, sad, and all the other feels. She asked me to go downstairs with her to confront him, and I said, no way am I going to see him. He had a gun. She said, trust me, he had my gun. and it had no bullets.

So holding her hand, I walked down the stairs to her room and saw them both sitting down there playing in a fucking video game. Losers. She busted in that damn door like swat and said, you rotten bitch, did you fuck her?

Oh my God. He said no without even looking up. She looked at her. Did you tell her that your grandmother died and that's why you were here, bitch? She slapped the shit out of the back of his head like he should have had a V8. Not fuck the bitch in apartment 8.

I'm obsessed with you. He turned around and looked at me and said, I don't know that bitch. She hit him again and said, You don't know, Bear? She lives upstairs. And you threatened her. He acted as if he had no clue who I was or what she was talking about.

She threw his shit at him and his friend and told them to get the fuck out. She was done with him and she did not give a fuck what he did to get back to New York, but it will still have nothing to do with her. He tried to calm her down, but it didn't work. So they argued as I slowly walked backward out of the... the room and up to my apartment to tell my roomies what happened. About three hours later, she came up to check to see if I was okay. I invited her in so we could talk about everything, and we talked for hours. That night, I made a badass friend who I will, oh, I love this.

I know. Who I was close to all through college, and we still talk now every once in a while, but I will never forget how we bet. I bet you won't. Thank you for reading this for like, holy shit. Thank you for reading this. Oh, and now I see why you say, why you said a sex worker saved you. Oh! I see it. Yep. Thank you for reading this.

Thank you for reading this. You top-notch twosome. I have attached a frozen life pause square, a.k.a. picture of my Groot. No. To this email, let me know if you want to hear about my great-grandmother's house and now she lives in my bathroom. I do.

Or the troubled first date where I was lied to and almost arrested because he was drunk and had no money. I need to hear about both of those things. I just need to hear about everything that you ever want to tell us. This little puppy. These two little puppies. Oh, my God. You guys are so fucking funny. Bear.

That just like, you guys are so fucking funny. That was so fucking funny. What a crazy story. He literally lived downstairs. That, like, what? Is terrified. What, sir, is wrong with you? Was living downstairs or staying downstairs at the very least?

Damn. And just playing video games after threatening you. after cheating on his girlfriend, destroying your property, threatening you with a fucking knife and a gun. And, yeah, the knife scratched out their people. My God. What is wrong with people?

Wild. Wow. You guys deliver. You truly did this time. I mean, you always do, but holy shit. Yeah, guys, if you have a listener tale, feel free to send it into morbid podcast at gmail.com and put listener tail somewhere in the subject line. You do it.

And we thank you. for listening and we hope you keep it. Why aren't you joining me? You're not, you said you didn't say and I hope you keep listening. Oh, what the fuck? I was wondering, I was like, where are you going? I'm melting. We hope you keep listening. And we hope you. Keep it. Weird. I was looking at you all crazy and you were looking at me all crazy. I was like, we're 400 episodes. We're over that.