Morbid - Episode 417: Listener Tales 64

Episode Date: January 13, 2023

Listener Tales 64 is, of course, a beautiful array of tales sent in by you beautiful beasts. We can't say enough how much we love reading these and connecting with you on a more personal level when we get to do these eps! This installment features a life-saving badass cat, a ghost missing a stomach, and the potential unsolved murder of one of our listener's best friends. If you have a listener tale please send it to [e-mail] with "Listener Tale" somewhere in the subject line!See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hey, Prime members, you can listen to morbid, early, and ad-free on Amazon music. Download the app today. You're listening to Immorbid Network Podcast. Hi, I'm Lindsay Graham, the host of Wondries Podcast American Scandal. Our newest series looks at the Kids for Cash Scandal, a story about two judges who stood accused of making millions of dollars in a brazen scheme that shattered the lives of countless children. Listen to American scandal on Amazon Music or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, Weirdos, I'm Alina and I'm Ash and this is Mordads. What? Yeah. It's a listener tale, baby.

Brought to you by you, for you, from you. All a fucking boat, you. Hell. Yeah. from you. All a fucking bout you. Hell. Yeah. A fucking bout is a word. A fucking bout. It's all a fucking bout you. I love listener tales episodes. They make me happy inside.

You guys make me happy inside. And this is all about you, like we said. Everybody in the club feeling happy. There you go. I'm not sure if it's a listener tale. Here I am. It's a listener tale. I am. Let's go. I'm not gonna listen to her tail. Here I am. It's a listener tail. I am.

I see him. I'm just, it's what's saying. There you go. What, what is it? Here I am. Here I am. How, and they say, do do do do do.

But it's how do you do. But you all say, how do do do? Be, just a lot. Yeah, why don't you start with this crazy one. Okay, well, this one says. I know my calculus. Oh, I don't. It says you plus me equals us. We say that to me or to listeners. I was saying it because I'm sure some of you

remember together, the parody boy band group, and that was their hit single. Nope. Ooh, you so good. I know a lot of you out there heard that, and you saying it was me. Were they like, from a TV show? Yeah, I think it was MTV.

They made a parody boy band called Together. Ah. But it was like to get her kind of thing. Oh, that's funny. And their hit single was, I know my calculus. It says you plus me equals us. She just danced. Wow, that was, that was beautiful. I saw someone mentioned it on TikTok recently. And they were like, why does no one like heralds them as the greatest group ever?

Because they have great songs. Like, I know it was multiple. It was a parody, but they had a show. Yeah. It was great. They had multiple. They had a whole album. I had their album.

It was great. I mean, as far as fake boy bands go, I'm a boys and motion purist. What is boys and motion? Bullets. I know what that is. We are the boys in motion. Yes, okay. You all do emotion from not so many. I know. I know. Yeah, there was a, you got to listen together. I can introduce you. Inside. The hardest part of breaking up is getting

back your stuff. Tell me what you're trying to hide. I can't feel. I don't know if I'm allowed to do that, but I did. And they're a big band, so you did it. All right, anyway, sorry that we just like infiltrated your listener tale. I'm not gonna say your name, cause I don't know if I can yet. But it says, what's up, weirdos? First, I would love to say how much I love your podcast. Thank you.

I love you. I've been, oh, me too. I've been a long time listener and actually just recently started to relist into them from the first episode. Thank you. More but is my go-to podcast for my daily drive, and I absolutely love how you guys interact with each other.

No. There reminds me so much of me and my best friend. That's weird, because I don't even like Alina. Yeah, I really don't like that. Fuck you. I'm going to, I'm going to toxically abuse her later. She does all the time, guys. All the podcast.

She does it. Anywho, we're kidding. Anywho, I just... I just... We're kidding. I just... We're kidding. Anywho, I just should preface this with, weird shit happens to me all the time. I love that for you. You can't me do it.

It has gotten to the point where my friends will literally just struggle off a story and say, well, that's just Monica. I'd expect nothing less. I love that for you, Monica. I don't invite weird shit to happen, but to be fair, it usually ends in an entertaining story, so I don't usually mind.

Good for you. I'm going to share a story that happened to me back in 2015. I usually wait to tell this story to people until after I get to know them. This is used as a way for me to deem if this person can handle the weird shit in my life. So naturally, it should be right up your alley. Hell yeah. To start, I should mention I ride horses. That's cool. I started writing at a Fox hunting barn in 2014 after I had major back surgery. I served in the Marines and received a service-related injury that fucked me up bad. Oh, damn, I'm sorry. I'm sorry too, and thanks for your service. Yeah. The barn I wrote at was considered the black sheep of the Fox hunting club in our area as we were not all rich and prissy. It also might have been the fact that we accidentally set a table on fire, but I digress. I'd also like to point out we've never actually caught a fox. It is called fox hunting,

but it's more like a super long trail ride with a bunch of hounds just running through the woods. That's okay. I can take that. Good to know. Thanks. The club was hosting a Black Tie event to help raise funds. And the theme was zombies. That sounds fucking awesome. A Black Tie event with the theme zombies. I love that a lot. I love that so much. I want to go to that.

I do too. And by this, I was super excited since it was the first themed event and was up to the challenge of combining a Black Tie event with fucking zombies. Yes. Monica, we're on the same wavelength. So much. So the day of the event, I started getting ready. I zombified my face, I got my hair in a beautiful updo,

and then took my outfit outside and started to apply the dirt and the fake blood. And this is where my story gets interesting. So I'm applying fake blood to my hands and pressing it into my top. During this process, I hear a woman across the street yelling and banging on my neighbor's front door. My self-preservation was strong back then, so I made note of it, but kept doing my thing

because seriously, zombies. Per yelling and pounding kept going for a while and I couldn't keep ignoring it, so I finally dropped my outfit and wanted to see what was wrong. She told me she was his mom and was supposed to have lunch with Scott, my neighbor, but he never showed. Oh no. I didn't know Scott super well, but we always waved when we ran into each other and always knew him to be nice but quiet.

I tried the door as well, but he didn't answer, so I went to his front windows. The blinds were drawn, and they were closed and locked. I ended up going through his backyard and found that his back door was unlocked. The minute I stepped into the house, I saw him. His house was super small, but also what I would consider open concept. The kitchen living room and eating area were all pretty much within view of each other. He was faced down in his living room area, and it looked like he'd been there for a while. Oh no!

I approached him and felt for a pulse, but didn't find any sign of life. He was cold and he felt stiff. His mom pounded on the front door again, so I got up and went to open the door for her. Before I let her in, I told her her son was dead. She was screaming and ran to him. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911 and started talking to the 911 operator.

The conversation went something like this. 911, what's your emergency? Yeah, I'm at the house across the street from blank, whatever. Okay, and what is the problem? I found my neighbor dead. Are you sure? Am I sure? He's dead? Yeah, definitely. I'm sure. Can you perform CPR? One second. Me, my, the mom is still sobbing rightfully so. And I go to try to flip him over even though he is dead, dead. Mind you, Scott was a big dude. And with my bad back, I couldn't manage to flip him. I picked up my phone until the operator that I couldn't. It was at this point that

my brain kind of flipped back on. And as I'm looking down at Scott, talking to the 911 operator, I realized I had left a trail of fake blood all over his house. Oh my God. But wait, it gets worse. I left fake blood handprints on dead, on dear old dead Scott when I tried to find The cops eventually showed up with an ambulance, and there I am, standing over a dead body, he's covered in fake blood, and I'm covered in fake blood with a face full of makeup to make me look like a fucking zombie. I'd be like, I know what this looks like, but I swear I did not do this.

I have never been more grateful for being a white female in my life, because instead of pulling their hands and shooting me or even arresting me, they just asked what happened. It took me around an hour to go through the house with the cops showing them where I was, and then I had to take them across the street and show them my outfit and invite them to the zombie ball. I gave the cops my phone number and they released me. I ended up showering since I was literally now covered in dead body.

And I had to reapply my zombie makeup. I messaged my other horse riding friend who I was meeting at the event that I was running late because I'd found my neighbor dead. Her response, yeah, that sounds like you see you soon. What the fuck is my life from Monica? Wow. Wow. It's my favorite.

Yeah, that sounds like you. I love that they were just like, yep. Wow. So funny. Wow. That's wild, Monica. You are wild. Wow. So funny. Wow. That's wild, Monica. You are wilds and.

And R.I.P. Scott. R.I.P. Scott, I feel so bad for his mom. I know, did you ever find out what happened? I know, I'm curious. Did he collapse or was he moving forward? Yeah, it sounds like he just collapsed. Yeah, it kind of sounds that way. But jeez Louise, that would have been scary

just because I'd be like, oh God, are they just gonna think? I know. That I've done this. Seriously. Seriously. Oi. Hey there, fellow podcast listener. It's Elena. And Ash.

And we're taking you back to the days before streaming services. Whoa. You know, when you would come home from high school, and it was only a few hours until that TV show, everyone was watching was about to come on. Well, in 1999, that show was Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In our podcast with Wondery,

the re-watcher Buffy the Vampire Slayer, we take it back to 1999. So get out your knee high boots and paste that poster of Angel on the Wall. Empire Slayer, we take it back to 1999. So get out your knee high boots and paste that poster of Angel on the wall. It's time to enter the Buffyverse. Some of you avid morbid listeners already know what we've gotten store.

Hey, wear your nose. Join us as we sway our way through Buffy's drama, action and romance, episode by episodes. Slazy, follow the rewatcher, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen early and add free on the Amazon Music or Wondery app. Darn, eirin, eirin, eirin, eirin, eirin! All right, the next one is entitled, one of my Friends Boyfriend Got Away With Her Murder Question Mark? Oh, oh, oh.

Hello fellow weirdos, I've changed the names of everyone in this tale for the sake of privacy. You can call me Luna. I love that name. Me too. Born and raised in Connecticut, so we're state neighbors, ha ha. I was told about your podcast several months ago by One My Besties, her ex of 15 years texted her about this true crime podcast that she should listen to because it reminded him how she and her friends used to banter Holy shit for being out of a loop for so long. He was right

I've never listened to a podcast before but once I checked you ladies out. I was hooked I started with episode one and I'm almost caught up I'm a capricorn two years old event Elena and my baby sister is a crazy little Gemini I like it. I love dear. I baby sister is a crazy little Gemini. I like Ash. I love you too. I love you too. A crazy little Gemini. Ask me. I could go on about all the things we have in common and how we should be besties, but this will end up being a listener novel. LL hashtag love you guys. hashtag love you back. hashtag love you so much back. I have attached to PDF because obviously it's a little fun Elena. Excuse me. And if it makes it on the podcast, I will ship myself, but in a good way. You just pooped.

Thank you. Thank you both so much for existing and creating this amazing podcast that is now always in my ear. Lots of love. Here comes my real name, so please don't say it. Beep. I like your name though. I'm just saying.

All right, let's open this up. Okay, here it goes. I'm going to try to keep this as concise as possible, but there are details that I feel are needed to get the whole picture. This is the story of a murder. Question mark of my best friend, May. And that's in quotations, that's not the real name.

Okay, okay. Little backstory. May and I became friends when we were four years old. She lived next door to my grandparents' house and our dads had grown up together as well. We were inseparable. My parents divorced and my mom remarried and bought a house which happened to be a hop-skip jump through May's backyard to get to. And we were over the moon.

I went to Catholic school. She wrote that I didn't. And she went to public. But that's tough too. Like going to Catholic school and your best friend goes to public. Yeah, that's tough too, like going to Catholic school and your best friend goes to public. Yeah, that is hard. And we would get to see, but we would get to see each other almost every day. My dad called her his fourth daughter and her parents were my second set. Her brother in the bro I never had.

Oh. Okay, you get the point. We grew up and remained close through our lives. Though our lives took us in different directions. I had my son in 2006 and obviously my world changed. May was not settled down with anyone and was living her single life. May had a lot of friends. She was always the life of the party, fun kind, outgoing,

and she'd give you the shirt off her back. We had a close group of friends of which we called May the glue. We four of us became and have remained close through her. Oh, I love that. Me too. I was working at a nursing home in 2008 and helped May get a job in the kitchen. Soon after, I was promoted to manager of said kitchen. Awkward yes, but May was awesome and totally understood the professional boundaries we had

to maintain in the work environment. May started dating an older guy who lived in the town named Tom around this time. She stayed with him often, which put her right up the street from my house, so this was perfect for us to be able to hang out more. Tom turned out to be a controlling and abusive asshole. May was on again, off again with him. She kept going back. You know the sad story of this type of relationship. In July of 2009, I was set to take my first vacation from my new job as manager. I had plans on the Wednesday of that week

to hang with me at Tom's house by the pool with her, and plan to bring my son. On the Tuesday of that week, I went fishing with my dad on his boat and stupidly got a bad sunburn. I canceled with me on Wednesday morning apologizing over and over. I remember her saying, come on,

you can sit under the umbrella, please, but I didn't go. I didn't know at the time that it would be the last conversation I would have with me. I'm so sorry that that was the last one. At about 11 p.m., that night, my cell phone rang. Side note, I used to be a heavy sleeper, thunderstorm last night that shook the house,

no way, type sleeper. I woke to the call, it was Ron, and that's quotes. May's older brother crying, telling me May was dead. I couldn't believe. I couldn't believe. I couldn't breathe. Sorry. I didn't know what to do. This couldn't be real. I called my sister who lives a block away from me, woke her up and told her. She came and picked me up and we raced to the hospital. When we got there, Ron was there along with some other friends. We were all just sitting outside the hospital, hoping to find out that this was some sort

of horrible mistake. It wasn't. I watched as Mae's mom walked out with her head down after having to identify her 25-year-old daughter's body. Our world was shattered. All we knew at that point was that Mae was found on the side of the road, naked, dead, and the last person to see her alive was Tom, since she was in his vehicle up until her untimely death. Her cause of death was blunt for strama. What the fuck happened?

Tom showed up knocking at my door at 6am the next morning. I was on the phone with one of our friend crew consoling each other and I started flipping out. I opened the door and said, what the fuck did you do? He was looking for a shoulder to cry on. He did not find it with me. I had seen how he treated her. I didn't trust him. And she had once told me that if anything happened to her to look to him, I tried to turn detective,

tried to ask the right questions, but he wasn't budging. He said that they had gotten in an argument and she jumped out of his moving vehicle, and that was that. I wasn't buying it. I sent him away. She jumped out of his moving vehicle, and that was that. I wasn't buying it. I sent him away. She jumped out of your moving vehicle naked.

Well, she says, why was she naked? Why did you pick up her shoes and place them next to her naked body? Why didn't you call 911? We found out that my sister's ex-boyfriend was driving along the road and came upon Bittemay's body that night. My God. He called 911. Tom had called the house he and May had left

instead of police or emergency services. According to Tom, May was said to have jumped from the vehicle when they were traveling 45 miles an hour on a road that was curving to the left. Not impossible, but sus. Another side note, I did not like to drive and was a nervous passenger. Or excuse me, sorry.

She once got a job as a forklift operator and would not do it because she said it was like trying to drive in a crowded parking lot where everyone was speeding. So that doesn't make sense that she died out of a moving meal. No, of course not. The cops started an investigation and I used that word lightly by interviewing friends, family and coworkers. I gave them everything I could think of, including her comments to me regarding being scared of him that had shook me enough to drive to his apartment one morning when she didn't show

up for work. I thought then that I was going to find her dead, but instead it was her phone that was dead and she had missed her alarm. Of everyone that the cops interviewed, there were two co-workers that told police may mention to them that she would jump from a vehicle. They closed the case with a ruling of accidental deaths. Total fucking devastation. Oh my god. I was guilt-ridden, thinking that if I hadn't blown me off that day, she'd still be here. I've forgiven myself, but I can't help thinking what if to this day. Also, if she did jump, I know deep down

there had to be something fucking terrifying going on in that vehicle. My crew agrees, we're very lucky that the four of us are still close. We do our best to get together on May's birthday and aversary and any other reason we can think of throughout the year. May's mom tried for a long time

to get more information or have things looked at again, but did not get anywhere. Tom's fate is left to karma at this point. He moved away a couple of years later and has not been seen around these parts since. I hope the burden of the truth of what happened that night, Hansen, forever. Tom, if you're listening, then I know you know this is about you, and you can get fucked. Well, that's my tale. Keep it weird, but not so weird that you're anything like the scum of the earth. That's somewhere another took our best friend away from us when she had so much life left to live.

I'm so sorry for all you and your friends and May's family that pretty much know what happened, but at the same time have no idea. And that's the thing. You know that regardless, something awful was happening in that car for her to jump out of the car at 45 miles an hour. Naked.

And she's naked. Like, come on. That doesn't make any sense. And it's interesting that this listener said that they were coming from somebody else's house. So why was she naked? Exactly. It doesn't make any sense at all.

And I can't believe that cops aren't looking at that and being like, what, we got to figure, we need an answer for that. And that he then placed her shoes next to her. And never called 911. Yeah. Like that's a cover up. It does.

Who's he connected with? It did not make sense. I'm so sorry. And I really hope someday that the truth comes out for all of you and for me. Yeah, for real. Oh, that's awful. I'm sorry, Luna.

Terrible. All right. The next one is listener tale, how a librarian acrobat was saved by an unlikely hero. Ooh, intro. I love that. It says listener tale. This incident took place some years ago, more than I would like to admit, when I was in graduate school at a university located in the deep south where I was studying to be a librarian. This was before I dropped out to attend

the National Canadian Circus School. Yes, there are circus schools across the world. Amazing. And become an acrobat instead of an academic. Wow. Bucket lists are for pussies. Live your life now. I love that.

That's a great, great way to live. It's a great motto. OK, sorry, back to the story. At the time of this event, I was living in a former plantation big house that was built somewhere between the birth of Christ in the civil war. After the soldiers of Confederate States of America were handed their collective asses and slaves were emancipated. The plantation economy tanked in this house like many of the homes at the southern, I can

never say that, erous dockercy. Thank you. Aristocracy was abandoned for many years. As time marched on, the town grew up and the old plantations and old farm houses and cotton fields were eventually covered with condos, cheap student housing and fast food businesses and bars that only guarded you if you were under three feet high and wearing a cookie monster.

Over the years, the old house saw new life as a brothel, a TB, sanitarium, a dentist office, and then a halfway house for former patients of the state mental hospital located mere blocks away. At the time of the story, the BH Big House had been carved up into four apartments, two up, two down. Mine was located on the main floor. The rooms were large, the ceilings were tall, the floors were wooden, and most of the windows were original, and the glass in them had grown wavy with age. Being from New England where everything is all disturbed, I'm sure you all have seen windows like these. As Tunisia said, that I was like,

I had those windows. That's also was my thought. Anyways, because of the wavy glass, the views from said windows were distorted, like the image in a not-so-fun fun house mirror. One had literally closed one's eye and squint to bring anything outside into focus. In other words, you couldn't see Jack shit. Like I said, most of the windows were original. However, the ones in my bedroom, which was the former dining room, as well as the one in the back door in the kitchen were brand new. This will be pertinent later in the story. As it was, my only company was a psychotic cat named Ophelia. And a special

needs hamster named Gimpy. Oh, a special needs hamster. That's adorable. And I love the name Ophelia. Ophelia spent most of the day hiding on the top shelf of my closet. That night, she would venture forth and prowl through the dark, quiet rims of the apartment, hissing and arching her back at her back, and arching her back at things only she could see. While this behavior freaked the holy shit out of my infrequent visitors,

it didn't particularly bother me. You have to understand that I was studying to be a librarian. My world was one of logic and reason, and everything in it was organized, categorized, and alphabetized, and cross-referenced on the butt. Out the butt. Out the butt. Out the butt. I merely accepted that her brain was tuned to a frequency that no one else could register. Other manifestations of Ophelia's fragile mental state included her predilection for peeing on the burners of the stove and playing with cockroaches that lived under my refrigerator.

Eek! When she tired of battling the copper colored critters across the kitchen floor like hockey pucks. Oh! Oh! She would literally eat them alive. I don't know which was worse. Ugh!

Why you do this to me? Hearing the crunches of roaches dying in the paws of my psycho cat are being hit with a smell of burning piss when I turn on the stove in the morning. Oh, terrible. The odor is perhaps best described, yup, as a mix of ammonia, udaskunk, udaskunk, and old bon water.

That's actually what Jaxley looked at. He smells like. Basically, the bitch was bat shit crazy. If my tale thus far has led you to believe that mine is a ghost story, I apologize. I do have a spupi story, but that is another tale for another time. Now is the time. Now is the time. It's always the time. Just give us two tales in one. However, the nature of the story I am here to tell left me longing for the company of a ghost or gallum, goblin, or wizard of all is flying monkey that would send unwanted visitors running and screaming from my door.

One night, as I lay in bed reading a toured romance novel, I am a center-certified biblia file. Not a snob. Philia descended from her perch in the closet and began her nocturnal patrol of the paranormal. She stopped beside my bed and stared at a large bank of windows in my bedroom, transfixed by the partially parted drapes that were gently swaying in the sultry summer breeze. You're a really good writer. Yeah. No, I did not have my windows open fresh airs for daily life. But the house was as old as your great-grandmother's, as your great-grandmother's great aunt Fanny.

And the leaky old windows kept a constant breeze floating throughout the apartment like the silent wake of a wandering wayward spirit. Oh, I love it. I was hot. I was hot. Now, Philia was tripping out, staring at the window when she suddenly arched her back and her hair literally stood on end like a spike covered pufferfish. She began hissing and slowly backing away from the windows. While these psychotic hallucinations were, quote, unquote, normal for her, that night's display was somewhat unusual. That night her fur was not only standing on end, but I shit you not.

Small sparks shot out from the tips like a sparkly roll of Fourth of July. This phenomena, while not entirely unprecedented, only occurred when she encountered other people, which was rare, considering she spent most of her time on the top shelf in my closet. I knew at once that there was something standing outside the dark and backyard looking through my window. Now sisters, this was back in prehistoric times when there were no cell phones, brick, flip or otherwise. Wait, I need to stop you for a second. What's happening right now that the cat sparks are coming out of its hair?

And this is just something that happens with cats? I don't have cats. I have three cats and I have never seen sparks shoot out from the types of cats. I feel this was passed over too quickly without any kind of comment to what the fuck is happening. You're not wrong. I think in my brain I was just like, what? Are you Googling?

I'm Googling because I'm like, what the fuck does that mean? Yeah, I've never, I've like grown up with cats and I've never seen that. I am not saying I don't believe you, I do believe you. But I'm like, why don't my cats do that? Oh, I mean, maybe it's static electricity?

No, but she said like a sparkler or so, excuse me, they said like a sparkler. Yeah, it's, it's static electricity. Shit, it says like like a sparkler, or excuse me, they said like a sparkler. Yeah, it's static electricity. Shit, it says like when you pet them in a dark room, you can sometimes see the sparks from the static electricity. Oh, that's cool. Okay, that makes sense now. I need in a moment to collect my thoughts

because I was like, I was like, where just blowin' by that too quick? That's nuts. Whoa, okay. Do you think that ever happens? Like the cats don't get like static electrified very often, but no, if they do, I just feel it really quick. And then I'm like, oh my god, I wasn't zapping you, I'm sorry.

But maybe in a dark room, you would see the spark. Maybe I'm gonna have to turn off the lights. Turn off the lights. I'm gonna have to probably shouldn't. All right, now sisters, this was back in prehistoric time where there were no cell phones, brick, flip or otherwise. In fact, the only phone in the entire house

was a pay phone in the entry. And you guessed it, this bitch had used all of her change doing laundry that afternoon. Okay, I might have spent some of it on snacks from the vending machine in the laundromat. Nothing like an ice cold coke and a bag of flour. Oh, just to pass the time. That sounds great.

Oh, that sounds so delicious. Since the phone was not an option, I immediately turned off all the lights in the apartment, drug my four hundred ton futon to block my front door, and engage the chain lock on the kitchen door, which led to the car-port and backyard. I tried and vain to drag the refrigerator in the front of the door, but regardless of the adrenaline pumping throughout my body, this chick was a would-be librarian, not a Amazon and Ophelia and Gimpy, whereas useless in this regard as a screen door on a submarine, or so I thought.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the back door. I'm shitting myself. I don't like it. The sudden noise propelling me forward, like, toward the ceiling, like a, sorry, I fucked this all up, and you were great. The sudden noise propelled me toward the ceiling,

like a bottle rocket, and triggered an episode of exposed, a false onset diarrhea. Yes, I literally shot my pants, I don't blame you. I fully expected an axe to split through the door and Jack Nicholson's creepy ass had to pop through the hole when I heard a man's voice saying, man, it's the police.

This being in the self, it was more like, my own, this is the police. I love that. I pulled back the curtain on the window and the door and peeped out. There was a man in a full-last blue uniform complete with a flashlight handcuffs and a holstered gun. I blubbered something unintelligible because of the tears and snot and shit leaking out of my body but it was probably something like praise Jesus, son of God. He said I was

patrolling the neighborhood and saw a fellow looking through your bedroom window. I chased him off, but I lost him. Now, why don't you just let me in and I'll check your doors and windows to make sure they're secure. Hate to think of anything happening to a pretty little thing like you. Get the fuck away from my door, sir.

I feel like that's a no for me, sir. I'd be like, that's unprofessional. Get fucked. Thank you so much for your time and your service, but you can leave. Thank you, sir. I opened the door a crack, but left the chain in place. Despite the uniform flashlight and gun,

something just didn't feel right. Then it struck me. He was wearing thick glasses. I'm pretty sure you'd be rejected by the police academy if you were legally blind. I think so. That's true. And there was a second tip off.

How the hell did he know it was my bedroom window unless he was the one looking for him? Oh, it's for you to think on your feet. Like start with Shinn, you're literally marinating in your pants as wild. As reality was doing in my, a gelap, a gelap, a gelap, a gelap,

a gelpid pated, adipated, adipated, adipated.ated, ad-pated. Ad-pated. Ad-pated. Sorry, those are the same. And you give us the definition. It means you give us a lot of definitions and I appreciate that.

You did, thank you. Oh, Philia somehow squeezed through the crack in the open door and launched herself at the faux police officer, sinking her claws in his man titties and dangling like a rock climber, hanging by their fingers off of sheer cliff. Oh, feel ya. Then for good measure, Psycho Attackity grabbed his chin in her paw and her jaw's

in my clothes. Oh my gosh. I swear, I heard that familiar crunching sound. Ophelia had caught herself in other culture. The blind, fake police man, wailed like a banshee and ran down the sidewalk like a rabbit with his tail on fire. Ophelia is still swinging from his chin. A minute later, a pair of real police officers showed up on my doorstep.

I knew they were real this time because right about then, Ophelia appeared out of the darkness, sontered casually and calmly up to the officers, snaked her body between their legs and slipped back in the door, her fur as flat as a fucking run-lul. I love that she sounds like, hey boys. She's like, it's a walk. She's like, these are the good ones. Like, I feel like she's made West. She's like, made West walk in through the like,

hey fellas. Hey, she's like, I love it. She comes out of the darkness. Well, Ophelia made the 10 o'clock news and became a minor celebrity. The mayor actually sent her a case of tuna fish. I told you it was a small town. That's iconic, that's amazing.

Afterwards, one of my neighbors had some stickers printed up that said, warning, premises patrolled by a psycho-attack cat, which they distributed around the neighborhood. They never caught that cock sucking flee-fucking-human cockroach, but he never showed up in my town again. Oh, I think it was the stickers and everyone's window that did it. Well, that's the end of the story. I said before I have a spooky one. I'll save for another time

Okay, Ash take it away Keep it weird But not so weird that you think you're gonna peek into somebody's wind bedroom window wearing a cop suit and then knock on the door and say I'm a real cop you little pretty little thing and somebody's gonna kill you if I don't come in here and check all your golf stand Locks, but don't keep it that weird because guess what, Ophelia, the attack kitty will fucking kill you. Wow, that was perfect. And Ophelia for fucking mayor is what I say forever. She is a real one.

I'm obsessed. A real one. All right, the next one that I am going to read, that was hilarious. By the way, thank you for that. In the picture that you painted. It is so, I could see everything. Yeah, shout out to by the way. Thank you for that. Thank you. And the picture that you painted, it also, I could see everything. Yeah, shout out to Ophelia.

I'm obsessed with that. Shout out to Ophelia. She's gonna protect you forever. Yeah, she is. Even in the afterlife one I'm gonna read is listen or tell for your earholes. I have met the victims of a serial killer. What? It says hello founders of the Weirdo community.

Let me do the standard greeting of Holy Hell I love you to. Been listening since the beginning. No like for real. Y'all had just released episode five Holy Shit. Oh my God. My oldest sister and I are 10 years apart in the same age range as you two, and it makes my spoopy little heart happy

and think of her when I listen. She's an 85 baby and I'm a 95 baby. Holy shit, that's weird. Ash, I know you're curious. She's a cancer and I'm a capricorn. Whoa, what a combo. Okay, so first let's get this out of the way. Let me make sure.

Yeah, okay. My name's Sarah. It's like, oh, it's not. Nope, not. It's like Sarah, but with a funky twist, and yes, you can use it. Haven't changed the name in the story either because not many people are involved.

No one is in danger here. And the one who does listen to morbid is my stepmom Nancy, subnance. The Spooks Booc has been attached in a putt of fuff for your convenience. Also attached as a photo from my Instagram, from my front porch of my stepmom's house. You'll see the country road I'm talking about in the story. Well, this is beautiful. Ooh, but also like, ooh, spooky, soul spooky, but I want to live there. Let's see.

So here's the story. It's a long one. So hold on to your butts. A thousand percent worth it though. Just you wait. A years 2007. I'm 11 years old and I'm short as fuck. So I'm walking around the world looking probably closer to eight or nine. I feel that. The short life is a hard life. Yes, I also feel that. She had happens. Nothing to do with the story, but Elena and I are similar heights from what you have all said. So I know she gets it. That's true. I do.

My mom, Sweet Angel, face of a lady named Wendy, actually named after Wendy Darling, because her mom had just read Peter Pan for the first time when she found out she was pregnant. That's adorable. That's precious. Had just passed away after a bad bitch three year battle with cancer.

I'm so sorry. My dad had also just gotten remarried too. You guessed it from the intro, Nancy. We moved into her three story farmhouse from ours because it was bigger. Also a nine anchor acres of land surrounded by forest and trees. Oh yeah. Also about a 10 minute drive from the Piscast and Nashia. Is that how you say it? I don't know. I've known how like what this is before, Pizca, I think it is. I'll sing a song while I'm looking at it. Yeah, just talk about something.

Things up. No, I'm gonna sing my song where I sing while you look things up. I'm gonna sing it so good. Looking to me, I just said, I'm going as fast as I can. I promise everybody's like, God damn it, Alaina, please look that up way faster. All right, I got I gotta hold on. Ah

Oh, she just said forest Pizka hey We're even had to hear my shitty song look at that all right Uh 10 minute drive from the Pizka National Forest which is part of the Appalachian Trail or Appalachian I'm not really sure I get it wrong every time. I wish you had said or Appalachian if you're nasty But you have or Appalachian if you're nasty. Thank you. But up here, we say Appalachian,

or at least my family does. So that's just what I grew up with. The tale begins at the farm, what we call Nancy's house. It's a house in Horseshoe, North Carolina. Population under 3,000 people. Whoa. Basically, everyone knows everyone to some sort of extent.

The way the house is set up is that the front porch faces that old country road that everyone who lives there has to use to get to the local surrounding towns. Brevard, Asheville, Hendersonville, et cetera, think 15 plus minute drive to the nearest Walmart. It's a quiet road, and not uncommon to see people go and walks on it through the day. It's especially easy to see them from the front porch.

In the spring and summer of 2007, I particularly noticed one old couple who would take, oh, this is going to break my heart, you know what this is. I particularly noticed one old couple who would take walks pretty often and saw them when we would go on hikes in the forest. Almost every day I saw them. I'd wave and say a little high from my porch and they'd always wave back. Cute little couple, reminded me of my grandparents, except they were activist fuck. Miss Maim in particular could outrun me up a mountain if she wanted to. Hell yeah. Then one day in November of 2007, I realized I didn't see them around anymore.

I was 11, so I really didn't think much of it. I commented to my parents, and we all shrugged it off as them being elderly, and it's getting colder outside. Starting that night, I began to wake up in the middle of the night to a tall shadow man in my room. Not creepy, no bad vibes, nothing. Also, zero features, just a purely black shadow wearing a hat. He almost felt safe, strange as it may sound. Now mind you, I did not grow up in a house that believed in ghosts, but I did grow up in an extremely religious house that believed in angels and demons.

So I figured either the good Lord above is protecting me, or it's been a solid 11 years on planet Earth. If this is how I go, peace out, motherfuckers. What is rational mind in 11? You know what, this is either the good Lord protecting me or it's been a great 11 years. I'm out. Nothing I can do about it. I never said much, because I thought nothing of it, since Shadow Brosky wasn't doing me any harm.

Also, again, super religious fan, and was not looking for a pentacostal exorcism either. I really don't blame you. Dude was chill, and I was decently unbothered. He stayed around for years. I'd see him randomly around the house every now and then. Almost like how my grandparents would check in to make sure everything was okay. I'd see him out in the house every now and then. Almost like how my grandparents would check in to make sure everything was okay.

I'd see him out in the field and outside a lot too. He really seemed to enjoy being outdoors. Same Z's my guy. Fast forward to 2018. I'm 23 and moved out at 19. I was visiting home with my husband and I realized I hadn't seen my tall shadow friends since I moved.

I decided to ask my stepmom about the shadow man. I thought she'd laugh and brush it off or just go, that's really creepy. And instead, she goes, the tall one with the hat. Ma'am, what? Yeah, I've been seeing him around for years. Oh, okay, real casual nance, thanks. That's for again, the April 26th of 2021.

It's a Monday, I'm at work. I'm listening to morbid. I'm listening to this awful, but so well done case and stop dead in my tracks, immediate tears of my eyes. I hear Elena say that Gary Michael Hilton, I knew that's what this was. I did too. Killed John and Irene Bryant of Horseshoe, North Carolina

in late October 2007. I immediately looked up their pictures. It was the old couple that used to walk by my house. Oh, I never knew. I didn't get into true crime until after I had moved away. And again, I was 11 when this happened, not exactly a dinner table discussion to have with your fifth grader.

I won't claim that my shadow friend was Mr. Bryant because I hope to all of the gods that he is resting in peace. But I mean, absolutely zero harm or sadness to his family by implying it. But I do like to think that parts of he and Irene still glimmer throughout every now and then so they can enjoy the outdoors and fresh and worth Carolina countryside air again. I believe that too. I do too, absolutely. I think that's exactly what they would do.

Because that's where they were happiest. They always say that you go where you're the happiest. Exactly. And you're right. Miss Mim was a bad bitch. Yeah, she was. She could take us all along. Anyway, my spooky friends, that's my story.

That's the story of how I was unknowingly neighbors of the victims of a serial killer. And was checked in on what I'd like to believe was the parts of themselves they left on this earth. I think it's OK if we keep it this weird. I think so. That was so beautiful and heartbreaking. And just like all of the above.

Yeah. And you know what? Like, oh, it's just that story in particular. I remember reading that when I was researching it and it just destroyed me. Yeah. Like, their love and their lives were something you don't see. It's just not what you see.

So it was like literally like otherworldly. Oh, it kills me, it really does. And John and Irene and like to their families, like I hope that parts of them are around and still enjoying. I think so. Like they're resting in peace, but they've left the parts that just wanna explore. Yeah, totally.

I love that. That was like a really beautiful tale. That was like, thank you for that. What I like to call devastatingly beautiful. It was devastatingly beautiful. That just like touched me. Me too. Oh, all right.

This sounds like a funny one. So I'm going to move on to this one. All right, yeah, let's move on to a funny one. We like to end on that. Listener Tales, literal spilled tea and the devil's bunghole. Yeah, that does sound like a funny one. I think it's going to be serious. I don't think it's gonna be serious. I don't think so.

You never know, though. Yeah. Alright, so it says, happy whatever season it is when you read this. It's Kermis. So, it's Christmas, thank you. Thank you. Marissa here, and yes, you can definitely use my name. After all, Marissa spelled backward, is As I ran.

You can't miss the opportunity to realize that. Do you know that we used to say that to my best friend, Marissa, all the time? A siren. I never realized it until I met Marissa. It's one of my favorite things, a siren. Thank you for that. Thank you. I want to start off by saying how much I love your podcast. I know. I know. Everyone says that. I love it. Honestly, it keeps me going. You see, I started an Etsy shop during COVID to keep me busy.

I mean, the holidays were in full swing. I was constantly in my garage alone, early in the morning, and late at night. I could only listen to my take-in books. My god. I don't play lists so many times. What the fuck? Before I had to mix it up, but Hashtag Emo's not dead. Am I right?

We were talking about this. Oh, right, you are. We were literally talking about taking backs on me this morning. Literally talking, like you guys, it's weird. It's weird that you guys are always on the same wavelength without realizing it. Life is a simulation and I hate it.

Wow, that was fucking nuts. Like literally mere hours ago. Truly. We were talking about Elena was talking about all the concerts she got to go to. I got to go to a lot of taking back Sunday shows because it was before they were like huge. Yeah, I only got to go to one and I was bummed out about it.

But yeah, you're right, emo's not dead. And never will be. Never will be. Have you seen the videos of me forcing my kids to watch a punch? Yeah, punch it. I'm like, that's punch. That's me. That's me.

Sadada da da da. That's when I stumbled across you ladies. You spunky gals are practically my coworker. Hell yeah. But lucky for you, you never have to hear my cacles and bird-like gasps. I don't even think that's lucky for us. I want.

I'm lucky for you. You don't get to hear me mumble. Fuck you. By your hands. Hell yeah. Anytime I have a minor inconvenience, even enough about me though, let's get into it. Thank you for all your kind words, though.

Yeah. So I'm gonna hit you with a negative and positive during my storytelling. Hold onto your bungholes and let's start with the negative tail. I think that's a good way to go about it. Yeah, start with the yacht and with the yay. So I'm a mother of 17, just kidding.

Only three. Oh my god. I was literally like, oh! Yeah, when I first heard that, I was like, holy shit. But I mean, three might as well be 17. Truly. Small, lovely demons. Naturally pronounced like demons.

Damn, sorry. Have shout-out. I love it. Just kidding. Only three small, lovely demons have shot out of my precious body. But hot damn doesn't feel like 17. Oh, yeah. I'm sure Elena can relate.

Total mom strokes. Yep, definitely can. Anywho, at the time of this story, I only had my first spawn, who we will call E. E was around two and a half, three years old at this point. I was a hundred years pregnant with me, sister H, and we were starting to prep her nursery. We all feel that.

Yeah. I don't yet, but like I watched it happen, and that's a hundred years pregnant is a real thing. You were a hundred years pregnant, feel that. Yeah. I don't yet, but like I watched it happen. And that's 100 years pregnant is a real thing. You were 100 years pregnant. Yeah. Two times. Yep. Now, a little backstory on our house. It was in the beautiful state of Washington. Shout out to Bigfoot. Hope you're listening. I do too. Me too. Yeah. We didn't own this house. We didn't rent this house. This was a lovely, let the military pick which it whole possibly black mold infested box of walls you get to live in.

Just kidding, just kidding, somewhat. It wasn't that horrible, except for all the old-ass ancient Native American burial grounds located throughout the entire base and town in which we lived. Oh, not a costum shit. The second we moved into our crusty residence, I immediately was like nah, shit's weird. The main floor wasn't too bad, minus the mucus colored walls. Orange-tinted vinyl hardwood floors and shitty appliances. Who tints hardwood for orange?

Oh fuck. No sketchy vibes on that level, but go up or down, and you'll feel like you're crawling into the depths of hell. Probably that. My husband and I had to have a buddy system for the basement when we did our laundry. So neither of us would get instantly

statched into what I can only imagine would be the dull spinged out. Oh yeah. After he gulped a gallon of Taco Bell fire sauce, I'm obsessed with you. When you would be in the master bedroom, or ease rim upstairs, it always felt like you were with someone.

Even doing simple chores, like putting away laundry creeped me the motherfuck out. My husband was always on rotating shifts in the air force, so I spent mad nights sleeping alone with my thoughts and nightmares. Oh, God. Like on in your pregnant too.

So I know those nightmares are weird. Oh, so vivid. I remember hearing about alainus. Yep. You were the weirdest fucking dream you were pregnant. Yeah, you do. As I grew more pregnant and more miserable, we decided that the only option for H's nursery

would be for us to move downstairs to one of the bedrooms and have E and H upstairs, sorry, have E and H have bedrooms upstairs together. When we moved our rooms around, we gave E the master bedroom. Soon after we all made the switch, E started to have night terrors. Oh no.

Every single time he would to have night terrors. Oh, no. Every single time he would have these night terrors, he would talk about a half human, half skeleton that came out of the wall near the stairs and would watch him lay in bed. Oh. That's like the lady that didn't have a body, but she was just made of bones.

She didn't have a body. She was just made of bones. Her face was kind of human-y. Eww. I can still fucking see that bitch to this day. Man, I wish I could see her. I'm picture there. I wish I could draw.

But I want to know what you saw. I know. But it's like I got to see it. She was fucking terrible. Anyways, he realized this creepy half breed creature as having a missing stomach. And he would watch him walk back and forth near the wall. At first, I figured it was his imagination because at this point, his two biggest obsessions were trolls and anything Halloween.

We were watching a lot of Halloween shows, movies, and music videos on top of reading plenty of Halloween picture books. So I figured we might have brought on the spooky season a little too much, especially because it was June. We've all been there. We're there, we're. We're literally every day. All of my doubt came to a freaking screeching halt,

one disturbing morning. My sweet baby, sugar pie, honey baby, woke up before me and trotted down our shat colored stairs across our goldfish tinted hardwood, faux hardwood, and into our closet size bedroom. In the bedroom, he found his mama sleeping, looked like she just followed a full-size pig at this point in her pregnancy.

But definitely not a pig from the Picton Farm. Can I get a amen? Amen. Amen, and fuck you, Willie. That's what they wrote. I will. I awoke to his little pitter-patterns and invited him to come snuggle.

He climbed over my mount, Vesuvius, she fell and started to cuddle. He then said something that shot my spine right out of my rectum. Oh god. You're hilarious. He said when he walked into my room, the stomachless cunt from upstairs was standing over top my body watching me sleep. What? Me being a badass bitch from New York, I originally thought that if I ever had an encounter with a demon,

I would put him in a fucking chokehold and soak his ass in holy water. Nah, not the case. Like a boiled noodle on the bottom bed frame like a breaching humpback whale. Split open my entire lip and was bleeding all over the carpet. Did your girl ass I ram wake up? Not even for a fucking second. I want to know you. This is the one. Oh, you want to know me. Yes, ma'am. Yes. My mom hurt me, fall to my death from her bedroom, and came to check on me and found me,

flopped out looking like a bloody turd. So for me to wake up easily is rare. I guess that's what you're trying to say. I guess especially mom growing a whole last other human. But needless to say, we didn't stay in that house much longer before we pieced the fuck out, leaving that stomachless twat in our dust. I ended up becoming friends on Facebook with the girl who moved in after us. And one day she posted on the Facebook page asking if anyone else on base

had creepy things happen and feelings happen in their house because they were noticing negative vibes. Cringe her problem now. She's her problem now. Now for the positive part of this story. Shortly before we moved out of the devil's shadows, the bananas happened. Why is this so funny? I don't know, you're a straight person.

That's such a good writing. I was minding my own business, bebopping in the kitchen, do a math thing. He, H, and my husband were snuggling in the living room quietly watching a movie. I also could I just say your family sounds wholesome. I know they sound so cute. I had finally pushed out that tiny little under six pound baby girl.

I decided to make myself a cup of Earl Grey. Hell yeah, you did. As I was dunking my tea bag, I started singing up and down, up and down, up and down in my head and thought of my grandma. I think I might have sang that wrong, do you know what that is? Maybe just like up and down, up and down. There you go, try it. I don't know.

See, my grandma lived with us when I was a child because unfortunately, she was battling breast cancer and Alzheimer's. Every evening after school, I would race home to sit next to her so she could watch me do origami. Ah, the 90s. Oh my God. And we'd drink tea together.

When we did, she would always sing up and down, up and down, up and down. Unfortunately, she died a couple years into our tradition, but I always think of her when I'm drinking tea. That was so beautiful. Fast forward to me standing in my kitchen thinking about her. And what do I hear? Eee singing in the living room.

Up and down. Oh my god. Up and down. Are you kidding me? Down. My anus hit those shitty orange-tinted floors. I spilled half of my tea. I looked my husband dead in the eye like, what?

Oh, what? He looks back like, yo. Now listen up, y'all. E He couldn't see me making the G. And he had also never heard me say that out loud, which if you didn't catch in the text above, I was singing it in my head, not out loud. Oh my God. I was shook.

I did a full blown yeet to the basement so fast that I forgot to even use the buddy system and I dialed up my mom. I told her the whole story and we had a good cry for like 20 minutes. I went back upstairs. When I went back upstairs, my husband is in our room changing baby H. E was smiling on a, E was smiling by our back door. I asked him what he was up to. Clench those assholes of yours for what I'm about to say. I'm clenching. E tells me that shortly after I left, and my husband went with the baby,

an old lady came in through the front door. They played hide and seek for a while, and right before I came upstairs, she told them she loved him, but that she had to go. And she left through the back door. Oh my God. That is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.

I am your grandma. Play hide and seek with your child. And I love that. And then said, I love you, but I have ever heard. I am. Your grandma played hide and seek with your child, and I love that. And then said, I love you, but I have to go. Oh, I have to go. Oh my goodness. Dead. That's all I could use to describe my feelings.

I am a shot. He couldn't get over how nice she was and how much they laughed. He still remembers everything about that house to this day, even though now he live on the completely other coast. Shout out to my fellow Charles Stinians. Isn't that a word for the fuck knows? I'm still new here. Anyway, thanks for listening.

Also, let's be best friends. Yeah, we should. It's already happened. I'll make nachos and we can summon demons, just kidding, actually. We can just watch Brawbos. All of that sounds great. Are you team Kyle Richards or team Lisa Vanderpump?

Let's chat. I am always in forever team. Lisa Vanderpump. Lisa Vanderpump? Let's chat. I am always in forever. Lisa Vanderpump. Lisa Vanderpump. Goodbye Kyle. Oh, fuck. Oh yeah. I'm not a big Kyle Richards fan.

I miss you. Bye Kyle. Gotta run. Can't have my 17 kids waking up before I get the chance to sleep. Keep it weird, but not so weird that a demon crawls out of the depths of hell to ruin a sleep all sleep for you for over two years and stands over you while you sleep. But you barely noticed because one time you were knocked and conscious as a child because your parents thought you could handle bunk beds. But really you couldn't because you were always too exhausted for making that

or gimme with your grandma that you noodle flop in your sleep. I eat to your almost death. XOXO Marissa. Also, As I Ram. As I Ram. Oh, Marissa, that was so fucking perfect. I'm obsessed with you so much. We're best friends.

Let's hang out, watch Brian Nachos. Let's talk shit about Kyle Richards. Hell yeah. Let's go. We'll talk about having 17 kids. I will listen. We'll drink some tea. It will go.

Let's do it. This sounds great. You guys. Yeah, I was gonna say, have you ever had a London fog? We can drink those. Yes. And that's why we drink. Oh yeah. Oh yeah, Emma's the real We could drink those. Yes. And from, and that's why we drink. Oh yeah.

Oh yeah, M is the real one for that one. OG, the OG. Wow, I love all of you guys so much. That was a great batch of listener tails. And it was interesting, because a few people had similar relationships with like their family members. Yeah.

And then the whole taking back Sunday thing. Yeah, that was very interesting. Were just, guys, they're just always on our wavelength. We're meant to be in each other's lives. This is why I love listener tails. I love listener tails so much. They just, they show us how, like, connected we all are.

Yeah, and there's so many for us to read. Like, you guys, some meets, some meets. You love that beat. We get like thousands of beats. Yes, we could do this forever. Weeks should. We should. Let's do it.

Let's go. All right, guys, well, we love you so much. And we hope that you keep listening. And we should. We should. Let's do it. Let's go. All right guys, well we love you so much and we hope that you keep listening and we hope you keep it weird. But not so weird that you don't love listener tales because what are you crazy? What are you crazy? Hey, Prime members, you can listen to morbid early, and Add Free on Amazon Music. Download the Amazon Music app today, or you can listen Add Free with Wondery Plus and Apple podcasts. Before you go, tell us about yourself by completing a short survey at Wondery.com slash survey.