Morbid - Listener Tales 18: The Loosey Goosey Edition

Episode Date: September 20, 2020

It’s listener tales 18 and we are absolutely stoked about it. This week you might be wondering if the two of us stumbled into a surplus of laughing gas, but we’re just genuinely giddy for the tales! Say it with us: “slap happy!” This installment includes a creepy roller derby stalker, a potential Manson family run-in and someone who gets an unexpected visitor from another realm… while rolling on E! We guarantee laugh induced hiccups at least half way into this one, join us! As always thanks to our sponsors,  Embark: This summer, Embark has a limited time offer just for our listeners! Go to Embarkvet.com now and use Promo code MORBID to get 15% off any Embark Kit Daily Harvest: Keep it simple with Daily Harvest! Go to DAILYHARVEST.com and enter promo code MORBID to get twenty-five dollars off your first box! Small Town Dicks: Don’t miss the new season of Small Town Dicks beginning on Friday, September 4th, wherever you get your podcasts. And for exclusive bonus content and special merchandise curated just for subscribers, sign up at Patreon.com/SmallTownDicksPodcast See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

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That's W-O-N-D-E-R-Y-P-O-D. Audible.com slash wondery pod or text wondery pod to 500-500 to try audible for free for 30 days. Angie has made it easier than ever to connect with skilled professionals to get all your home projects done well. Whether it's routine maintenance and emergency repair or a dream project, Angie lets you browse home on her reviews, compare quotes from multiple local pros, and even book a service instantly. So the next time you have a home project, just Angie that and start getting the most out

of your home. Download the free Angie mobile app today or visit Angie.com. That's ANGI.com. Hey weirdos, I'm Elena. I'm Ash. And this is a listener tail and I promise we're gonna get into like we're gonna change it up. But we're actually really fucking sad today. It's kind of a somber somber day.

And by kind of, I mean, very much so because we are recording this after finding out that Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the legend, the inspiration, the iconic woman herself has passed away. I'm not okay. It was pretty devastating to hear, and you know, like this isn't even a partisan thing really. It's just this is a human thing. Yeah. And she was an amazing woman. She was an inspiration. She was a legend. And she should never be forgotten. And her legacy should be shined up and held on a and held up high forever and ever. So you know what, RBG, this listener tails goes out to you.

This one's for you, Natoria's RBG, and I hope she's gonna listen wherever she is, and she's gonna laugh her ass off. I hope so too. She seems like she'd have, that she has a good sense of humor. Oh, hell yeah. And so you know what, this is for you, RBG.

Did you ever see the picture of her working out, and she's working out and to switch her asses, that's a diva, like, fuck yes. Those are my vibes forever, no way. Exactly. So we had to mention that because it's a big deal. And you know, it's a real bummer because I know I looked up to her. I know I was hoping my children would be able to look up to her.

I've read them books about her before. Yeah. And it's kind of a bummer that they're not going to grow up in a world with her in it. So we'll just make the world have her in it. Yeah. We just got to lead by example. So we just have to look at what she left for us and we got to make the world have her in it. We just, we've got to lead by example. So we just have to look at what she left for us and we got to make the world a good place. So everybody, don't shake your neighbor's hand or hug them because, you know,

pandemic, but think about it. Give them a little neighborly wave. Give them that nod. The head nod that says, I see you and I know you see me. We see each other. I see that you're a human being. Yeah. And I appreciate you. You know what? each other. I see that you're a human being. Yeah, and I appreciate you. You know what, the moral of this story is just be a good fucking human being. Yeah, just be a good person. That's all. There's this, wait, you know, that's just remind me

this is nothing to do with anything. Cool. What else is new in my brain? In my brain? In my brain. There's this like little old man at my apartment complex and I'm in love with him. Is he the one I almost hit with in my car?

Yes, that one. I was pulling out today and he was walking near the farm. Yeah. And I was like, oh my goodness. And he walks along the street every day and we waved at each other and he waved at me so enthusiastically that I think we're friends now. That's really precious.

I'm a little worried for him, though. Because that's a very busy street. Yeah, I see. And he just straight up walked in front of my car and didn't even look at us. He gives no fucks. So you know what, if you're listening, sweet old man that lives in ashes. I love you.

And just look both ways. Yeah, that's all. Maybe he's also like borderline indestructible, just like RBG. There you go. But see what? You know what? Right back around. Everybody has.

Everybody's got an inspiration. Next person. Next person. Next person. Next person. Next person. Next person. Next person. Next person. and then I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version.

And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version.

And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version.

And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I just put it in my next version. And I read this one. It's true. And I think you already know what. I haven't read any of these so far, so the first timer. The Manson family versus my grandma in a bad time house sitting. I think you know why. I guess so. The house sitting thing. Hello ladies. I heard about your podcast from one of my best friends and I've been to at least 100 episodes in the past two months. My continuing quest is to catch up before Christmas. I listen to you while I knit and crochet and let me just say you guys make for a darn good time. Oh, thanks.

Fun fact, I used to crochet. Love that. Wasn't good at it. I have two stories for you that I think you might get a kick out of. Ash, this first one is for you as it has to do with your boy Charlie. Your boy, thank you.

Me, boy. My family is a long time hardcore Simi Valley. Do I say that right? Yeah. Simi Valley, California residents. As in back when the valley was pretty much empty, we were there. So you were the valley before it was the valley. You were the valley. As we, as you well know, Simi Valley was also the home of the Manson

family for a while. They were on the side of the valley, my great grandma, great grandpa, and their five daughters were on the other. My grandpa was a certified badass. He was a paratrooper in World War II. Oh my God. He was an extra in Western films. That is like my grandpa's goal.

Like, how do you get cooler than that? You don't. And he was just all around, he was just all around tough as nails, but he had nothing on my grandma. She was the fiercest lady I will ever know. In fact, before she died and I moved out of Sydney, I learned that the power company had a special notice

about her for any employees that had to check the power lines on the property. It read something like, be advised, woman with a gun. I think amazing. She was not fucking around. No. My grandparents had an amazing piece of property. It was five acres up against the hills, so neighbors weren't all that close.

Dreams. I said, no, right. They lived in a barnhouse conversion and had orange groves and horses and a mean, mean mule. Not goals. They were hiking me. I want a mean me, Mule. A mean, mean, Mule. There were hiking trails and a service road that led to a dam behind their property.

You could cruise around back into the hills from basically anywhere around their property. It made for great exploring when I was young, but also meant that sometimes strangers would just pop out of a trail and accidentally end up on the property. Whoops! That's terrifying. That's where the goal's end. Simee Valley was slash is not the biggest place, and back then there were only so many people living there.

It came to pass one wild night that my grandpa was out drinking, probably the only, or at probably the only bar in town, and he just so happened to get into some... Fistacups. Fistac Cups. ...fist of Cups with a dude named Charlie. Oh my goodness. Who had been apparently acting like an asshole. I don't doubt that.

Do you know what I believe it? Yeah, Charlie was always wildin'. Both of them were arrested and taken to jail where my grandpa called my grandma. She refused to pick him up because she was a boss and if he was gonna get into trouble he was gonna have to pay for it. And she's my it. Incredible. She's my legend. Incredible.

If memory serves, good old Charlie Manson was bailed out and my great grandpa ended up in jail all night on his loansome. The week after the bar brawl, my grandma heard some strange noises out in the orange grove. She and my grandma, oh my gosh, I can't read grandma and grandpa. She and my grandpa grabbed their shotguns from near their bed and headed out. As one does. There were people creeping around the orange grove. People in the orange grove. People in the orange grove. Now I'm not sure if they fired more than one morning shot,

but they most definitely shot at whoever was lurking around scoping out the property. I'm not saying it was the Manson family, but I'm pretty fucking sure it was. I'm gonna go on record right now and say it was the Manson family. Squeaky for whom was in your backyard. Also, that would be a great shirt, people in the orange grove. Somebody draw that. I love it. My second story involves a more supernatural situation. I was 18 and I was setting for my uncle uncle's now ex-girlfriend who I knew mostly in passing. She had a super sketchy dog There's no sketchy dogs never never Dogs are never sketchy, but I don't splined and she's not even sketchy. I think that makes her least less sketchy But as long as I made no sudden movements and fed her treats the dog and I got along well enough See that's the secret to dogs.

When I had first gone over to the house, I got a weird vibe from it, but nothing I couldn't shrug off. I was stuck spending the night there anyway, creeping myself out wouldn't help me any. I did what anyone does when they house it and bought a frozen pizza and some ice cream and tried not to make a mess. Yep, that's literally every time I've ever babysat her house set. Yep, frozen pizza, ice cream, trying not to make a mess. There you go, boom, that's it. time I've ever babysat her house at yep, Rosa pizza ice cream trying to make a mess There you go. That's it try not to lose the kids I think I watched the bachelor lorette. Yep, that's always on this too. You did correct when I got tired I headed to bed wrong. That's where you went wrong. You don't go to bed and somebody else's house

You never get tired. You never go to bed. You only go to bed in your own house Yeah, I shut the dog out of the bedroom because I didn't totally trust her not to eat me while I slept. Okay. Wow. I woke up early the next morning to what felt like someone pressing down on my cheeks, mashing my head into the pillow and the same type of pressure,

shoving my body into the mattress. Oh. No big deal. Cool. It felt like someone was laying on top of me with a hand on my cheek. Just full body weight laying there, pushing my face into the pillow.

I would have gotten real fucking hyped. Oh yeah. Oh my god. Yeah, to say the least. Yeah, the least. Yeah, absolutely. I would have started wilding. I would have no wilding.

I would have, like, diet wild because of being pressed down. And I'm like, thick. There was absolutely no way it was the dog because I'd shed her out of the room. Now I am a pretty practical person for the most part, but I'm also a massive horror junkie and I love spooky documentaries. Sleep paralysis was a concept I was familiar with, but it never experienced first-hand. I'm also Christian, so I fully believe there are demons in the world that torment people.

Yeah, my mom is one. I said that. I think that was how I was watching. Got some seriously bad juju going on. It wasn't a happy place. But back to me, getting smashed into the bed. I don't know why, but I wasn't scared. I had this thought that if I could just call up for Jesus, I'd be okay.

Took a few tries, but I eventually managed to coherent. Jesus! I shan't love sh- you know. I started to sign that school, that song from Sunday school. I don't know that one. Jesus loves me this I know. And the vibe in the room changed. I swear it brained everything up. So the pressure was gone. Things felt a lot better after that. I'm glad. I've never experienced anything like that since and I'm 30 now. I don't know why it happened, but I pray that there's nothing going on in that house and that my uncle's

ex is living happily now and also that her dog chilled out. So those are my stories for you. Thanks for all the laugh and your laughter. You guys are a joy to listen to all the best weirdos. Judith, you fucking angel. Judith, I love you so much. Those two stories were phenomenal. I love the Charlie Manson one. You gave us orange groves and Charlie Manson and shotguns and you gave us demons and Jesus. I was here for the entire time. The entire time, so I appreciate it.

And sorry, we're soup. Why are you always throwing shit? Like why? Guys, was that your charger? It is, it's always my charger. Your house plugs are a little slow. Here's the thing. I know that we're super goofy right now and it's because it's been a week and I'm you know dealing with trying to sleep-trained my child. That's true. And I'm just a little loopy

so we're gonna be a little silly. And also I have a very old house with very old outlets and those outlets don't hold any plugs in the walls So my charger constantly falls out and you guys get to hear it. They're Lucy. Lucy. Motherfuckin' Goosey. What makes a person a murderer? Are they born to kill or are they made to kill? I'm Candace DeLong and on my podcast killer Psychie Daily, which you can find exclusively on Amazon music. I share a quick 10-minute rundown every weekday on the motivations and behaviors of

the criminal masterminds you read about in the news. I have decades of experience as a psychiatric nurse, FBI agent, and a criminal profiler. On Killer Psychie Daily, I'll give you my expert perspective on cases like the mysterious New York City drugings, Breaking Down Laurie Valor, aka Mommy Doomstays Motives, and what drove Caitlin Armstrong to murder. I'll also bring on expert guests who add even more insight into these criminal minds. I promise you won't regret adding these 10 minutes to your morning routine. Hey, Prime members, listen to the Amazon Music exclusive podcast Killer Psychie Daily in the Amazon Music app. Download the app today! What if you were trafficked into a cult over shot nine times or fell in love with a vampire or went into a minor surgery and woke up one week later, paralyzed.

What would you do? I'm Whit Missaldine, the creator of this is actually happening, a podcast from Wondry that brings you extraordinary true stories of life-changing events, told by the people who lived them. From a young man that dooms his entire future with one choice, to a woman who survived a notorious serial killer. You'll hear their first-person account of how they overcame remarkable circumstances. Each episode is an exploration of the human spirit and personal discovery.

These haunting accounts sound like Hollywood movies, but I assure you this is actually happening. Follow this is actually happening wherever you get your podcasts you can listen to ad free on the Amazon Music or Wonderly app. Which one are you reading now? The next one that I'm gonna read, as well, is... What are you gonna write to da? What are you gonna write to da? I don't know. I don't know. I'm not gonna start all. I don't know. I don't know y'all start off. I don't know, don't know. All right, so the one that I'm gonna read is there goes the neighborhood and other 80s fuckery.

Ooh, the 80s fuckery. We love it. So he starts it off amazingly. Hello, Mr. Sizz of the Macabre. Dominatrices of the Deviant. Did I just fly my Freak flag? Or Raiders of the ominous? I was so here for that the entire time.

I don't need to go anywhere else. This is amazing. Fuck me up. My name is John. Hello, John. I love your name. Feel free to use my name as I wish a person would steal my identity. With my status, I win that swindle. Oh, okay, John. I have two very life-defining stories, one based in truth and the other based on supernatural fuckery that might make one sad, but I'm Teflon John so it doesn't

bother me regardless. I'll start with a certified verifiably true story and if you like, I'll submit the other. Yes. The year was 1988. I was a smart-ass 10-year-old. Neighborhoods were actually filled with kids playing in the streets and physical activity was encouraged. In fact, it was common for our parents to order us outside until dinner. In my small Ohio town, long before my father struck it rich and high-tailed it to Cincinnati. We were like everyone else in town, working class, ignorant of our lack of material things, subject to the accouterments of the 80s Aquinette horror movies on VHS and using a library card catalogs as our Google. The 80s were not about neon spandex, like every sorority girl at every 80s

parties ever in history would have you believe. Obviously we were all up in each other's business, usually in clusters of 10 houses of concentrated gossip. The 11th house down the road might as well have been another city. Three houses down lived joy, a much older girl who I was crushing on. Hard. John and Joy. John and Joy.

They were the only ones with a pool, so their three bedroom ranch-styled house was considered the rich house on the street. I spent countless hours coincidentally popping tricks on my skateboard in the street in front of her house. With the broad hope she would look out her window and fall in love with the rat-tailed bugleboy wearing pre-pubescent Hulk Hogan's superman fan shredding the curb in her gaze.

Wow. I painted the best picture. It did. I know you. I see you and I know you, John. John Hughes Phil is convinced me this was the way. In the summer of 88, my best friend Ray called my landline at 9 a.m. on a Saturday. You're what? Interrupting my TV block of wrestling, roller derby, and a billionth VCR viewing of the

lost world. Yes, I love that movie. I was like, John, you got me. You got me, John. Jodie Williams, Michael. So what Ray said was, Joy moved. He blurted out. And I assumed this was Dickish Tom Foulife

since I had stolen some garbage pale kids cards from him the day before. Oh, damn. Oh, that's not good. No, that's not good. Question mark. Not good. Not good for the 80s. I hung up and he called again and again,

not wanting him to leave a dumb message on the answering machine since I didn't know how to erase anything and my parents forbade me from touching this earth-shattering technology. Honestly. You should have been around for the great neighborhood reveal of our microwave in 85. Suck it, Steve Jobs. I took the landline phone off of the receiver. That was ghosting in the 80s.

That's why it was so much harder to ghost people. It certainly was. You wanted your phone calls, you couldn't ghost. Yeah, you couldn't just had to take it off the hook. Losers. Cutting to the chase, we made up later in the day because boys, it turns out that joy hadn't indeed moved. And my love life was forever, it was over forever.

A good run. This was where my memory gets more slippery than melted forever, was over forever. A good run. This was where my memory gets more slippery than melted butter on a cold, cold tooth. You write, like, I mean, to our souls. The pictures you paint for me, John. Like they somehow always existed, suddenly a hillbilly family with like a thousand members lived in the house with the pool. They kept, they kept themselves and retained an air of mystery and room.

And room in the neighborhood. Something was just off about them. In our lower middle class asses looked down upon them. I love you, John. I love you so much. Their kids never left the yard, never changed clothes, obviously never bathed and had blatant home haircuts. Never any shoes, a limited grasp on the English language, even though they were Americans. The rich house became that house, for younger listeners, classism and status were the theme of the 80s. So true. Steven's family lived four doors down, and he was a cop. And during a July 4th cookout, while we were abusing sparklers and ripping

our skin off on a quirky, mart version of a slip inside, the adults were adulting with Cores banquet and shooting the shit. Yes. Ray, my 11-year-old best friend, with the soul of the neighborhood tabloid geriatric. I can't wait to be the neighborhood tabloid geriatric. I love this. Ray, my 11-year-old best friend, with the soul of the neighborhood tabloid geriatric. That's just a great one That's incredible Overheard Steve telling the adults while he was snooping to steal a Bartles and James cooler. Yes That my grant that the grandmother of this new family had been in prison and was recently released. Oh, no Oh my god the next line ray who's saying bolted his chubby ass to our gang

Nearly hyperventilating with this juicy template, queued several weeks of clubhouse theories and firsthand experiences we lied about. Incredible. The house with a pool became the house with a ghoul. We grew up on 80s horror films where three things were guaranteed. A nude girl for no plot reason. Sexment death and former prisoners were always psychopaths. Yes. Probably a girl or a butterfly or for me a polyabdual video, distracted our focus.

And as we did back then, one August day when the cars, when the cars from the house with a pool were all gone, we hopped several chain linked fences, employed our eight-year-old tag along as watch out. We paid him with bubble tape. Oh, bubble tape! Bubble tape! And when for a swim, a much better time than the usual lousy sprinkler, we didn't choose the thug life, the thug life chose us. Oh, my God, I'm moving. After some Marco Polo and diving for pennies,

I was the first to see her. Filling the frame of a small bathroom window with eyes that bordered on pretter natural, the movie Lady and White had come out that year and if Dark Bull gamers exist, this woman was a facsimile of the Catherine Helmand character, terrifying on its own, but more so with this woman whose huge crazy eyes never blinked and never really looked at you but through you. To this day, this is how I remember her. My friends vanished like a virgin on prom night, bubble tape at

all, but I stayed for a few moments locked and foolishly brave. But the second her silhouette vanished from the window, my wet ass and boom box were jumping fences like it was in a equestrian event. Incredible! The next day, I received a knock on the door. My parents were at work and I hadn't had a babysitter for years, a sign of the time. I opened it and a little girl, one of the American horror story hillbilly's cast with her bowl cut and noticeable stench stood on the porch as if place there is her home. Seriously, this is her grasp on English. I assume she met my five-year-old

sister who was in daycare, but this girl didn't know my sister and was told to be hanging out with her. I was polite and told her that she had the wrong house. Again, she asked, is her home? A little, this is like, is Tamra home? Exactly. Exactly. The hillbilly version. A little creepy now, I told her. Then I noticed a woman on the sidewalk

and my nipples went hard. And the ensuing chill sent my arm hair skyward. It was grandma crazy eyes, clad in a flowing nightcown in the middle of the day Just standing there unflinching and unblinking just Staring I pulled a bluff and turned around so to know but to no one in my empty house and yelled dad is Kelly home I pause Yeah, I paused for effect and turned back around she's not home. Sorry. I got to go help my dad clean his guns on the nose

much She's not home, sorry. I gotta go help my dad clean his guns on the nose much. I shut the door and found refuge behind the blinds peaking through. The lady and her granddaughter remained on the sidewalk, staring at my house for an actual eternity. What the fuck? Gull started and Ray and I had our conspiracy theories, but the house with the pool soon became a part of the fabric of the neighborhood. We avoided riding our bikes and skate boarding near it, and as the woman always seemed to be just watching from the window. Joy never watched me, but the bell which wouldn't stop. Oh my god, oh my god.

Never a word or human movement just froze in stairs. After some time, though, I felt safe. Three houses down was a safe distance in my childhood mind. September rolled around and I turned 11. I found another love of my life when a girl looked at me and didn't vomit. The old lady was never seen unless you wanted to see her. Diehard had finally made it to the video store and life was good, foreshadowing much. Then it began.

As fall trickled in, so did the mind fuck. One morning, the old lady was on the sidewalk in front of the house, staring. Another time on another day in the afternoon, staring. No! Night? Staring. No matter the weather, always in that night-cown, staring. My dad had begun commuting to Cincinnati for a business he'd opened,

and my mom is a trash person. So the only people who knew about Beosel Bubs Graham or Ray, myself and her. Ray had been using a lawnmower blade as an ninja throwing star, not a bright one, and offered his services, but I was more fascinated now than frightened. Plus, Ray's aims was a dumpster fire. I never knew when she'd show up, but I was no longer surprised when she did.

It became a war of attrition mentally. I became numb to it, as it was a different time. If only podcasts existed then. This is the best email we've ever received. I became numb to it as it was a different time. If only podcasts existed then. This is the best email we've ever received. I could not not read this. No, this is the best one. Sorry to everybody else. This could be the whole episode. This is it. Fast forward to spring of 1989. Dad found wealth and almost overnight we moved to a posh home in Cincinnati, a man of vanity and appearances who gradually cut off my connection to Rey and my former small town until they were essentially forgotten by the 90s. Life goes on. I become an

underachievingly outpublished author. Good for you. Okay, so John. That makes sense. It does. Because I'm like, oh, okay. Who still bartends and waits tables at 43? Because, fuck it, dreams. I never inherited my father's money. Vanity obsession, thankfully. I'm the black sheep because I don't have stability or the basic savings of a 15-year-old girl. For a few years ago on Facebook, I received a friend request from Ray. Ray! He still lives in that small, Ohio town while I'm sunning it up in Florida. Same house even. He never left, and never will, and he's happy.

We started talking and reminiscing, and I asked, whatever happened to the old lady, he had a pause before asking if I really didn't know. Oh shit what happened to Grandma Hillbilly? In 1991 the Ohio reformatory for women in Mary's bill gained a return resident. Oh my god. In 1990, Crazy Eyes apparently drowned one of her many grandkids in the backyard pool. Shut the fuck up. She was later declared insane and transferred to another facility, and that's as far as I could find. A few years ago, I returned to my old neighborhood. Everything was so much smaller.

No children on the street, no collective buzz. The neighborhood was dead forever. The houses were tiny and much closer together than I remembered. The distance from my old windows to the sidewalk where the old lady and I watched each other couldn't have been more than 20 feet. As I had done 30 years prior, I hopped offence to the notorious house, and the pool was empty and disgusting.

Obviously long abandoned. I looked towards the bathroom window where I first saw her. A bottle of shampoo on the inside ledge was all I saw. I've tried to find the family online, but nothing. It's a weird bookmark in my life. My childhood and my end-and-error ending without me knowing it. Death of a child, death of an era. I'll never watch Lady and White again,

and lately I find myself peeking through the blinds. Thanks for reading. Sorry about the length, author habits. Edit as needed. If you like this story, boy, do I have another? I don't even know how to finish this, so I'll let Ash help. Stay weird, but not so weird that. This lady comes up to your house and she's fucking staring at your house all the time.

You're like, sorry, dad, I gotta clean my guns. And then later you leave your childhood neighborhood and you're like, I don't wanna leave anything so small now when you come back, but you haven't come back yet because then the lady find you find out that she was in prison and then you go back and you hop in the pool and you're like, oh my God, it's empty.

And then you look to the bathroom here and I bet you thought she was gonna be there, but she wasn't thankfully. And it was just shampoo. I wonder who even used that shampoo if that family still had there because I bet they weren't really even using that shampoo, I gotta go now. John!

John, we want your other story. John sent that other story. A meeting with the sh- That was first of all, like, written so well. I bowed. I was in your neighborhood just now. I bow to you, darling.

I was just in your neighborhood. I bow to your, like, just prowlis with the English language. I've never seen a command such as yours, sir, and I bow. Wow. That was phenomenal. It was everything I needed to be. I felt like I was in an 80s movie. Yup.

I feel so many things. Wow. I loved it. I just loved it. I'm going to read this one called Saun Angel while rolling on E because, you know what, been there. You know what? I picked that one for you since I'm so big.

I know when you picked things for me. I've only taken X to see once just for clarification. I'm just saying it. Ah, hey, weirdos. I am so nervous writing this and I don't know why. My friend, Shoutout to Gina V, who is also a patroness, got me hooked on your show. Oh, thank you.

Thanks for being here. Thanks, Gina V, and thanks you. I've listened to every single episode, and it has helped me keep me entertained on my long drives. I need to move this closer in my face because I'm blind. That's fine. People will understand if they can't see you. Perfect.

That's very correct. I wish you can use my name, but I'm not sure if any of my co-workers listened to your show. You see, I'm a therapist who works for a nonprofit, and this story involves me rolling on E so I don't want to get in any trouble. That's very valid. I like that my job doesn't matter if I announce

naturally that I've rolled on E before. Anywho, I will keep this short. One night my friend who was also a therapist and I decided we were gonna take some E. We prepared, got some snackies snacks and some siggy sigs for the trip. I haven't smoked cigarettes and forever, but I figured we were already heading towards an unhealthy path,

so why not? We got back to the house and took them. I guess I was expecting a weed type of high, and that's not what I got. It's never what you get. By one in the morning, we were in the garage smoking and just talking, and I swear to fucking God, I saw something in white past by the corner of my eye.

I freaked the fuck out and told my friend, someone is here, did you see that? We are not alone. Girl, if I was with you, you would have been gone in a second. I would have like, you need to go home now. You need to leave. This bitch. That's amazing.

This bitch hands me a hammer. And says maybe I should go check it out. I love how she's just like, here, go check it out. Never give your friend a hammer on me. There you go. Like, all right, I guess I'll get murdered, but at least I have this hammer to defend me. I slowly creep out of the garage and check,

and of course, there was no one there. Creepy, or maybe I was just high on me. The letter E will never mean anything to me. I think the letter. I think the letter E. The letter E. Now I have always believed in ghosts and supernatural things, but never had anything like that ever happen to me. I am not religious nor spiritual person either.

However, my friend is. When I initially jumped up, she automatically checked the time and saw that it was 127. So once I've calmed down, she decided to look at the meaning of that number. I do that all the time, actually. Yeah, you're a number person. Yeah. She's into angel numbers and whatnot. Anyway, it turns out the meaning of 127 in angel numbers is let go. Why does that matter, you ask?

Literally right before I saw the angel, we were talking holy fuck. We were talking about our childhood traumas and how it affected us and our relationships and how deep down we are in pain. Oh my God, I hope that you're okay now. Right? Like I said, I am not at all spiritual person,

but holy fucking balls, that was some fucking trip. We had a bunch of other realizations and epiphanies that night, but nothing else was confirmed by a fucking angel. I don't know if you guys believe in that stuff, too, but hot damn, I do believe now. Oh, I believe in angels. Do you?

Angels, yeah, first of all. I don't necessarily not believe, I'm an open. So like I don't believe in God, but I believe in angels, which doesn't really make sense. I mean, everybody can believe what they want. I'm like, my, I believe in the spirits. Yeah, there you go. I have like a little angel deck of cards and you pull them and it like tells you like a thing. Yeah. I remember you got that. I love it. I know, right? It seems silly, especially considering I'm listening more to, sorry, it seems silly, especially considering I'm listening more to that than the therapist I've been seeing for two years. But she was a good sport, was okay with my chemical assisted therapy.

That's awesome. Anyways, I know this has gone on for way too long and I don't know if you'll ever even read this on the air. We did. But even if you read it and not on the air, it's still an honor. I love you guys. You're so cute. And keep on keeping on.

Thank you for keeping us weirdoed entertained through this shit show. Love, see money. Oh my gosh. See money. See money. What a great exocetripe. I love that one. I love that one.

That was a great story. That was just like a feel. You're like, oh, I love that. We needed that. Yeah, we did. All right, my next one I'm going to read is from Alexis. Who said that we can use their names? I was literally looking at the list that you picked and I was like, I'm gonna read that one next.

No way. Uh, this one is entitled, Subject Sounds Like a Follow-Boi Sound, which I was like, yep, yep. You know, one of my screen names in middle school was Fallout Girl 1996. Sure was. I'm sure was. All right, a listener's tale and how my apartment ghost and myself came to terms on the electric bill. Oh, you can use my name and can edit. This is a lengthy one. Sorry if there are any typos or grammatical errors. That's totally fun.

I work nights on a pediatric floor and it's 2.30 a.m. Aww. Hero, hero. Hello. Howdy weirdos. My name is Alexis. First off, I love you and I've been listening to you since the beginning. I hope you're taking care of yourselves. That's a kissy face of healing and you put a kissy face. I love your healing kissy face. I also want to say I'm a little bit of Lexus. There you go. It all started when I moved into my first department, insert, reminiscent music here. I was a nursing student at the time, which means I wasn't regular poor, I was advanced poor.

I met with the landlord, like, I met a little lady, but it was a landlord. Well, let's be inclusive. Yeah, no, I'm sorry, I'm trying. I met with the landlord to discuss rent and how it all worked. The apartment was shitty and built in the 50s,

nothing was updated, but I could barely afford it. As I agreed to the place, the landlord gently let it slip out that the previous tenant had passed away in the unit. And they're like, well, the landlord gently let it slip out that the previous tenant had passed away in the unit. I'd be like, well, everything we just talked about is no one way. By sir, he said it quietly, like he hoped I didn't hear. I just, she died in there. Bye. So I, yeah, she died. Okay, so, let's see. So I didn't say anything because I wanted to come

off as the cool tenant who wasn't a problem and that it would let it slide if I was late and that he would let it slide if I was late every now and then on rent. So my beautiful doggo, I'll attach a photo on, she did, and it's amazing. I can attest. Yes. And myself moved into this piece of shit apartment, but it was ours and I loved it. It was a two bedroom townhouse type.

There were two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs and the living room, kitchen, and dining loved it. It was a two bedroom townhouse type. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs and the living room, kitchen, and dining room downstairs. The dining room was in the front, as you came in, and my puppy would not go near it. And I had good. No, always trust the puppies. I had to carry him up every night because he was afraid to go through it to get to the stairs.

Oh! I thought, how weird! But I ignored it for the most part because we couldn't afford anything else unless you got a job. And no one would hire a 10- doggo named Bone Protector Oliver Cromwell of Tennessee. I would. I would hire him. I'll hire him to do anything. I'll hire him to travel the world with me. It's what I will do. Hired. Bone Protector Oliver Cromwell of Tennessee. Hired. Legend. Continuing on. I called

my landlord to casually mention the dead dude. Well, as casually as you can, he said that the previous tenant died in the front room, and his family found him the next morning. They thought he'd fell on his way to bed that night, sad face. Well, are I pee, Grandpa? After about a week, I started to get mail for several names of people that I had assumed for previous tenants that never changed their addresses. One name that stuck out to me was Gary.

I always said it to the side. When I would come home, it would be on the floor and some doors would be locked and others would be opened, including the door to the balcony. It was unusable. My dog couldn't even go out on it. I tried to ignore it because thinking that I had a ghost really freaked me the fuck out.

But after the first month and seeing how ridiculously expensive my electric bill was, something had to change. I tried locking the door but that didn't work. Then one day I decided that I was going to open that mail. I know, I'm a criminal. Most of it was hospital bills for cancer treatments. Oh. One was a letter from a funeral home. That was when I realized that Gary was my ghost. He was battling cancer and he passed away by himself at the bottom of the stairs. I cried because I'm an emotional asset. Me too. I too. I'm an emotional asset. I sat on the floor of the, I sat in the floor at the stairs and just talked out loud to Gary. I told him I was sorry and that I wished he would

communicate with me so I could figure out why he wanted to run up my electorate. As days went on, I casually would talk out loud and joke with Gary as if he was next to me. Even though he never said anything, never really showed himself other than that passing shadow you see out of the corner of your eye. I noticed that my door wasn't being opened as often and I thanked him for that. I then decided to be super weird. I started reading Gary's mail out loud for him daily. That is 100% something I would do. I would totally love this. I would leave positive notes around for him while I was in class or at work. You're so precious. Like encouraging ones, like the ones in offices, like the cat holding onto a branch and it

says, hang in there. Yeah, I was weird, but Gary liked it. I started leaving the electric bill out in the open so he could see the damage he had done. I know. I was guilt-tripping my ghost. Eventually my dog wasn't afraid in the front room. He even started sleeping in there. After about three months, Gary no longer opens the balcony door. He still locked doors and would occasionally open the bathroom door while I would shower that horny bastard. Oh my god. I'd be like, Gary, we need to talk about that. Gary? Getting a little spicy. Too spicy.

I lived there for two years and every day I'd talk to Gary and read him his mail. I moved because a dude, a couple of doors down for me, had gotten shot by police in a stand off. I didn't have time for another ghost. Anywho, that's my story. I hope you've enjoyed it. Keep it weird, my dudes. Oh my God, Alexis, you incredible, incredible human.

Alexis, you have joined the ranks of this wonderfully-told listener tails episode. That was, you guys are killing it. Wonderful, I did. I did. I did the next one that you have gathered for us. And I pick Roller Derby and Whitey Tities make for Great Listener Tales.

New you would. Did you pick that for me? I did it as soon as I saw the tidy Whitey's, I was like, that's an ash. That's ash. Hey, weirdos, let me just start by saying this may be kind of long.

So edit as you need to. And also please don't use my name. Got it. Cool. I come from a tiny ass town with small, with small ass-minded people, same. And since I've already know the story, I'd hate to be the lead in the Sunday paper,

but seriously, no for real. So I've been a fan of True Crime forever. My mom and grandma used to watch forensic files constantly. We all loved the narrator's voice. Fun fact, my mom used to watch that as we were falling asleep in the same room every night and it's triggering. Yeah, that's triggering for me, actually.

Yeah, I was like five. Oh, I love forensic files now. I, I was like five. I love forensic files now. I made everyone uncomfortable. I'm sorry. And also I grew up watching CSI and E2. My mom had a crush on the red hair guy. Wow. I blame my mom for constantly thinking trash bags on the side of the road, held body parts

and being afraid to ever go and walk alone. But really she probably did me a favor. So when I found YouTube girls in the morbid podcast, I was super duper happy. And now I painstakingly wait for new episodes every week. Anyways, finally to the story. So I used to work at a grocery store when I graduated high school and was trying to put myself through college, which I failed at miserably. Me too. I used to work nights and pretty much every weekend, and I was the new manager. I pretty much was just the new little bitch. I became friends with my coworkers and when there was finally someone below me in ranks

I actually got a weekend off and me and my friends decided to go to a roller derby game. That sounds like so much fun It really truly does. It does. When we got there I looked over and saw this guy who came into the store like every day He was probably in his 40s question mark and while he didn't see us I just made a mental note to tell him I saw him out the next time I saw him in the store I should probably also add that I used to a mental note to tell him, I saw him out the next time I saw him in the store. I should probably also add that I used to be a whole lot friendlier than I am now. I'm just kind of a bitch because people suck.

I mean same. I love that. I love that girl. Same. I'm still in the nice phase where I'm like, aw, I hold people. I'm going to hold next time I saw him. I was friendly and I said, oh hey, we saw you at Roller Derby Saturday. He proceeded to tell me he hadn't seen us and that he would have, of course,

said hello if he had. Little, did I fucking know this would start the shit storm that was my life? I kinda had a feeling about that. Yeah, it's not gonna go well. So a week or two goes by, while I've kept seeing this guy, we haven't said much more than,

hey, here and there until one day he came in and said, where have you been? I've been going to Roller Derby games every weekend and I haven't seen you. Oh, no. No, that's no good. No, of course, I'm like, okay, weird. He just must know someone who skates and goes anyway.

No way would he ever just go to see if I was there. So I told him I was working last few weekends and it was rare for me to ever have multiple weekends off and around. Just so you know, I am never off of work. I am not available. I am working all the time. Time goes by in this dude.

He keeps showing up everywhere. I would be stalking shelves and turn around and he'd just be standing there staring, not saying anything. I'd ask if I could help him and he'd say things like, I'm just looking. Like at the grocery store, you're just looking. You're not just browsing. He started coming in multiple times a day, making sure he was always there at least once when I worked. It kept getting weirder. He brought me flowers from his actual girlfriend's floral shop.

So weird. What? So weird. He would tell me he loved my car. He once told me that he thought where I lived was really cool. That would be it for me. I'd be like, I'm gonna stab you in the eyeballs right now. He knew my middle name, which was on Facebook. No. And one time, even wanted me to load his groceries

into his truck and would not let up until I did. No, never. I'd be like, where's the other manager? I'd be like, you're gonna murder me, sir. And I don't wanna be murdered. No, you don't need help, you're a grown man. When it was just me and him in the parking lot, he said something like, isn't this nice?

It'd be so easy to just scoop you up. Bye. Bye. So I'd be like, no, I'll make it really fucking difficult for you. And if you value your fucking nut sack, it won't be so easy. Yeah. It would be so easy for me to castrate you with my bare hands. So yeah, what about those groceries? Did you buy garlic? So needless to say after that, I was done. I would hide when he came in and until he was gone. You'd think after all the true crime I watched, I would have been smarter, but nope.

And then one night after I closed up and was home, I was on, oh no. I was unlocking the front door and looked over to the green bins down the road. Yes, I lived on a gravel road with corn and bean fields all around and no neighbors for like a mile. Of course. And there was his truck.

Nope, 9-1-1 immediately. Yep. So nearly shitting myself, putting the key in the lock, I finally got in. And once I was in, I refused to shower because we all know the naked bitch dies first. So true. Naked bitches are always dead.

So I eventually told my parents about it and my dad being the good old countryman that he is said, if he's out there again, you let me know. Yeah, dad. So a week or so goes by and there he is again, sitting there with no lights on when I get home. It's like, what the fuck are you even doing? Get a fucking hobby. It's so disgusting.

I want to punch this guy straight in the fucking Adam's apple. Your first of all, you're horrible. Second of all, you have a girlfriend, which is astounding. And third of all, like, again, get a hobby. Somebody just fucking get a hobby that's not me. Yeah, throw a punch this guy. I went in and woke up my dad and he grabbed a shotgun, which was his dad's and I'm pretty sure he's only shot once and that was a skunk and he hit the sack of it

and I was a known as skunk girl for the first time. Oh, no. The school year, and he flipped on the porch light after I'd come and told him, so bless this man because he's out there in his whitey tighties cowboy boots holding a shotgun, pointing it at these fucking green bins. Well, creeper man, the while creeper man turned his car and sped away as my dad shot in the general direction. Amazing. Needless to say, I didn't have to worry about him anymore. He stopped coming in when I was working and I didn't see his truck anymore. It was kind of

like you just disappeared. I'm not really sure if he was more scared of the shotgun or my dad and his tidy whiteies. Or whitey tidy. I would say it's a tie. Probably. But after that, I never went to another roller derby show or was overly friendly to an old man. Because I know if I would have been... I know if I would have been, they would have been picking up trash bags with my body parts on the side of the road because nobody gets lucky twice. That's right.

Keep it weird, my dudes, but not so weird. You're overly nice to a customer and you end up with a stalker and your dad goes on the porch in his whitey tighties. Amazing. Wow, that was great. I was so terrified of that one. I was like, no, I don't love this. Because it's like, fuck off.

I was making a nice TV view. I did not love this. Because it's like, fuck off. I was giving it a nice TV view. I did not like you. So I think we'll end there because that's a terrifying story to leave you all with nightmares about. But a grandeur of that girl's dad and his whiteie tighties with a shotgun and cowboy boots. I feel like I always say tidy whiteies. I say tidy whiteies too. Do you?

Is it like a thing? I don't know. Is it a original thing? Somebody tell me. Do you say white-nighties? Or tidy whiteies? Tell us. I like both.

I like both. And you know what? These listener tales were exactly what we needed today. They were. They were phenomenal. And the reason we're stopping here is because a couple of those were kind of long. So, you know. Yeah, long and the best sweat.

Normally we have like more, but I feel like quality over quantity. Yes. I mean, I love all of your stories, but John, you took the cake today. John, I will say you pulled, you pulled ahead and a post-of-the-fone. You took the actual cake. Because that was just so good, but you all killed it.

Thank you so much for sending these in. We have a ton more and keep sending them because we want to do this forever. And forever. And ever and ever. For eternity. So continue to send them in. Make sure you put the subject line listener tail

And then some fun subject because it always grabs my attention when it's a fun subject Same you can send it to morbidpodcast at gmail.com And you should definitely in the meantime follow us on Instagram at morbidpodcast Hit us up on Twitter a morbidpodcast send us a gmail a listener tail and you say listener tail in the subject line. Again, morbid podcast at gmail.com. And also buy our merch at shop.morbidpodcast.com. Yes, do it. We hope you keep listening.

And we hope you. Keep it! We're not so weird that you're in the orange grove and then Charlie Manson is like, hey, what's up? I'm literally right here right now and I'm gonna shoot you because I got mad at your grip and not so weird that you take it in

and you're like, oh my God, gonna be such a good trip and then you see an angel but it seems like you kind of need to see an angel so I'm pretty happy for you about that. Not so weird that everything sounds like a follow-up by song and like your dog can't go in the front room but like keep it so weird that you leave Gary notes because that's pretty sweet of you

and like I really enjoyed that. Definitely not so weird that you're house sitting and like somebody you know, like sits on you and definitely not so weird that some ladies looking at you from the bathroom because you're just trying to break in and like live in the pool and just like live your best frickin life And that's so weird that you say hi to an old man And he's like I love you be my roller derby queen

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