Morbid - Listener Tales 22

Episode Date: December 13, 2020

December’s listener tales are coming in hot, weirdos! You guys are so good at these and have us cracking up as usual. We’re talking about our powers of summoning dead grandmas, christmas decorations from murderers and being shot in the right tit!! Grab a holiday blanket, some hot cocoa and also your butt because we’re about to dive in! As always, thank you to our sponsors,  BestFiends: Download Best Fiends FREE today on the Apple App Store or Google Play. That’s FRIENDS without the R – Best Fiends! Embark: Go to Embarkvet.com now to get free shipping and save $50 off your Embark Breed and Health Kit with Promo code MORBID. HelloFresh: Go to HelloFresh.com/80morbid and use code 80morbid to get $80 off including free shipping! BetterHelp: Special offer for Morbid listeners get 10% off your first month at betterhelp.com/Morbid 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 weirdo, I'm Ash. And I'm Elena. This is morbid and this is morbid. There you go. The Listener Tales Edition December Listener Tales, Common Out You Live. It's a holiday Listener Tales episode. Because my life is so long. The holiday season, boopie do.

I feel like every time we do Listener Tales lately, we're just like super slap happy. I feel like that's why we do them when we do them. Because I think that was such a deep breath. You were like, I feel like that's why we do some. Because it was almost a yawn that it just went a different direction. How big are your lungs?

I don't know, they're pretty big. I can't, sorry. I didn't get a good breath then. All right, so yeah, I feel like whenever we do a list in our tails episode, we have to be in this food. Yeah, otherwise it's all lost. It ain't it. It's just not how it's supposed.

So it's like the universe just makes it all work. It does. It's like slap-hapy list in our tails. Boom. Boom. We're here. I can breathe now. I took a deep breath.

So we're here. I don't think we do much business on a list in our tails episode. I don't think we do much business on a listener tales episode. I think we just dive right in. No. One thing I just wanted to, sorry, you can't there. And I won't go too far into it because I actually won't think we should do like a full on episode about it. Oh, you're bringing this to the table. And I don't even know what it is. You'll agree. Don't worry. The only reason I said it without your knowledge

first hand was because I know you will agree with me. Oh, no, and I didn't even know what it is. You'll agree. Don't worry, the only reason I said it without your knowledge for a stand was because I know you will agree with me. Oh no, and I didn't mean that. No, I know I'm just kidding. But, I know I'm kidding, shut up. I know I'm kidding, shut the fuck up. Shut up. The 340 cipher from the zodiac killer has been solved.

Oh, I know, I watched a whole video on that last night. This is crazy. Oh, I know. I watched a whole video on that last night. This is crazy. That software is insane. Unreal, and it's like a trio of code breakers that finally did it. It's unbelievable. Do you think when he finished, he was like, by God, I've cracked the code! I have done it!

Well, listen, it's, I'm like, listen. Listen up. Listen to me. It's David Ornchak, a software developer in Virginia. Jarul Van, I'm so sorry, Ike. I'm gonna go with a Belgian computer programmer and Sam Blake, an Australian mathematician who did it. Oh my goodness, we love Australia.

Put these three great minds together and look what just happened. Scientists are wild. I mean, he did promise to name himself in that cipher, and then he just went ahead and bullshit at all of us and didn't name himself in that cipher. Because he didn't think we'd ever solve it. But now we got more to work with.

And now that they've solved this cipher, perhaps they can use the information that they got from this to solve this cipher to solve other ciphers. Perhaps. Cipher. When you said perhaps they could use that. I like the work. I just see how I feel. I could see your face. I got some face to you a lot too. You are. I could see

your face when I said perhaps. You were like, oh, I was lulling. Oh, okay. Oh, are we Hwini toy? But this is big news. It's very exciting. And we've been meaning to cover this, Odea Killer, but it's one of those real heavy ones. Yeah. Real big ones that will take several episodes and you know we spread those out. So that's crazy. I know that was wild. I got like so many Twitter, uh, at- So many Twitter's, so many tweets at me.

So many people are twittering at me just talking about it. So many people are just tweeting. So that was exciting. And we'll definitely talk about it more in the main episode, but this is a listener tails episode. Let's get it. It's about you. It's by you. It's for you. About you by you for you from you and all about you. There you go. So let's start and this one has a kind of theme to it. Yeah, we tried to do a holiday theme. Try to do some Christmas holiday theme to it, but you know, we'll see if it works out.

Yeah, we tried to find some Hanukkah stories and there weren't any. Yeah, no Hanukkah stories, just people wishing us a happy Hanukkah. So happy Hanukkah, everybody. Happy Hanukkah. Because it is Hanukkah right now. It is. It is. Happy Hanukkah. And our best friend Debbie celebrates Hanukkah. We love Debbie.

Deb, hi. How you doing, Debbie? Happy Hanukkah. So the first listener tale that we're going to talk about is named an almost Christmas kidnapping. Root Root. Almost. But not at war. It wasn't.

All right, it says hi, Ash and Alaina. My name is Kiara, and thank you for telling me how to pronounce that, because it's spelled Chiara. And I definitely would have said that had I read it. There you go without a pronunciation code. And I'm a relatively new fan. Welcome. You can use my name as any others

and street names are being omitted for the sake of Peeps privacy. Thank you for that. I started listening at the beginning of COVID and honestly I'm mad at myself for sleeping on y'all for so long. Oh my god It's cool. We're here. We're gonna be here for a while. Hope so. My ex had tried to get me to listen But I thought I hated true crime until I caved and started listening as a way to kill commute time, three shouts for essential workers. What the hell? Y'all have a way of turning spupi to comedy without overlooking the important parts like victim stories.

Thank you so much for getting us. Well, I know, thank you. I love when people get us. Anyway, this is a story about how I pretended to be a badass while secretly pissing my pants. Hold on to your butts, y'all. I'm so excited right now. I should purpose this by saying I grew up in the biggest sex trafficking city in the country, Portland, Oregon. This is where my story takes place, a city known for its smuggling

in the Shanghai tunnels. Oh, that's a crazy, like story, the Shanghai tunnels. Unfortunately, the trafficking trade thrives in the city of roses to this day. We had an entire after-school club dedicated to spreading awareness of sex trafficking, as well as John Malini-style assemblies at least once every single school year. Due to that, I had always been taught very strict, stranger, danger rules. And the very first one is beware strangers in large, nondescript vehicles. Yes, absolutely. It's a very solid point. It was December 2013, and I was a sophomore in high school.

But at the time, I thought I was hot shit. I had grown up watching 90s cult TV shows like Xena Warrior Princess and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Hey, Oooo. Yes. I thought I could take on any one and anything. Spoiler, I can't. A lot of people can't.

We all try though. Every holiday, I would find time to volunteer in somewhere and other. Good for you. I love that. And this season was no different. In high school, there were boundless opportunities and more so when you're part of a club.

So of course, I found myself chilling with fellow weirdos in the drama club. Say you're speaking to Elena. Say you just mentioned Buffy and drama club. I'm with you. I should have just addressed it to Elena. This year, a few of us had volunteered to be elves in a last minute throne together.

Santa's workshop being held in one of the elementary schools. Oh, complete with baking various Christmas treats all morning, gilding glitter covered seven year olds through arts or gilding guiding. I was wondering why you went back. Getting a guild the seven year olds. All right, guiding glitter covered seven year olds through arts and crafts and Standing vacantly next to Santa who smelled a little too much like mouthwash. Uh-oh. Santa was loaded spoiler alert as he listened to kids talked about what they wanted and cleaning it all up when it was done, good for you, man.

When it was all over and done with, everyone was understandably exhausted, including the girl that had picked me out from my house and agreed to drive me home. The elementary school we were at was four miles from my home. It was 30 degrees Fahrenheit out, and at the time, the only car my family had was currently at work with my dad, so I had begged her to take me at least part way, which she did after about 10 minutes

of trying to find me another ride and five minutes of guilt tripping. Okay, hold on, because we all know that girl in high school. I hate that girl. I have her license and she's like, but I need gas money. And she's always in the guilt trip is the thing that kills me the most. It's the like, well, I mean. You live in the total opposite direction. Like, I can totally do that, but like, you do live all the way over it,

but it's fine. Yeah, it's really fine. Like, I do only have like a quarter tank, but like, it's fine. I guess I can. It's fine. It's not fine. It's like, shut up, Cheryl.

Brenda, it's not fine. Bring me home. Just say it's not fine, but give me the fucking ride. Not all of our daddies will buy us a fucking BMW when we get our license, okay Cheryl? Drop me a Cheryl. Drop me a Cheryl. So yeah, she got me about a half mile away from my house before dropping me off at the edge of my middle to low class suburban neighborhood.

Why did she even do that? Yeah, that's just like bitchy. That's dickish. She just drive me in side. Yeah, thank you. A neighborhood where you could find needles and used condoms little ring the- little ring the gutters. Oh, good.

Take that. About two blocks away was a forested park, which was frequently home to houseless people, trying to escape the weather, and urban coyotes that had been drawn from the surrounding forested hills by the delicious garbage that people just tossed on the ground. You know, a wonderful area to raise a family. It sounds much like the town I grew up in.

Woof! When I had been getting ready that morning, I had thought I would have a ride to and from the event. So of course, stupid teenage me had foregone the heavy coat in favor of a fun ugly Christmas sweater, despite it being the middle of December in the Pacific Northwest. A.K.A. fucking cold. To distract myself from Jack Frost biting all of my, exposed skin and seeping through the thin layer of clothing I had on, I put in my headphones and blared Evan Essence while I pulled the ugly sweater around myself and shoved my hands as deep into the tiny pockets of my skinny jeans

that they could go and started walking. This sounds amazing. It does. I was about halfway through imagining my own music video to the... Oh, you honestly stopped speaking to me. I know. Stop speaking to me. I was about halfway through imagining my own music video to the tune of lithium.

And based on my own teenage drama, when an old rusty white Chevy passed me, slowed down, turned around and someone's driveway, and pulled up, before stopping three feet away from me. Because I was so deep in my melodramatic day dreaming, I didn't notice until he had rolled down his window and started waving at me. Immediately I could tell something was off about him. May I help you? I'd like to think at that moment I was channeling my girl's Buffy and Zina, but in reality,

my voice was probably shaking like a tambourine. This was Portland. Creepy guys don't just drive up to teenagers without something yucky going through their minds. Yeah, it's no lie that I developed before other girls. It used to be a game to see if I could go into the mini-Mart and buy cigarettes without getting carted. And we used to the way that this used Jim's sock was looking at me. That's terrible. I know, I hate that. It was easy to see that he wasn't making eye contact for the first few seconds of our interaction.

Oh, one of... yeah, that makes me want to throw up. What freaked me out even more was before answering my question, he swung open the passenger's side door, the one that was facing me. Do you know where a street name is? Nope. I kept my eyes on him as I pulled out my phone to not only stop the music, but to pull up the text to my mom, and in true teen fashion, started texting without looking at the screen. Good job. Yeah.

That's smart. Alright, so I just lost my place. Despite my PTSD unrelated to the story and memory problems, I can still remember the bright street light illuminating the slimy human booger. Yeah. Head to toe, he was covered in grime. As if he had just gotten off a construction site,

a black trucker hat covered thin hair that was matted to his forehead. Ugh. And five o'clock stubble had turned his face into a patchy Picasso of dirt and hair fuzz. Wow, that was a beautiful sentence, but also a foul sentence. The vision you just painted. His white shirt and black work pants looked as if they had been pulled out of a wood chip. Absolutely covered in holes.

The smell of sweat and dirt wafting from his car. Ew. I'm out. I'm out. I hate it. I'm out. The'm out. I hate it. I'm out. The question struck me as odd. The street he was asking for was a major street,

when almost everyone knows, and literally only one right turn from where we were. Add in the fact that this was still well within the era of technology, he definitely could have pulled up a map on his cell phone. Yeah, only it's 2013. No one's asking you where things are anymore. Despite this and my better judgment, I answered him. As loud as I could, I told him to drive down the block and take a right, but apparently my directions weren't clear enough.

He kept asking me to repeat myself because he couldn't hear. And I tried multiple times, but each time he would motion like he couldn't hear me, then back and me closer with a wave of sand. I stood my ground and projected with all I had. Good. After a few rounds of back and forth, he started to crawl over the center console tour or the door he had opened. What? It took a moment to realize what was happening, but when it did, when I did, I

booked it. Looking back only long enough to text my mom the first four letters of the license plate. Little did this man know about my years of playing forward, playing forward for my district soccer club. And for you, seriously. Your girl ran a quarter of a mile in less than a minute. Straight into the arms of my mom, who had gotten a jumbled mess of text along with the lines of man, white, truck, Chevy, black hat, beard, and the first four digits of license plate. Good for man, white, truck, Chevy, black hat, beard, and the first four digits

of license plate. Good for you, but holy shit, I would lose my mind as a mom. It's best your mom. Seriously. I knew it at that moment that she had been making me watch CSI and CIS and forensic files all my life for my own good. That's right. Together we called the cops and a very nice lady showed up to take my statement.

I'll never forget how she calmed me down in the moment by telling me I had done everything exactly right, as you do when you have a teenager who is prone to panic attacks on the edge of hyperventilating while practically clinging to her mother like a toddler. When the cop left, my mom gave me my very first alcoholic drink ever. A moment like combination of lemon, shallow, and diet coke to settle my nerves and put me to sleep. The next school day, I got called out of my second period English class to the principal's office. When I got there, my principal was there, along with the uniformed cop assigned to my school. Yay, public school.

Another girl from my class in a detective turns out Chevy guy had done this a couple of times to a couple girls in the surrounding school districts, and is the suspect in a disappearance of one girl from a couple school districts over. I was asked to give my statement again, as well as a description of the guy, that was the last I heard of any progress in this case. This isn't my only scary story, and maybe someday I'll get enough brain cells together to type out another one. But for now, thank you so much for reading my story and I hope you keep it weird. But not so weird that you dress up as Santa's elf. Only be dropped off a half a mile away from your home.

We're a creepy guy and a truck tries to kidnap you. Bye! Much love, Kiara. Wow. Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow. That's just everybody's nightmare. So that's fun. That's terrifying. That's an absolute fucking nightmare. In Kiarra, you deserve a pat on the back when pandemic is over. I would happily give you one. Right now I'll give you an air pat.

Air pat. Because you did everything right and your mom is a smart mom for teaching that stuff. Yeah, serious. I'm proud of both of you. I'm so proud of this. Kiarra and Kiarra's mom for teaching that stuff. Yeah, serious. So I'm proud of both of you. I'm so proud of this. Kiara and Kiara's mom, good for you. All right, my next one is called,

do you save the boobies or do the boobies save you? Okay. I picked this one. I was gonna say Alina picked me, so I haven't read them yet. I'm very excited. This is actually perfect for you. Oh good, it's like that one was perfect for you.

Now this is mine. All right, sup y'all. Already perfect for you. Oh good, it's like that one was perfect for you. Now this is mine. All right, sup y'all. Already perfect for me. I hope both of you lovely ladies are holding on tight to your butts and boobs for this Lissair Tale. Okay, I'd like to start by clarifying that this technically isn't even my story at all. This is all about my great aunt Jane,

not her real name though. I doubt she and her crew listen to anything other than NPR. In a story of how she bad-assed her way out of literally any weirdo's worst nightmare when she was in her 20s. First off, I want to paint you a picture of good old Jane. You're girl? This is why it's perfect for you.

Okay. Alright, let's see. You're girl was in her 20s during the mid 60s. And was grabbing the free loving pot smoking bell bottom, wearing Jefferson airplane, jamming Arab by the balls. You know, I'm still doing that. You are. I'm still doing that. I'm still doing that.

Some of her most notable shenanigans include, but aren't limited to, yeah, taking random cross-country road trips with her boyfriend and their VW van, attending Marty Grah, yearly, Nola homies, what up with my grandma, and my personal favorite decorating the inside of an older refrigerator box with glow-in-the-dark stars and Christmas lights to create the utmost chillest hot box ever to exist. Seriously, flower child to the max. See, perfect. Wow, perfect for you. My sister and I have always loved to hear her hippie stories when we'd visit her. She'd always have a sweet smile on her face, as she recalled her glory days of the most vivid detail

possible, which is why when she dropped her darkest fuck by contrast survival story for us, we couldn't help but listen and almost collectively shit ourselves. It's really scary. Even though she told us this story more than 10 years ago, I still can't shake every single detail because it scared me so fucking much. I'll try my best to do it justice. Jane was about in her mid-20s when it went down. She had two bedroom apartment that she shared with a roommate just outside of Knoxville, Tennessee. One particular night, the roommate was out with friends while Jane stayed home. She did the typical stuff, watched some TV, probably enjoyed a couple of bongrips, yes. Before donning one of these old-fashioned 90s. Yes. Didn't lock the door to the apartment.

Hello, 60s and headed to bed. That's so scary. It's so 60s. It's so funny. I had to run to my apartment for something super fast the other day, and I locked my door, and I was in my apartment for literally like three minutes. Yeah, but I locked my door.

Okay, so scary. She was asleep for a couple hours before she heard some shuffling in the living room. She assumed it was her roommate so she didn't pay any mind. She was about to fall back to sleep before she realized she heard two sets of footsteps and two male voices. Immediately, Jane's eyes shot open, knowing something wasn't right. She didn't know if she should pretend to stay asleep or get up. They didn't have any weapons in the house once again, 60s, so she knew her options were

hell of fucking limited. Before she could make a decision, her bedroom door swung open and the two men barged in. Oh my goodness. Jane recalls the rest of this story through in... uh, vacillating. Yeah, vacillating bits of blurred violence and unsettling clarity. The two men yanked her from bed with no warning and brought her to her feet. She shouted at them, asking what they wanted, but they ignored her and proceeded with whatever mother fuckerly plan they had.

As she stood and fought against them, one man, huge trigger, and every fucking hair on your entire body will stand up warning. Started fiddling with the hem of my aunt's night gown. Oh no. The other man calmly, awfully told him, stop, that's for later. Oh! And she literally wrote like screams forever.

She wrote screams forever. Oh, isn't that horrific? Oh my god. That's for later? No, it's not. And you'd be like, what if that's for later, what the fuck is right now? Right? Like, isn't that horrific? Oh my god. That's for later. No, it's not. And you'd be like, what if that's for later, what the fuck is right now? Right? Like what's gonna happen? Oh my god. Any Hoosie, after that, they drag Aunt Jane into the living room and toward the front door. And that's when

she decided that she has had it. This woman followed a strict do do no harm, take no shit, create her entire life. And she wasn't about to stop now. She started flailing with all the strengths she had to escape the men's grips on her, screaming all the while. When she succeeded, she fucking bolted to the phone. Why not to the front door? She doesn't know either. It's scary. When she heard a gunshot.

Her immediate thought was to duck, so she landed straight down on her stomach. As soon as she did, though, she felt a searing pain in her right boob. Oh my goodness. Yes. That's right. The bullet had gone the way she wrote this. She said, that's right. The bullet done got her right in the tit. It's so the bullet that got her right in the tube. Her first thought was to get back up and get help. Worried she'd bleed out, but then she realized she had an opportunity on her hands when she heard one of them say,

fuck, what did you do? Jane had a stroke of genius. The man without the gun thought the trigger man had killed her. So fuck it, she'd say, she'd stay dead. She possum- She possummed herself like no other possum has done before. She stayed laying limp and slowed her breathing as much as possible.

She was terrified they come check on her and see that she was still alive. But before she knew it, she heard their footsteps recede out of the apartment. She stayed still for about five more minutes before deciding the two cock, the two cock goblins were coming back. She then crawled the rest of the way to the phone to call 911 before slipping in and out of consciousness because of the blood loss. Oh my god, like Jane.

What a great. Jane. Thankfully, she was brought back to the hospital soon after and the doctors concluded that there was minimal damage both to her boob and the rest of her body. So that's good In fact the bullet had just grazed the breast and there wasn't even any Listen, I'm not gonna read it. It wasn't any shrapnel to be extracted from her tissue Even though my aunt Jane was thrilled to be alive, she said, and I quote, I was a little sad because I knew I'd have a scar and I always prided myself on having great breasts. Because priorities, wow, this is incredible.

To this day, Aunt Jane is still a badass. I love it. But by helping refugee communities in her hometown through ESL classes by advocating for those less fortunate. Oh. Serious. Great idea, James. Seriously.

It's crazy to think that her right boob is to thank for all the good she's done for the swirls. Yes, thank goodness for it. I know. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. I did. We did. Because I'm still haunted by it, especially

because I have small boobs, and I'm worried if this happened to me. I'd be fucking worked. Same girl, same. I'd be gone. I'd be done for it. I could live like three more days. I'd be like I think I'll die another day It's not my time to go Which is being done like you could probably shoot me three times on the tip and I'd live I wouldn't even feel it Anyways, so I'm about my 10th We would have two different outcomes.

I want to thank Gelfa for making quality shit. My boyfriend is the one who put me on Tiel's podcast with your deep-dummer dive and we love Jelsense. In fact, I need y'all to know that anytime we're out of friends house and we're playing a game that requires an alias or game or tag, my boyfriend always infallibly, infallibly, it calls himself beefy Jeffers.

Yes! See the attached name tag for proof. Love you guys and keep it weird, but that's aware that you keep your door unlocked. All namebly, bimbley, and almost get deducted and then thwart by abduction by using your voluptuous boobs to save your life and cry about having a scar, even though that scar is what makes your bad ass.

The makes your the baddest of asses. Okay, bye. Hello, my name is B. Jeffers. Ah, shit, that's the photo. And it's everything right in the world. B. Fee, J. Doll, God's everything right here, bro. 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. It's time to enter the Buffyverse. Some of you avid morbid listeners already know what we've gotten store. Hey, Lennon. Join us as we sway our way through Buffy's drama, action, and romance. Episode by episodes. Lacey, follow the re-watcher Buffy the drama, action, and romance. Episode by Episode Slacy.

Follow the rewatcher of Buffy the Vampire Slayer wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen early and add free on the biggest controversies in U.S. history. Presidential lies, environmental disasters, corporate fraud. In our newest series, we look at the Kids for Cash scandal, a story about corruption inside America's system of juvenile justice. In Northeastern Pennsylvania, residents had begun noticing an alarming trend. Children were being sent away to jail in high numbers, and often for committing only minor offenses. The FBI began looking at two local judges, and when the full picture

emerged, it made national headlines. The judges were earning a fortune, carrying out a brazen criminal scheme, one that would shatter the lives of countless children, and force a heated debate about punishment, an America's criminal justice system. Follow American scandal wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad free on the Amazon music or Wonder App. Oh man that was honest. Thank you. Wow I love to that. Thank you for bringing that into my life. From beginning to end that was everything I needed. And great aren't Jane. What a badass bitch. Just rocking' it right up until now. Oh my God.

I'm glad you told us to hold onto our booze-inner boobies. It was so funny. Oh man. Okay, so let's move on from that hilarious one. That harrowing tail. That was incredible. She won and titled, nothing says Christmas like robbery and Nazi ghosts.

Nothing does. Nothing does. I've always said that. Says hello, Ashina Lena. Enjoy this weird, disjointed story about a crazy apartment building in Belgium. Oh yes, we are about to get international up in this pitch. Wow, that was, I always say incredible. I need another one. It was incredible. But it was. It was a good intro. My parents used to work for the state department, which means we moved around a lot. Their last assignment was in Belgium.

So I went to Europe for winter break and stuffed myself with fries, chocolate and beer for five weeks while trying to get my mental health in order to survive another fucking semester at college, a nameless little liberal arts consortium in California, fuck that place. Alright, you tell ya. That sounds awesome. Like fries, chocolate and beer, I'm in. I am so in. Regardless, it was dope. As a big fucking nerd, I love going to all the museums and learning about the history all around me.

I love that. I mean, you have to do that if you're in Belgium. Oh, yeah. Come on, you can't go to Europe without being a history nerd. No. Quite literally, as it turns out, when my parents first moved into the apartment, we were informed the top three floors were briefly occupied by the Nazis during the war.

OK, uncomfortable. But that wasn't our future apartment, so not my circus, not my monkey. However, that was fucking lie. Insert more in meme here. That was a lot of fun. Turns out, our very apartment where I watched Buffy reruns, it's very clear that you picked these. You're all here for me. You are all here for me. So there are very apartment where I watched Buffy reruns

and yelled at my little brother because I literally did all his housework while he acted like a jackass. And Kay was a teenage boy, was occupied by the mother fucking SS. Yeah, those evil bastards. More notably, one of those shit wipes was one of Hitler's close buddies, Herman Goring. Oh my God. I will now refer to as cock wobbles, Van Fuckface.

Love it. Yeah. Cock wobbles, Van Fuckface's old office, where he got the idea to, oh, I don't know, commit genocide, my bedroom. What? Yikes. Oh my God.

Luckily, a Belgian fighter pilot went rogue and bombed the ever-loving fuck out of the building during the war and took out most of those fucking skid marks, so tragically did not get cockwobbles, man, fuckface. But that meant a whole bunch of Nazis died in our building. Oh. I'm stressed out. By a small miracle, we had no spookies in our apartment. That's crazy.

But the basement was another matter entirely. Each apartment in the building had a small wine cellar in the basement because Europe. These cellars had been originally used as a jail to house resistance fighters and interrogate them. And that's in quotes. Yikes. There is writing on the wall in French and Flemish that says things like I haven't had water in three days tell my wife I love her. Oh, you know casual nightmare fuel. I went down there regularly since we used since we used it as a pantry and

He hated every moment. Imagine stepping off an ancient elevator into a dank dark room with exposed rock walls Enough to call a new barrage? Well, more than enough. Well, how about how, without fail, machinery would turn on, and random lights would go on and off every time I went down there, no matter what time of day. For a sane person, yeah, that's more than planning to piece the fuck out. But I am a fat ass.

Love ships. Who loves ships, so I persevered. I feel you, I will do a lot for food. I'll be able to. However, the more times I went down, the more things started to escalate. I would hear footsteps in the pitch black, despite there being only one route to egress

and no one else down there. However, the final straw was, as I was about to enter our wine cellar, I felt an evil presence behind me and heard fucking keys jangling. When I tell you I flew out of that hellhole, I almost mean it literally. After that, I refused to return

and maybe my dad kept me all the stuff. He claimed to not believe in ghosts, but he got mad at me every time. Eventually, I just threatened to stop cooking unless someone else got the damn pasta from the basement So that's the ghost now on to the bot robbers our last Christmas there my mom started noticing broken locks in the basement That's terrible. Yeah, no thanks. We hate that my first thought was shit something got out But we realized pretty quickly a bunch of bitches with fake fur and bad butt-j- Buh. Buh.

Buh. It's fake fur. Buh. What the fuck? I just sat a roll with it. With fake fur and bad die jobs, we're coming and robbing all the old people in our building. Oh. It's fucking rude to steal.

Don't make it worse by dressing like you're auditioning for the porn version of Ocean's 8, you ding-dong bitches. Oh, my Lanta, I love you so much. We got real fed up by this. One moment my mom got a call from our Italian neighbor. Our very old, very proper French neighbors upstairs heard someone trying to break into their front door while they slept. They called our Italian neighbor who called the Americans, as she called us, to try and help since we all act like fucking Rambo of... ...tap- ...tap-

...so they're fucking Italians, called the French lady, who called the Americans to try to help, since we all act like fucking Rambo evidently. I mean in at the truth it is. Well my dad and I are law enforcement. My mom is an ex-private investigator and my little brother is full of T-nags. So we all grab improvised weapons. Baseball bat, kitchen knives, fire poker, and hauled ass upstairs to beat the daylight side of these 80s music video rejects.

We unfortunately, fortunately, just missed them, but all fanned out and searched the poor 80 year old couple's apartment. Evidently, the thieves got a glimpse of us and we scared them so bad they never came back. Murca. That's my dumb story. Sometime I'll tell you all about the other haunted houses we've lived in because fuck me, right? Love you, ladies.

Keep it weird. Your pal, Grace. Grace, I'm obsessed with you. That's hilarious. I just love that they're like the Americans. Because we're all ramp up. That's what those motherfuckers up there. Oh, man.

Oh, Marca, that's hilarious. Thank you so much, Grace. Oh, that was awesome. So, please send those other ones because you're hilarious. All right.ca, that's hilarious. Thank you so much, Grace. Oh, that was a best. Please send those other ones because you're hilarious. All right, that was a good one. It was so good. This next one for me is called Your Show Summoned My Dead Grandma.

Got the best. And the way I got one here. I want to hear this. All right, hi, ladies. I recently found your podcast a few weeks ago and have finished my way well into the 100-somethings. Give me a week and I'll be caught up.

LOL. That's crazy. You're good. I'd like to thank you guys for being my soul form of socialization. Or well, one of the only things that feels like conversation to me as I decided it was a fun idea to move states for grad school in the middle of a pandemic and live alone with my dog. Oh, I love that. You guys are our only form of socialization too, so there's any other reacts actually. Needless to say, your guys' voices are almost constantly in the background. As I walk my dog, do my homework, and go into my research lab to visit my 5th,

my thousand fruit flies I like to call my children. Brooke, you're all like really speaking to me. I know, you really are. Continuing on the topic of your podcast, almost constantly playing as I do daily activities, it brings me into my story, and it may have you guys questioning how in the sweet hell an episode of your podcast from over a year ago summoned my dead grandma. I will preface this point by saying I didn't see my grandma or any ghost.

This was more of a sign type of spirit visit. So I understand if it's not exciting enough to fully read on the podcast, or if you'd like to skip ahead since it's painfully long, feel free. Never. Never. So basically, I'll start with a little of a backstory. My grandma passed away my sophomore year of college in 2018 after living a full loving life with family at her side at the age of 90-1. Wow, go grandma! It was one of my first experiences of facing a family member's death while old enough to grasp the concept of it. I think that is partially why she's the only deceased grandparent that ever visits me. Now I am the last thing from a medium or anything. I just know my grandma has visited me various times and dreams. And I never dream I've

had about her has been when I'm struggling with something in life and is always way too relevant and lines up a bit too much for what seems like a dream or coincidence. Not to mention I rarely ever remember my dreams and if I do they're usually nonsense, but the dreams about my grandma are always very clear and I always remember them fully. Anyways, each of those dreams always leaves me feeling reassured and loved. I love that. I love that. And I totally believe in that. This weekend was the first time I think she's visited me to my knowledge while I was awake. It was a wild quarantine Saturday night, and I was embroidering a Christmas snowman while listening to the podcast and sipping, unfortunately, on a black cherry white claw.

Wow. Actually, black cherry is my favorite flavor of white claw. Wow. I'm not really a big cloth fan though. Wow. While I may sound like a fully-fledged elder because of those activities, I do want to clarify that I'm only 22, but truly a crabby old man at heart. I feel that. Yes, you do. I had decided to do the snowman embroidery because it made me think of my grandma.

She was an avid collector of snowman figurines. Oh my god. And was fantastic at embroidery. That's like the quintessential old lady. I love her, I love her. She's such a grandma. The old bird had better eyesight than me when she died, so she was able to embroider very far into her life. She also enjoyed her drinking.

Okay. Although I did make a joke to my sisters that I was doing all of grandma's favorite things, she was probably shaking in her ashes that I had lost the redacted last name, Family Tolerance, because I was drunk off two white claws. quarantine has obliterated any ability of mine to hold alcohol. I think everybody's on that that wavelength either that are your building or tolerance. That's very true. That's going one of two ways to say. So I was

honestly thriving as I tipped sleets did my snowman embroidery and was listening to your podcast my faith Well, thank you. I was eager eagerly listening along as you guys were talking about the spooky spooky Lizzy boredom house The fact that I was listening to an episode where you guys were deaf in a haunted house seems very relevant to me After what was about to happen as Alaina started talking about the birth of good old Lizbeth Alaina read off Lizzie's older sister's full name, Emma Lennora Borden. I dropped my little embroidery hoop into my lap and froze because I had just heard my grandmother's name come out of your mouth. Her name was Lennora. For a split second I was about to be like, oh weird coincidence, but oh well that's neat. But then both of you paused to comment on Emma's middle name and how the name Lenora was so pretty.

Oh my god. I remember that. Yeah. I snatched my phone up so fast because, uh, no, I snatched my phone up so fast to pause the podcast that I literally could have pulled to thumb muscle. It honestly seemed like so many things lining up that it was far too much to be just a coincidence. I had made an earlier joke about doing all my grama's favorite hobbies, and you guys didn't just say the name Lenora on the podcast. You paused to

comment on the name itself while chilling in a haunted house. And to me, that was a sign that made me realize it wasn't all just a ton of fun coincidences, but a sign that my grandma was with me. Oh, I love this. I do too. I know it seems like a really small detail for me to pick up on and conclude my grandma was here, but it just seems like two blaring of, yeah, two blaring of details to not be some kind of sign for my grandma. Every winded the conversation to listen to you guys say her name again and to stop to talk about it. And while I had been anxious, while I had been an anxious depressed mess all week. Hearing this and realizing my grandma was prob chillin' on the other side of the couch or whatever,

or whatever it is, spirit, what, hold on. Whatever it is, spirits do. Okay, whatever it is spirits do, made me instantly feel better and so happy I wanted to cry. I called my dad so fast to tell him about his mom and say hi after recounting the story. He took a couple minutes talking about

how much he loves the podcast. I recommended it to my whole family. And we're all hooked. I love that. But yeah, that's the story. He took a couple minutes talking about how much he loves the podcast. I recommended it to my whole family. I love that. But yeah, that's the story. I'm sorry, it wasn't a good spooky spooky of some foggy ghost of a white lady in a white dress standing outside my window or something equally as terrifying. But I do believe you guys in that episode were assigned to me by my grandma, who knew I was going through at TM. And was trying to tell me she was right by my side, keeping it fat and sass, as she always said. Yes! And things are all going to work out and be okay in the end.

Thank you for reading and remember to keep it weird, but not so weird that you have the same hobbies as your 91-year-old grandma while you were at the age of 22. But you know what, keep it that weird, totally keep it weird. Because that's amazing. That was incredible. I love that so much. Thanks for sending that. Thank you so much.

I love the ones where the dead relatives come back. We love it when we summon ghosts. It's fun. As you know, I kind of consider Baba to be one of my best friends. Absolutely, we all do. Yeah, she's like my family, and I spend a lot of time with her every single day. So that's why I was so happy when you did the embark, breed, and health DNA kit, because I was like, oh my god, now we know all about Baba's family. We love it because we love Baba so much, we want to love her genes as well.

We do, and then I said to myself, oh my gosh, Annie's brother just got a new dog. Maybe for Christmas, I could get them the Embark breed and health kit. Hope they're not listening. I hope not, either. Well, listen to this from breed traits to genetic risk factors for health conditions. Embark provides the resources to help you and your vet best tailor care for your dog specific needs. It's developed by PhDs and veterinarians, and BARK provides the most accurate and comprehensive breed identification and genetic health results, and can identify over 350 breeds, types, and varieties, and they're not done yet. They can also screen for over 190 genetic health conditions to help your vet and you provide the best medical care for your dog.

This is a very sad thing. Over 50% of dogs are either at risk or a carrier of a genetic disease, whether they're pure bread or mixed breed. Annembar can give you a leg up, but um, p, p, when it comes to knowing their health history. You can even learn your dog's ancestry back to their great-grandparents and match with your dog's relatives. The cutest.

I love that. It's like a little 23 in me for a boba. Oh my goodness, it is. I love that. Plus, every dog that gets tested helps contribute to their research into discovering and treating new genetic diseases and dogs to extend the lives of all dogs. Love that. So right now, Embark has an offer on their breed and health kit for our listeners this holiday season. Go to EmbarkVet.com now to get free shipping and save $50 off your Embark, breed and

health kit with promo code morbid. Visit EmbarkVet.com and use promo code Morbid to save $50 today. Alright, let's see what my next one is. What's good to be? My next one is, listen or tale, how I ended up with Christmas decorations from a murderer. Oh no, you know. How that happens? It happens all the time. It does frequently.

It does, it happens a lot. Ashenalena, first let me start off by saying a freaking love you guys. Freaking love you. We can love you right back. You're my first true crime podcast love and really the only my boyfriend likes to tease me for laughing along with you guys. But I got him into saying spooopy. So I guess we're even. I haven't told him I got it from you guys. I think it's funnier that way. Speaking of he really hates all things spooopy and murderous,

especially after I forced him to listen to Domorep episodes back to back on a drive in the dark. But I was making dinner and listening to the Angel Adia's case last night. And when I paused, when I paused it, he goes, no, turn it back on. I have to know what happened.

Oh, I love that. And that made my day. I hope it makes yours. It did. Anyway, back to the reason for the email. I was reminded last week as I pulled out my box of Christmas decorations that I was graciously gifted some decorations from a woman who would later become a murderer. Forgive me, there's a lot of backstory to this, so I'm sorry, but I know you guys never

cut anything, so I won't even offer. Since I'm a teacher, I trained everyone's names, including mine. So there I am, a 22-year-old fresh off the block first-year teacher about to start a first big girl's rob. Woo! I lived in Montana, born and raised, and got my first job in a tiny ass town in Bumfuck-no-where. Montana. For context, this town has a population of 1,300 people. Oh, wow, wow. I was just moving into my cute tiny house

and my principal called and asked if I could make it to the city council luncheon. Where they were likely, where they like to introduce the new teachers to the community. But grudgingly I went. I hate being the center of attention among adults, so my goal was to get in, get out as quickly as possible. But as I'm leaving, I get stopped by this woman, Diane. She proceeded to tell me that her daughter Sally is in my class. I smiled

and awkwardly stumbled through the conversation, but I knew immediately I didn't like her. Uh-oh. She was clearly one of those moms, you know the type. Overly, bubbly, and quote-unquote involves. But only in the annoying way had a hella bad highlights, yellow teeth, the kind of wrinkles people get from being actual trash humans, and casually insulted Sally's dad like three times in a one minute conversation. Oh no. Anyways, I managed to peel myself away from the cringey conversation and make my way back home. Finally, fast forward a few weeks and I find out Diane is the local alcoholic, who recently had such a bad hangover that she couldn't move from her couch for three days. Her poor baby had to go door-to-door asking for food from her neighbors. Oh, I don't think I have to say it but I will anyways. Fuck that bitch.

Yeah. Yep, I agree. Luckily Sally's dad Mike had custody and was doing his absolute best to raise his little girl that absolutely idolized her piece of shit mom. Oh. As the school year went on, Diane continues to be a huge pain in my absolute best to race his little girl that absolutely idolized her piece of shit, Mom. As the school year went on, Diane continues to be a huge pain in my ass. One month she tried bringing my class muffins every Thursday. Now I'm all for weekly, I'm all for weekly muffin, who isn't. But I found out she was only doing it because Mike wasn't allowing her to visit Sally because she wasn't sober. And that was Diane's sneaky way around the problem. Sadly, weekly muffin treats came to a screeching halt.

On a flip side, Mike was the type of parent every teacher dreams of interacting with. He was kind, understanding, and totally supportive. Sally was the sweetest and such a thoughtful kid, but she struggled in school and had a hard time fitting in with her peers. On Halloween, my first one as an adult and not a drunken college kid. Holy shit, I just realized I'm old now. I had the unfortunate luck of opening my front door to Sally and Diane, my first trick-or-treaters. We all looked at each other with a flicker of surprise and Diane says,

oh, I didn't realize this was where you lived. I lived just down the street, to which I mentally responded, ah fuck, now she knows where I live. And then for Christmas, thus the title, I get gifted the most home-made gift of the century. They are literally just chunks of wood spray-painted white and adorned with blue rib until it like presents, picture is attached. Who are they from? You guessed it. Sally and Diane. Well, in case she hadn't figured it out by now, Diane is the murderer. Nothing too eventful happens in the months following, or maybe I just blocked it all out because this bitch haunted my dreams for a year. But anyways, one evening at the beginning of May,

I get a phone call from my neighbor. She says, Hey, why is Sally at her mom's house? She's playing outside with some kid. I thought she wasn't allowed to be at Diane's. I go on to explain that Sally had told me she was going to see her older brother today at her mom's house. Then my brother, then my neighbor says, but Diane isn't there. Her car's gone, you know, small town shit. I said something like, oh, I don't know what that's weird and then left it at that. The next day at school, I had just dropped my kids off at the library and was starting my prep time when I got a phone call from our school resource police officer, Officer Bill. Officer Bill says, hey, do you know who dropped Sally off for school today? I said, no, I'm not outside at that time. He proceeds to tell me that Sally's dad, Mike, hadn't shown up for work that day.

No! Knowing Mike and his reputation in the community, this was very concerning. Officer Bill asked if I would go talk to Sally and see who dropped her off. So I went to the library, pulled Sally into the hallway and asked her. She said, oh, I was so mad. I was at my mom's and she took me to my dad's house and his truck was there, but he wasn't. And she tried to find him, but she couldn't. So I had to stay at my mom's house and that's why I have to wear this stupid dress to school today. I immediately felt weird about this. One, because mom was to have no overnight visits, and two, because Mike would never skip

out on something involving his daughter. I called Officer Bill back immediately, and he ended up going to my classroom to visit. Side note, Officer Bill is cousins with Mike, again, small town shit. He was also uneasy about this, and pulled Sally out of class to talk to her once more. He told me after that he was going to do a wellness check and see what he could find. I'm so nervous. I know. I heard on my lunch that Mike's truck and belongings were at his home,

but no one knew where he was. As soon as he came back into the building after student pickups at the end of the day, the school secretary calls me into her office with sad eyes. She told me that one of his co-workers found Mike dead under a piece of plywood by his house. He had been shot several times once in the head and several times in the chest. Sally was picked up from the bus by her mother, which was not comforting at all. Oh no. Also, I think you said head, but it was hand. Oh, in the hand.

Oh, yeah, you're right. Sorry. Once in the hand, and several times in the chest. Oh, in the hand. Yes, that's why it was like defensive. That all happened on a Thursday because of this custodial rights. Sally couldn't live with her mother, and she got put in foster care.

No. But guess where the foster care house was. Right next door to her mother's house, their yards literally border each other. What the fuck, CPS, the small town shit never ends? You would think that would be like, that's no good, an issue. By Monday, Sally was back in school.

We made it through the rest of the school year with no arrests, news or updates on her father's case. By that time, her foster care placement was up and her mother's some howl got custody. Diane nope the fuck out of town and moved about two hours away with Sally. From day one, everyone in town suspected her and was furious when she got away with leaving. After a year about a year after his death, there we go. That twat was finally arrested for the murder of her ex-boyfriend Mike.

They had text evidence, GPS tracking evidence, the receipt from the purchase of the gun she used to kill him, and witnessed testimony placing her vehicle at the scene at the time of death. Why can't I read it? Reading is hard. Remember that phone call from my neighbor at the beginning? That's when she was killing him. This bitch was even dumb enough to circle that day in her planner and label it day of justice or some shit. Oh my god. Her motive.

Her motive. Her motive. Her motive, if it wasn't clear, was to win custody of Sally. Her trial keeps getting postponed thanks to COVID, and she entered a not guilty plea. But with all the evidence against her, Officer Bill has comforted us, saying there's no way she's getting away with it. And for the happy ending, Sally was adopted by Officer Bill and his wife. Make me mother fucking sob, why don't you?

The chills I just got in the happiness that overwhelms me because I was like, is she still with that woman? I was like, what happened to Sally? Oh, I'm so happy. And it's Mike's cousin. Yeah. So it's like the family. Okay, I'm happy.

I no longer live in this town, but one of my friends is her teacher this year, and he sends me updates now and then, and it sounds like she's doing really well. Oh my God, I'm so happy. So this is the crazy tale how I ended up with Christmas decorations from a murderer. I'm sorry, not sorry, it's so long, but there are so many details.

I also attached the latest article about it so you can see her disgusting face. Thank you so much for that Thank you guys for being awesome and please continue to keep it weird But like not so weird you plan out a murder of your ex to get custody of your kid your friend in Montana Veronica My goodness, I have to open this link and see if I've seen this case. I'm looking at the oh my god the decorations The decorations are a lot. Oh Diane honey. Oh I'm looking at this link and see if I've seen this case. I'm looking at the, oh my god, the decorations. The decorations are a lot.

Oh, Diane, honey. Oh, Diane. Bro, I gotta see. Oh, Diane. That's exactly what I picked. That's exactly how I pictured her. I've not even shocked at all. Wow.

That is rough sauce. Oh my god, Diane. What the hell? And you know what, I'm so glad Sally's doing okay. I know me too. That one was good one. Let's end on a weird one Let's let's do it. All right. This one is I went Christmas tree shopping and ended up face-to-face with a dead guy Wow, I thought it only happened to me. Okay

Hey weirdos, I just wanted to tell you about this weird thing that just happened to me. Please do, that's why we're here. My name is Blank, but please don't use my name because this whole story makes me sound incredibly insensitive. I would hate, and I would feel so bad if someone from this from this person's family heard it. I don't know why I thought that sentence was so funny when it was funny. I went with my daughter and my parents today to buy a Christmas tree. On our way home, we drove past some trucks that were parked off the road, clearly hunting. As we drove past, my dad was like, oh man, someone is giving somebody CPR over there, and we were like, oh shit, and kept driving.

After a few minutes, we decided we wanted to turn around. When we got back to where they were, we asked if they needed help, and the guy was like, uh, I don't know, my brother isn't breathing. Oh, just that. Okay. So we pulled next to him, and there was this lady giving weak ass chest compressions. and the guy was like, I don't know, my brother isn't breathing. Oh, just that. Casual. So we pulled next to him and there was this lady giving weak ass chest compression. So I was chill and sitting in the back of my mom's truck

with my baby and I was like, damn, she's hardly pushing on his chest. So here I am thinking I could do a better job. I casually walk up to her and I'm like, you want me to try what's going on? And she's like, yes, I don't know how to do CPR, do you? And I said, no, but I learned it in school. The extent of CPR I know is from Cosmetology School.

Wow, I did not learn that in Cosmetology School. You probably should have. Yeah, I don't think you're better. Like, what the fuck you should know that? Maybe I have something happen in the salon. I asked somebody else for help, but no one would know, because none of you wanted to.

Maybe some other people did, not even. And I'll, I'm really concerned. So the extent of CPR, I know it's from Cosmetology School. And all I done did was read that shit in a textbook, but like the cocky person I am, I'm like, honey, let me show you how some CPR is done. So my skinny ass, 119 pounds, laid into this guy.

I was on one knee putting all my weight I could manage on his chest while he's looking me in the eyes. His mouth was wide open looking like he was already gone. He had no pulse and he was looking at me with glossy eyes like, girl, I'm out. All I do every day is listen to morbid while at work. So much that I'm like, okay, if I came across a dead body, I'd be fine. Unless there was blood on it. I am not fine.

He looked me in the eyes. I don't know how or when his head turned toward me, but I know he was already gone and he looked at me. And I'm like, sir, please like breathe or something because your brother is behind me crying and it's so sad. Oh my god. But nope. Eventually his eyes closed and I checked his pulse and there wasn't any and he was getting

cold. When the ambulance got there, everyone was standing around while I, uh, yeah, while I still had the little bag thing on his face and I was still trying to give the man some damn air. Eventually I was like, okay, y'all, so I don't work here or know what I'm doing. So does somebody else wanna do this, K-thanks? I love how they're on the side of the road. She's like, y'all, I don't work here.

I don't work on the side of the road. Working here is short. This is so fucked. This is short and terribly written, but I had to give you the details before I threw up and forgot what happened because like, I never touched a dead person before and my brain is motion-out. Thank you for reading this and keep it weird. But that's aware that you're trying to be a mother- uh, hold on, let me start

over. But that's aware that you're trying to buy a mother-fucking Christmas tree, but find a dead guy and end up giving him CPR when you don't know how and then he looks at you like no girl and I try and then you feel bad because everyone in a good story saves a life, but you didn't unless you earn a- but you did it because you don't know what the fuck you're doing and you're a weak ass bitch and under 19 pounds and don't save no lives. Bye. This girl just made my entire December. Like she said, I don't work here. I don't. Y'all want to try this? I did the front. And you said I don And you say, I don't work here. I don't work here.

Also shout out to Cosmetology School for shooting UCPR, not me. But you know what? Maybe it was in your textbook. I think it could have been in your textbook. Yeah, honey. Because this is what happened when I went to Cosmetology School. I did great on the floor. Yeah.

But I like barely turned in my assignments. Oh, yeah. It was in your textbook. I'm sure you probably should have learned it, but I like barely turned in my asses. Oh yeah, it was in your textbook. I'm sure you probably should have learned it, but you did not. I liked chapter or like three. Ha! Ha!

Wow, that was, that was something to beholden. That was wild. I appreciated that a lot. I'm really sorry for that guy's family. I know I am too, because they lost their brother. Because wow, but what a story. And you know what good for you for trying to help. You tried to help. You gave it your shot even though you didn't work there. You tried to help. Even though you didn't work on that road.

I so I appreciate that. I appreciate you and wow. What a tale. God I love you guys so much. You guys are just hilarious. Like shit. Like where can you get that? I don't know. Where else can you get that? I don't know. Here. That's it. That's where you can find something like that.

So guys, you killed it. Yeah. You saved. You tried to save it. You did a great job. You did a great job. You did a great job. You did.

We really appreciate you. Wow. So that was December really appreciate you. Wow. So that was December's listener tails, and that was, keep sending them in, because that was so much fun. Oh, and after the Sarah Fox, well, case, we truly needed a little bit of levity and you guys brought it.

So we appreciate it. You brought out the big listener tails. You did, you brought out the big guns. I love you guys so much. Well, in the meantime, you can follow us on Instagram. At Morbid Podcast. Hit us up on Twitter. At any Morbid Podcast.

Send us a Gmail. Morbid Podcast at gmail.com. We hope you're listening. And we hope you. Keep it. We're. But that's where the almost get kidnapped on Christmas by a guy with a lot of holes in a shirt

who went through a witch upper because that's really scary. And that's where they get shot in the right tip. That's all I have to say about that. Not so weird that like some scary ass-looking lady with wrinkly eyes gives you some Christmas decor and then kills her ex-husband, but I'm so glad Sally's doing well. Not so weird that like you live in a place where Nazis died and they are still there because that's terrifying. And not so weird that you know, try to be a really good person and give somebody CPR on the side of the road, but you don't work there so you can't. And not so weird that,

keep it weird. Keep it so weird that, keep it so weird that your dead grandma shows up. Yeah, that we summon your dead grandma. Yeah, keep it that weird. Bye, bye. Bye. 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.