Morbid - Spooky Lakes (Volume 2)

Episode Date: March 13, 2025

Spooky Lakes time, everyone! Alaina brings us to Big Moose lake in New York State and shares the tragic story of Grace Brown’s murder. Grace’s ghost has been seen many times at the lake since she was murdered in 1906 and at the nearby Covewood lodge. We then follow Ash across the country to Oregon, more specifically Crater Lake in Crater Lake National park. Ash shares about all the mysterious disappearing planes, a double murder from 1952 and of course she could never forget the Old Man of the Lake.  Cowritten by Alaina Urquhart, Ash Kelley & Dave White (Since 10/2022)Produced & Edited by Mikie Sirois (Since 2023)Research by Dave White (Since 10/2022), Alaina Urquhart & Ash KelleyListener Correspondence & Collaboration by Debra LallyListener Tale Video Edited by Aidan McElman (Since 6/2025) Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Hey, weirdos, I'm Ash. And I'm Elena. And this is morbid. The listener tales episode. Brow bropop bo bo bo bo bo bo bo bo bo bo bo bo bo bo. Brought to you by you for you from you and all about you. And you know what that means we are punchy. We are cooky.

We are wilding out. It is the end of the week when we record listener tales, which means we are like just on a space level right now. On a space level. Exactly. DJ James Kennedy. Shout out to him if you want to DJ my wedding, feel free. No, just kidding. Never mind. That would be very chaotic. It would be like so great, but I actually brought that up to Drew and he was like, well,

I feel like then that would be like the celebrity and then like people wouldn't be interested in us. And I was like, you're not wrong because I'd be pretty fucking stoked if DJ James Kennedy was at somebody else's wedding. You're like, you know what? I would only care about him too. So that makes sense. All right. Yeah.

So it's listener tale time. And I'm pretty excited because it looks like we got a batch of. of goodies. I mean, like, what else is new? I also wanted to mention that a listener sent us a picture of the original Peaky Blinders. Very cool. The coolest. Which one's the one that we feel like we know? That would be Little Finn. Why do we know Little Finn? The original. He looks, I'm actually staring at him right now because I sent it to Drew and said, who is this? He looks like someone we know. Yeah, he does. But wow, it was really cool to see. Yeah, it's wild. I feel like they a really good job casting all of them. Yeah, they did. They look like remarkably similar.

They do, right? Like they got, uh, they got Tommy, Thomas Shelby's like cheekbones. Pretty perfect. That's Killian. In the eyes too. Yeah. Definitely. But that was really cool. I also saw just like one more thing while I was like trolling through the email. Garrett, I'm really sorry that I almost caused you to black out while driving with the Mary Jane Kelly episode of the Jack the Ripper series. I apologize. Yeah, Alina, you should probably calm down before we are responsible. for like vehicular deaths man slaughter of some sort but you know what garrett's okay guys it's okay they were they were able to pull over we're okay but i had to apologize very sorry garret are you i am all right i am i swear are you yes like no you love to scare the pants off of the people i do enjoy that pants you're out of here without further ado let's let's dive in shall we yeah yeah

let's do it. The first one is called listener's story, but not so where that you move to New Hampshire and invite strangers into your home with your three babies. They're like a fucking idiot. Whoa. I'm excited already. Let's go. It says, ee, I'm so excited to maybe have you read, Jesus, we're off to a great start here. We're off to the races, everybody. It's late. I'm so excited to maybe have you read my story. It's a long one. I'm sorry for that. Never be. I stumbled on your podcast about a year ago, and now when I turn it on, it's like catching up with old friends. Comforting and feel good. Oh, I love that. Thank you. Love you, love you. We love you. What a coincidence. I know, like, look at us here, just vibing and loving. Just a love fest. It says, I was born and raised in

an ultra-high demand religion and finally got out about one and a half years ago. Good for you. I know, congrats. My husband and our, my husband and I and our three little boys, two, four and six. Oh, the cutest stages. We love it. Wow. We're living in so. We're living in so. I know. We're living in Surprise, surprise, Utah. As soon as I left the church, I knew we had to leave. My husband is an air traffic controller and got picked up at a faculty, nope, it's called a facility, at a facility in super southern New Hampshire, super quick. Hey.

I was extra excited because we were moving to the land of morbid. That's right. We're waving at you right now. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello from MA. We bought a gorgeous home in the middle of the woods on some property.

Get it. Love it. The boys and I ended up flying out alone a few weeks before my husband, as he had to finish out his contract. The boys and I took a red eye and it was holy fucking shit, awful. You did that with just two, four, and six. You should have a statue erected in your honor. I wouldn't even want to do that by myself. So my goodness. Wow. My goodness. Like hats off to you. For real. That's some, that's some icon shit right there. Regardless, pulling in, we were all ecstatic. The only problem, which ended up being a huge problem, was that I

hadn't researched the political climate in the town. Because New Hampshire is a swing state, I assumed a lot. Yeah. Bad choice. Yeah. Apparently, we moved into the most conservative town around. We put up our pride flag. Oh, no.

And it was ripped down and shredded in the same night. You know what, fuck people. If you ever do that, you're a piece of shit. And here's the thing. Like, anybody's flag. And that's exactly what I was just going to say. Yeah, that goes the same on the other. Like, don't just.

destroy people's property. No. Don't do it. It's just shitty to do. It's also it's I just, why are you that upset about what somebody else is doing? And especially a pride flag. Right. Like I'm not going to your house and taking down your flags. That's, it just doesn't, it doesn't make sense to me. It's like, that is not going against anybody. No. It's going, it's just being like love. It's actually celebrating literally everybody. It's all encompassing. Yeah, exactly. That's just really shitty. I'm sorry that happened to you. So am I. In short, I was a little on edge being alone in the woods, and especially after that happening, I'm sure. Of course. With my three tiny boys and everyone knowing the bleeding heart liberals moved into their little town. It's a little scary. I admire you, though. Come on over to

mass. Yeah, come on over. I'm just kidding. I decided as a gift to myself for keeping everyone alive and happy to hire someone to come detail our car. Good for you. Oh my God, that sounds super pathetic. I'm old. No, you're amazing and I get it. No, I get that because Drew actually details cars and having your car detailed is just a luxurious experience. I love when Drew details my car. Drew Details TM. It's an experience. He's so good at it.

I got the town's Facebook group and posted for suggestions. A guy messaged me with a great price and we scheduled a date. I'm already so nervous. Oh, no. The day he scheduled, yes, the day he scheduled, he was arrived. Oh, my God. You can do it. I don't know.

The day he scheduled, he was to arrive at 9 a.m. He didn't show up until 3 because, quote, his truck had broken down. All right. Cool, whatever things happen. When he got there, I chatted with him for a bit, and he showed me some crazy crash pictures of the vehicle. It struck me kind of odd that he had been in a huge wreck today

and had still come over. No bumps or bruises either. And my naive little shit for brain self thought, he's devoted. I went inside to attend a babies and I hear a knock. He tells me our water spicket outside isn't working. I told him, I didn't know where that was, and he said he could go find it.

I'd be like, I don't know how to tell you. This is where it gets embarrassing. I fucking let him in. He goes downstairs to the unfinished basement and I stand at the bottom of the stairs waiting for him like a fucking idiot. I let him out of my sight. He's chatting with me, as I mentioned. Guys, it feels like I have no common sense at all here.

I get that. No, I, you know what? In the moment, you have three children under the age of 10. Things get chaotic and things fall by the wayside. Exactly. And you're here. So that means that it worked out okay. It worked out, yeah. So they mentioned that their husband wouldn't be home for a couple days.

He comes back around eventually to the stairs and says the water should be on. He goes back outside and I go back to babies. A few hours go by and it's getting dark. He's still outside and the alarming part is that I never actually see him cleaning anything. It's a fleeting thought, but I move on feeding and putting babies to bed. After, I go check on him and he's literally standing there doing nothing. Just probably taking a break. right? Yeah. No. Yeah. I chat for a second and I tell him I'm going to go to bed. It's pretty late. I ask him just to let me know when he leaves so I can close the garage and lock up. And then it's the like wiggly. It's like the e-face. He texts me at fucking 10 p.m.

What? Guys, my car wasn't even that dirty. Seven hours? No. Seven hours. Honey, Drew will get it done in one. Yeah, he's got it. And then he tells me he didn't finish. So he has to come back tomorrow. I'd be like, I'll find someone else things. I was a friend. I was a officially on edge. He sends me his Venmo and, yep, like a fucking lunatic, I venmo him and tip him. No, you know what? That speaks to my soul, though, because I would do that same shit. Yes, you would. I'm always like tipping people for things I didn't like. Like, thank you so much for the horrible job. Yay. You're trying your best. I love your shirt. This is so real. I wake up in the morning and the boys and I go out to my car so we can run to the store. It's dead. Oh. My car's not even two years.

Oh, what did he do to your car? I start to get panicky. Yep. I try it again and all, oh no, and all the check engine shit, et cetera, turns on. I noticed there's a light in the very back left on too. Probably an accident. No. Everything's fine.

Right? No. I text him and ask him to please hurry back because I'm stuck out here all alone in the woods. Oh, no. With my kids and without a car. I look around inside and literally nothing has changed. Nothing's been wiped or vacuumed. I'm getting...

pulled apart the inside of your car. Yeah, he, he detailed something. He actually, like, D detailed. Yeah, he did. I'm extra nervous now. What has he been doing for seven fucking hours, too? He doesn't show up again until three. What is he doing until three every day?

Fucking. Ruining other people's cars? What's it called when you're, like, plotting evil shit? Just plotting evil shit? I was going to say plotting evil shit. No, it starts with a D. Dda, da, da, da, da. I don't know.

Is it like diabolical? No, I don't know. My brain's a weird place. I don't know. They're fuming. It is. It definitely is. They're fuming. I see him drive in and I stop to tell him I'm taking the boys for a walk. Please just jump it and finish it. When we get back, he's digging around the back of his truck. He looks up and says his wife and kids will be by for a visit. You're not hanging out. Oh yeah, you want some fucking lemonade? Seriously. I tell him, all right, and we go inside. I assumed he meant to visit him, but also, why the fuck was he still here? Why? Not too long after that. I hear a knock on the door. I always. I always. open it up to him and his wife and child. What? I say, hi, and stand there awkwardly. He says, well, are you going to let them in?

I abs a fucking luteley panic. I tell him, oh, sure, of course. And they all walk in. He immediately says, I have to go to the store and then leaves. What? Guys, the nearest store is 25 minutes away. What is happening? His wife and toddler are standing there awkwardly, and I'm just having

heart palpitations. Oh my God. I ask if he'd like to come play with some toys in the toy room. She slowly follows, saying a few words. I've tried to make small talk and it was a no. So fucking awkward. An hour passes and this creepy fucking guy is still not back. She's kind of pacing and I'm getting more and more freaked out. Finally, she stands up. She doesn't say anything and walks outside, leaving her kids. I was just going to say she doesn't know you. Yeah. I panic. A few minutes go by and she walks back into the house. Sits down on the couch, doesn't say a word about it. My oldest, who's autistic, has a freak out.

He probably can feel how fucking weird all this bullshit is. And I go attend to him upstairs for a few minutes, leaving her downstairs on the main level, alone with a lot of crying out loud of emojis. There's a lot of crying out of emojis. Or like, yelling. After he comes down, I go back downstairs and I've had enough. I tell her, I don't want to be rude, but I don't really know why she's here or why her husband is at the store or still cleaning my car because it's been like 12 hours at this point.

Oh my God. I tell her I need to feed my kid's dinner. She gathers her kid and his coat, and it takes 30 minutes for her to do so. Why? She finally walks out and she sits in my fucking driveway in her car for another 30 minutes. Girlfriend, I love you, but why didn't you call the police at this point? I was going to say, I'm going to be honest, I would have called the police at this point. been like you need to take care of this. Probably in the stress of the moment and all the children, but like future reference, if you're ever in a situation like this,

call the police. Yeah, just let them deal with it. I'm so stressed out. I'm losing my mind at this point. She finally drives away and I'm still full on fucking panicking. It's too much weird. The guy isn't back yet, so I run out to my car.

It's still running. He had left it running for hours and it was nearly out of gas girlfriend. He did that on purpose. Oh my God. And all the check engine shit was still on. I'm like, I can't believe I'm reading this right now. I'm so stressful. I'm so glad that we're reading this, meaning you're alive. You are alive to tell

this story because if I was watching this in like a movie, I'd be like, oh no, they're all going to die. Yeah, this is not going to be good at the end. I call my sister sobbing. I would too. And you would be like, what the fuck are you doing? What are you doing? She tells me to get all his cleaning shit out of that car that he actually never used and to go put it at the end of the driveway. I do that and then text him telling him, it's all good, doesn't need to come back and quote unquote clean. I left your stuff out for you. He texts me back with some weird,

oh, I'm so sad you don't want me to finish. You sure? Nope, fuck off, creep. Finish? You didn't even begin. You haven't even started. I go inside and my brain is running a million miles per second. He knows my husband isn't here.

I've already paid him. His creepy wife was wandering around my house. She was alone. Why have I been so stupid? I think to go check all the locks on the main floor. Locked. And then I remember he was in the basement. I run downstairs.

stairs. The basement windows are all ajar. One smashed in from either side, so I can't even close it. I can't even close it now. I had checked everything the day we moved in. It was all new. Oh my God. I run back up and gather the boys trying to figure out what to do. I get a wild hair and Google this dude's name. Oh no. His mug shop pops off. Evading arrest. Repeat offender. No. I am full down meltdown. A full down. A fuller. blown meltdown. Oh, my poor kids. I get my purse and the kids and we walked to our nearest neighbors. I tell them what happened and they call the cops. Thank you. Thank you. Cops come and check all the doors and windows taking pictures of the ones in the basement. He takes a statement and they set up a

patrol for the night. My neighbor lends me a handgun for the night and I sit up holding it all fucking night long. My neighbor texts me at one point and lets me know they saw a white truck. The one he had crashed was a white truck. And they saw it driving back and forth. And they saw it driving back and fourth in front of our driveway. I called the cops and they came back and we filled out in no trespassing order. My husband arrived the next day and I fucking lost it. A few weeks later, he pulled up to it next to us at the gas station. And then a few weeks after that, he pulled up next to me after I had just parked in a

Walmart parking lot. 35 minutes outside of town. No. He's fucking everywhere. Wait, this is the end. Haven't seen him in a while now and just, and we have a ring a lot. alarm system. And I'm not a naive little shit anymore. I remember thinking, Jesus, fuck, we're going to be murdered and Elena and Ash are going to tell our story. Oh, my God. I'm pretty glad you

didn't have to. Oh, my goodness. Worrel. That was so stressful. And he's just like living out there right now? Hua. I need to. I want to help. I don't know what to do. I feel very helpless right now. This is why I don't go to New Hampshire. I was just going to say, like, any time. And the next person that asked me to go to New Hampshire, I'm going to tell them listener tales, 47 question mark, I think. Listen to the first story.

I'm never going back to New Hampshire again, ever. Wow. What? Wow. That was, that story was harrowing. I'm so scared. And it feels ongoing. It didn't have an ending.

It did not happen. The ending was he's everywhere. I hate that. And not in the Michelle Branch kind of way. I hate that. Oh my God. Turn it inside out so I can see ya. I can't stress.

Oh my God. We got to, we got to go. We have to move on to the next one. I'm so glad that you're okay. Please hope you continue to be okay. Please be careful. Like,

I hope your neighbors are looking out for, like, move, yeah, move to Massachusetts. You can like, it's not even that far. Oh, man.

Oh, man. That was like a lot. That was harrowing. That was very harrowing. I didn't know the definition of harrowing until that. point. And this is it. And then I lived it. This is it in that moment. Oh my gosh. We love you. Take care of yourself. Okay. Well, this next one is entitled, hello, or it's not entitled to anything, just

listener tales. Yes. It says, hello weirdos. I'm very thrown off by that. It says hello most amazing weirdos. Oh, well, I'm reading from the email yet. Sorry. If you do decide to read the attached story, I promise I won't shit my pants, but I may faint, LL. And it says, here's a picture of the psycho in the story. It's his booking pick as I don't have any pictures of this dude. Now who wouldn't who wouldn't be attracted to that rolling on the floor laughing? We're awful. He looks a little scary, so I'm pretty scared to read this. I'm so scared. Hello, most amazing weirdos. I've been listening to your podcast almost religiously since discovering it about a year ago and have been completely enthralled from the first minute. Thank you so much. That was really nice. I have become great at

finding excuses to bypass yard work or housework and listening to morbid instead. I'm sure it's much better choice. It is. I think so. I previously sent this story in, but now there's more to tell. Heck, I might possibly one day be featured on an ID channel episode as things are getting scary. Is that the theme of this fucking episode? Oh, my God.

Deb, what have you done with these? Deb. You've got to give us a reprieve here. Deb, Deb, Deb, did you reach out to these people? All right, it says, here we go. I ask that you don't use my name. I will not. We shall not.

as this case is still pending, and I have enough gossip going around about my life as it is. Oh, no, I hate people. Never enough gossip. I live in a very small town in Utah. Whoa. Population is, oh, it's a Utah episode. Population is around 3,600, which is huge compared to a few years ago. Wow.

Needless to say, pretty much everyone knows everything. Everyone knows everyone around here. And they also know your business, whether it's true or made up by the gossip mongers. I am a single mom and my daughter and granddaughter both live with me. Oh, I love that. money is tight but we always made things work so in june of 2020 we had a windstorm that took out my back fence now this is no small event as my backyard is a good size piece of property and my backyard also faces the state highway my fence is slash was a six foot tall wooden fence that blocked my life

from the rest of the world that sucks that it fell down i know as it turned out the insurance would only of course give me a fraction of the money it would cost to replace the fence and i couldn't afford to get it fixed. That's bullshit. Whenever that shit happens, I hate that. I'm like, why do I have insurance even? Insurance? Oh. It's, it's, you know, have you ever seen the lady on TikTok that's like, name things that are a scam that like nobody tells you as a scam? All insurance. Thus, the ducks, geese, and chickens in my backyard, we're having a lovely time causing havoc on the highway and risking life and weighing on a daily basis. Yes, I am a true hick and love the country life.

Okay, but I love it. I feel you. After several weeks, one of the local good old, boys, we'll call him Bob, stated that he would be happy to help repair my fence using the materials that could be salvaged and only buying what was necessary to at least get the fence standing upright again. That sounds nice. It does, but people are never nice. Well, that's what's upsetting about this. Yeah. That's a genuinely nice thing. Yeah, you can't trust nice to be. But you can't even trust that because people are such shit. No. And if somebody was like, oh, I'm willing to do this and like not like get paid at all. And you're like, oh, I don't trust that shit. Yeah. It sucks. Like, what happened to society? Are we all okay? The answer is no.

I would use the insurance money to buy what was needed and we would split what money was left. This would help me and him. I was grateful and agreed. The deal was made. I do need to mention that Bob is close to 10 years older than me in his early 60s and not in the best of health. Not to mention that he is constantly intoxicated, starting the morning with whiskey and his coffee, breaking out the beer by 10 a.m. And never stopping until he goes home to bed. Now let me be clear that I knew this about Bob, as does the whole town.

However, he was always a happy drunk and never did any harm to anyone that I know of, and it seemed like a win-win for all involved. I get it. So we buy some material and Bob starts working on the fence. It took him over two months and the job was sketchy to say the least. During this time, I saw him almost every day and after I was done working, we would often visit for a while and have a beer. In my mind, no big deal, just being friendly.

Until the day he asked me out and wanted to try a relationship, to which my answer was a definite, no. To back up, I have a pretty rough track record in the relationship department and have been single now for five plus years. I have no interest in going down that path again. I have often told family that I would rather be known as, quote, the crazy old cat lady and then to ever have a relationship again. Aw. I'm sorry that you've gone through so much. I know, me too. To be clear, I'm not really fond of cats.

Listen, neither was I until I got them and now I'm a crazy cat lady. I'm not either. I only like Ash's cats, but I love that you want to be a crazy old cat lady with no cats. At first, Bob seemed fine with my answer, and that was the end of that. Until the night before I left on a trip with my group of friends, Bob came over and asked if he could go with me on the trip. I told him no, and that this trip had been planned for over a year. He came a bit unhinged and informed me that he had been following me for weeks and watching me with binoculars and even through the scope on his rifle. Bye, Bob.

What? Bob stated that he knew I was seeing someone, and that is why I was. I didn't want to be with him. Of course, this was not true, but I was instantly angry and a bit freaked out to hear that he had been spying on me for weeks. Yeah. I told him to leave me alone and went in my house and locked the doors. Good. The next morning, I left on my trip and my phone began ringing constantly. He quickly filled my voicemail with very upsetting messages. Why is it that like certain men just cannot be let down? That's, and it's really funny because John and I were watching Piki blinders the other night we you watch that we watched that and at one point and I'm sure anybody who's

watched peekie blinders were in season one at some point they'll know what I'm talking about he John goes geez that guy really can't handle rejection and I looked at him and I was like most can't most and he was like all right and I was like I'm not talking about you no you are not most I was like exception to the rule my friend but it's true it's it happens way more often than not that you say no and that is not good enough do you remember the fucking guy that showed up to my work when I was like, I had never even gone on a date. Yes. Yes. Yeah.

It's a lot. So this is terrible. Filled my voicemail with very upsetting messages. I blocked his number and he continued to call a total of 416 times in one day. What? His messages stated that he was following us on our trip or that he was going to sabotage my car while I was gone and he knew where it was. Also, I love that because like, like, you're not going to bring that to the police and be like, hello, here's what he plans to do. There's perfect evidence.

But then again, these things happen. And the police end up being like, sorry, we can't do anything until he violently assaults you. So if that happens, let us know. And we'll try to make sure it doesn't happen again, but we can't guarantee. And you might be dead. And you might be dead at that point. So like, it's a real catch-22 here. But like, let's all see how this shakes out.

That's always how it goes. Unreal. So the next day I received a text from a number I didn't recognize. Of course, it was Bob. Bob. His text stated that he had, quote, done something to my car, and if I didn't call him, I shouldn't drive it when I got home or it would end badly. It'd be like, okay, then I won't drive it. Fuck off, Bob. Yeah, fuck off into the sun, Bob. He continued calling and messaging me from this new number, which I also blocked. Later that same

day, I received a text from one of his kids. This man has kids. She apologized to me and informed me that he was using his deceased wife's phone to call me. Are you fucking kidding me? That was totally sickening. Yeah, that's disgusting. He told me that she took the phone from him and it wouldn't happen again. Oh, I hate that she even has to do that. That is sad. The next afternoon, I received a call from my sister who was very upset. Bob had started calling her and threatening her to get her to call me.

I assured her that I was fine and I would handle it when I got home. We were in another state at the time. When the trip ended and I was back home, my car seemed fine. I called the local police department and reported the telephone harassment. Good job. An officer showed up at my house and looked at the house. the calls and texts. His solution was, oh, it's just Bob. I'll go talk to him and it'll be fine. I'd be like, yeah, he called me 416 times, texted me from his deceased wife's phone,

fucked with my car, and fucked with my sister. So you're going to do a whole lot more than just go talk to fucking Bob, buddy. But they won't. No, they won't. But I would say that shit. No, I wouldn't actually. I would say that shit like after the cop left in my own home by myself. Into the mirror. You would say, I'd be like, God damn it. This is what you should have said at. You would wake up at two in the morning and be like, no, you will not. The way that I actually do that. That happens to me too. I think we're all in this together, guys.

But they write, so Officer Barney Fife talks to Bob and tells him to leave me alone. Yeah, that's going to work. Oh, Bob is driving by my house constantly and begins shooting at my house with a BB gun and flinging rocks with a slingshot. I would strangle this man. I reported the first few incidents and again, he gets a stern talking to by the local officers. fucking do something. I was forced to install three security cameras in the back of my home to prove it was Bob doing these things. When I would show footage to the police, they would say that it wasn't definite enough.

Wow. Finally, they did cite him for telephone harassment and told him to never contact me again. Bob's response sends me flowers with a message that he still wants to talk to me. I reported this to the police and again get the, he's just a good old boy. He doesn't mean any harm. What? No, he does mean harm. He said he meant harm.

Who gives a shit about the good old boy bullshit. Again, things escalate. I don't know how many times I called in a report, but the total damage at the time was two broken windows in my house. Windshield shattered on my daughter's truck, a goose with a broken wing, and several small dings from rocks hitting my car. He went to fucking animal cruelty over this.

This guy's a piece of shit. Also, why do you want to be with somebody this badly that wants nothing to do with you? And you think that this is the way to make it happen? This is straight up like imbalanced. It is. One day, when I was out in the yard tending to the crazy winged creatures, he drove by and flung a rock with the slingshot that nearly hit me in the head. Now my granddaughter plays in this yard, trampoline, swing set, kids pool, etc. Now we are afraid to let her back there.

I hate that you are going through this. That's so fun. I should also state that on one occasion, I stated to the officer that they could arrest him for drinking and driving, to which the response was, oh, it's only five. He's probably not that drunk yet. Yeah. Let's just wait until he kills someone. Are these, like, get the fuck out of here. These officers suck.

I'm about to drive to your town. I was so angry and truly amazed at this that I had no response. I finally had a different officer show up. We'll call him Dudley Do-Rite. Okay, I'm feeling better about this one. Me too. And he took things seriously. He gathered all the information and forwarded it to the district attorney and got a

stalking injunction against Bob. He also hauled good old boy Bob in for some serious questioning. Yay for Dudley-Doo-right. With the stocking injunction in place, Bob is no longer allowed to have firearms for three years. For three years. Only three years. The justice system.

This enraged him to no end. Finally, one afternoon on one of his drive-by events, Bob didn't see my adult daughter in the yard and hit her in the leg with a rock as it ricocheted off the side of the house. Again, we file a complaint, and the chief of police shows up to take a report. He was not too happy about having to arrest

one of the local, yokel, good old drunk boys, and tried to dissuade us from moving forward. You're an asshole, sir. Yeah, get fucked. I kept asking my daughter, are you sure you want to testify? Yeah, I do. Now, my daughter is one hardcore badass to say the least, and she was not backing down. Hell yeah.

Bob gets taken in for breaking the stocking injection and assault. Of course, the next morning, he bailed out, and things just got worse. In truth, things got so uncomfortable that my daughter and granddaughter moved two hours away, which truly broke my heart. They are back home again now. Oh, good. First, Bob filed a small claims court case against me stating that I never paid him. for the fence and that I owed him almost double what the original amount was.

I was forced to go to court and prove my case, which I had everything to do this, including pictures of my crappy fence. After that, things went quiet for a few days. Then my sister starts getting calls from Bob. He filled her voicemail and started calling her house phone. Yes, she still has one of those. Now, my messages are getting extremely violent. Bob stated that he had a bunch of boys that were going to kill me.

My friends that I took a trip with, is my daughter and my granddaughter. Let's go get Bob. Oh yeah. Are you ready for the next. Let's go fucking get Bob. The next sentence. I'm going on a plane right now to get Bob.

He stated clearly that if I didn't speak to him, he would kill my granddaughter slowly and painfully. Let's go. Bob has no idea what the... We're going to peekie blinders the shit. I've been watching the shit out of peeky blinders. We're allegedly coming to help. Allegedly. Allegedly.

Fuck you, Bob. I was enraged. I was shaking with fear and anger. How dare you threaten an innocent little girl? Bob, you piece of fucking shit. I'm not a violent person, but this would induce some serious fucking violence. I... Elena says I am.

I'm just kidding. How dare you threaten an innocent little girl? Bob then left a message stating he was going to blow Officer Dudley Duhreight's head off and shoot one of the other local officers knees out. Get a fucking hobby, Bob. Dear cops. Are you ready to get them now? Yeah, that he's coming for you.

When we reported these calls previously, nothing was really done about it. However, when we reported that officers' lives were now being threatened, then shit got real. That would infuriate me. I'd be like, honestly, get fucked. Yeah. Get fucked.

Get fizzity, fizzity fooked. An officer came to the house and got a copy of all the voicemails. Wow, suddenly they're on it. Yeah. Every officer in town, okay, there's only four. Plus, in the surrounding little communities, were looking for Bob. They finally found him on a back road, drunk as a skunk and with weapons.

And so the standoff began. And remember, he's not supposed to have weapons for three years. Bob, still threatening to kill me and my family, was also threatening to kill all the officers. At this point, they had 18 officers involved in the standoff and called any sniper from one of the bigger cities. Bob also threatened to blow up the whole town and kill himself. 12 hours into the standoff, about four in the morning, Bob runs up into the hills and they lose. him. They have a fucking sniper. How do you lose him? Again, what? I should explain that a little tiny community like this does not have police dogs or helicopters to assist in these things in the

mountainous area he ran into his very large, dense, and has steep cliffs. I was informed of that they were calling off the search and sending an officer to escort me to a safe house until he was found. So this motherfucker just to get to blow up your whole fucking life and disappear into the mountains? With any luck, I hope that he found himself lost in those dense woods and then ran... And hungry. Ran straight into a black bear. And then the ground ended. Whoop.

Just saying. I turned that down and went to stay with a family member instead. Bob was not taken into custody until after 4 p.m. the following day and he was found about three blocks from my home. Oh my God. This all happened mid-June 2021. Bob is currently being held in the local jail awaiting trial. or for the attorneys to come up with a deal. He better not get one.

He has multiple charges against him, including aggravated attempted murder. This due to the fact that he almost ran over four of the officers during the standoff. None of these new charges have anything to do with what he did to me and my family. Of course, they don't. That has all been put on the back burner for now. I live with a great deal of fear that they will allow him have bail at some point, but so far this hasn't happened.

I've since been informed that he had not only alcohol in his system, but was out of his mind with drugs, including meth and had paraphernalia on drugs in his truck. I should let you know that I'm insanely naive to anything about drugs. According to the people I've talked to, Bob dabbled in drugs when he was younger, but apparently started using again because I, quote, broke his heart. But you didn't fucking who? You didn't do anything. You just said, no, I don't want to go on a date with you.

And he has no fucking idea about your previous dating history and what you've experienced. He's just a fucking narcissist who's upset that you don't want to date him. And also, you have nothing to do with what somebody else decides to do. No, you did, he didn't start doing anything again because of you. No. He started doing it because he made a decision. Exactly. You said no, you were clear.

And everybody has that right. You have autonomy. You are allowed to say no to things. And that is not causing anyone to do anything. And if they try to claim that, they're a bullshit liar. And we can all say poo to them. Pooh, poo on you. Pooh.

I've never been involved in anything. like this before and let me tell you. I felt like it was a lifetime movie. Same. Especially when they asked me to talk to Bob during the standoff and try to talk him into giving himself up. Oh my God. I did agree to do this, but all it did was infuriate him more, even though he had told the police that he would turn himself in if they would let him talk to me. My God. I truly feel that if my complaints had been taken more seriously in the beginning, yep, things would not have escalated to the point they did. How many more stories do we need with that sentence in them, though? For real.

Stocking and harassment need to be taken way more seriously. I agree. I am grateful that me, my family, my friends, and the officers are, for now, safe and sound. Now, here is the update. After a year of monthly hearings, Bob's and his attorney accepted a plea deal. Are you fucking kidding me? I am not happy with the deal. They dropped all four first-degree felonies and made one second-degree felony.

Of the 13-plus misdemeanors, they dropped everything and left one. one class A misdemeanor. He has a sentencing hearing in less than a month. At this time, he has already served all his time for the misdemeanor. And there's a very good chance of him being released on parole. Wow. Are you fucking kidding me? Through all of this, he has never accepted any responsibility.

And still, even in court, blames me for everything. Yeah, it's always your fault. If God forbid gets, if he, God forbid, gets out, I could be the next missing woman on the news. I live with this fear every day. Oh. I want to take this from me. me. I do too. Well, sorry for the story being so long and that I am not the best writer slash storyteller. You are. I'm so happy I found your podcast and love listening to your stories. Thanks for your time.

And as always, keep it weird. Wow. Oh my God. Guys, are you trying to like ruin us? I'm so sorry that you guys have, are not only have gone through these things, but are still experiencing them. For real. Like, man. Well, we've got something. to soothe our woes. I hope so. Because this listener tale is, you can't trust my grandfather with your music demos because he will deliver them to you while you and your family are serving time for murder. All right, you're going to have to explain this one. And that they will. Hello, my lovely weirdos. My name is Anya. You can use it. I love that name. And I genuinely cannot express how much I fucking love you guys. I fucking love you too, Anya. I have always wanted older siblings. And now I feel like I have two. Yes, you are my parasycial relationships. Deal with it. Glad to be here. We all have them.

I'm so happy that we're yours. I would give my left leg to meet you guys in real life. You don't have to. Which is saying a lot because I'm a dancer and my left leg is actually my good leg. Keep them. Keep them. You don't have to do that. And also I feel like I don't even know if we're that fun to meet. I feel like we're probably not. I'm just like, I'm very lame. I'm lame as well. You've like made me lamer. But it's because we're old. It's what I'm here for. I love you. Anyways, enough with my gushy-wushy fan talk. Let's get on with my story, or stories, excuse me. I have two because I couldn't decide which to send in. And I'm sorry if it's too long. Yes, I do have to apologize. I'm an anxious Libro, okay? But I won't tell you to shorten it because I know you won't. No way. Never be sorry. I'll never shorten. My first story is

about my grandfather who told us this after he told the media. Wow. Granted, it happened like three months before I was born, but he still could have told my mom, okay, bitch, move on with it. We didn't say that. They did. Okay. So basically my grandfather, who I will call David, since he's literally in the public eye already, was a rock musician in the 60s with a band called, should I say it if we're not saying his name? Let's say a different name. It's a day.

So my grandmother, so my grandmother before they got divorced, but that's a whole other story that we will not be sharing today. Before that, David was in the process of forming a band called orchestra, yep, with a group of stoners that he was chill with. That didn't work out. of the band members, Bobby, did keep all of their demos. I love, like, music talk kind of stories. Also, it's thundering outside. Yeah, the fuck it is. So I hope you guys hear it because

who doesn't love a thunderstorm. Spooky thunder. Let's go. A few months after the band broke up and he started the band with my grandmother, oh, they did that band together. Yeah. That's cool. They were in that band. They were making sweet, sweet tunes together. They were in American band. Exactly. He was walking by the place where the Grateful Dead would were Hearse. They were friends somehow. Oh, okay. And he ran into Bobby, the guy from the band. Bobby introduced him to his friend Charlie, who he would be going to California with, and then asked David if he could do him a favor and store some boxes for him. David said he would, and he took them. I'm sorry, we're all understanding that Charlie and family and music demos in California, I'm getting it. We're seeing a little bit of a web

connecting here. I think that's why I'm reading it. And you didn't even realize. No, I felt it cooking in my head. That's what I, but I mean, like, this was, like, drawn to you. Oh, I didn't even know that, like, that wasn't even in the thing. Wow. I'm actually really excited. Wow. Years later in 2002, David decided to open the box and he found a bunch of tapes in them. He looked at the labels and found the old demos from orchestra, along with some that were personal demos that Bobby and Charlie made together. David decided to hunt down Bobby and gave him his tapes back, but that became a little bit difficult when he remembered that Bobby was in prison. Bobby's last name? Oh, yeah. It was Bobby Bucillel. How do you? Bucillel. Boeuxelae. Whoa.

And Charlie? It was Charlie Manson. Wow. David decided this was irrelevant and visited Bobby in prison to give him mistakes. David decided this was irrelevant. He said Charlie Manson? Irrelevant. I don't know her. Oh, anytime someone says that, I get the image in my mind. I don't know her. Later in an interview, he shared that he was excited. about this because Bobby and his little prison friends were putting out the orchestra album. David was so excited. He was kicking his little legs around and he sounded like he was about to have a sparky big time all over the fucking place. Ma'am, this is your grandfather. This is so much.

He was supposed to go on TV to talk about it a little bit later on. But when he got to the set, they said, sorry, Dave, we can't do this today. Michael Jackson just died. Oh, that's a tough hit. David was no longer kicking his legs with glee to say the least. Nobody really listened to the album either. Can't say I blame them. Anyway, that's my story on how my grandfather knew the Manson family. Oh, he was also roommates with Bobby at one point. Oh, forgot that part. Just forgot that.

I'm not editing or proofreading this, so I'm sorry about anything that doesn't make any fucking sense. If you guys want another listener tale about my creepy-ass haunted university, I would love to send you another story. Please do. Always do. I will end with my Keep It Weird ramble. Keep it weird, but not so whether you had contact with the Manson family at all,

but especially that you were willing to visit a fucking murderer and not your newborn granddaughter, or that you actually put out an album with said murderer and go on TV and talk about it, but get outshined by another musician as usual. P.S. My grandparents have played with Alice Cooper and Ike and Tina Turner. Yeah, I'm just sharing this to brag. I think I deserve it. Wow, you definitely do. Holy shit. You do. You are amazing. That was incriable. Wow. I love that. That was not what I expected it to be. And for future reference, we want all the stories. We want all the stories. Give me, give me more. Give me. I can't sing the rest. all the stories.

All right. So the next one that I'm going to, did you guys hear that? Did you hear that clap? I don't know if it picked it up, but it was a good one. Wait. Oh, I thought it was still going to. Wait. I was like, hold on.

We're like, we're going to make you listen to Thunder. I hope there's like a crazy one that's like, boom. Like a crazy clap. Like that commercial where like if you fell in the grocery store, you're entitled to compensation. B'blam! You know. I love that commercial.

The attorney's the best. Yeah. So the next one I'm going to read is how my first real paycheck got me a ride a police cruiser. Oh no. Sounds great. I think my first real paycheck was like $40. All of us. Yeah. I love your podcast and I've been listening for years. In fact, when I wake up at some good, Godforsaken early hour of the morning, I'll frequently turn on an old favorite episode of yours to help me catch another hour or so of snoozing. Not that you're boring, just that the show feels so comfortable and cozy. Cozy. I think this qualifies me as a great A weirdo. It does.

I love that people think it's cozy and comfortable because I have comfort cozy things and I'm like, Wow, I'm that for someone. That's like really cool. That's cool. I don't think I'm comforting to most people. I feel like you are. You are. I attempted to send this listener tale to you a while ago, but given the amount of liquid courage I needed to type it out and share it, I may have failed to actually hit send and or typed in the email addressing correctly. It has now been edited with a clearhead, so I figured I'd give it another try. But if you did receive it previously and just haven't gotten to it yet, please throughout that first draft. It's definitely not as good as this pitiful. Enjoy and keep it weird. Betsy, feel free to use my name. love that name. I also love your dog. I was just going to say your puppies. I love when their little tongue hangs out the side of the mouth like that. So, this story starts on a warm California day in early October 2006. Oh, warm in October? No. No, thank you. It's California. I know. I know. I was four days into the job that I planned to make my career, thus making my first real job in my mind. On this particular morning, my husband had left on a five-day business trip. So I was feeling a bit

apprehensive about being home alone all week, but trying to keep a bright outlook. When I arrived at work, my supervisor passed out our paychecks since I had started with only two days left at the end of the pay period. So it wasn't much of a check, but I was still excited because it was my first paycheck that didn't come from a student job. After a perfectly normal workday, I stopped at the gym, like I typically did, but cut my workout. Get your fitness on. Cardio. I typically did, but cut my workout short because I wanted to stop at the ATM on the way home to get my check in the bank. Yes, I realize how nerdy this sounds, but I was super excited to finally have a job that I loved, and I'm about that nerd life.

I feel you. It was still fairly light out when I pulled into the supermarket parking lot where the ATM nearest to my house was located. The lot wasn't necessarily busy, but it certainly wasn't deserted. At this time, I drove a 1990 Nissan that had some irritating issues.

The worst being that the locks would frequently refuse to accept that my key was correct. I parked towards the middle of the lot, stepped out of the car, and spent a good minute or two trying to get my damn door locked. Just as this bitch finally gave in and locked, I took a step back to turn towards the market and felt something press into my back.

Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. I turned my head to see what I had possibly backed into and found myself looking at a hand holding a gun. The muzzle pressed into my ribs. Nope, nope, nope, nope. Don't look at me. Unlock the car was what I heard. And my body froze for what I felt like an hour, but was really only a second while I processed what was happening. Oh my God.

Unlock the car, he said again. I was still holding my keys and briefly considered dropping. them and kicking them under the car or checking them into the next row of parking spaces, but the pressure against my ribs made me think twice about it. And I decided complying was the safest option. I think you made the right choice, but I don't even know what the right choices in that situation. Neither do I.

I prayed that my car would cooperate with me this time, but as I tried to unlock the door, I found that shaky hands didn't help my cantankerist lock and key combo. I almost forgot the gunman behind me as I fought with my car. And when I heard him say, I said unlock the car, I hissed, back. I am trying. Amazing. But a prod of my gun, of the gun, quickly returned me to my fearful weakness. I finally got the car open again and I expected him to take the keys and go. So I was shocked when I heard him say, get in the car. No, thank you. No. Nope. Don't get in the car. I'd be like, I was actually just in it. You take it? Nope. You got it? It's all yours.

You want it? I didn't want it anymore. Cover your eyes and go, I don't see you. Get right in the car. That's what I was thinking. I was like, cover your eyes, toss the keys and say, hey, take it. It's all yours. Take it. I gotta go grocery shopping. I can't imagine being in this situation. No. I really can't. No. Again, choosing to comply, thinking I'll figure out a plan later. I crawled in and he told me to slide over the center console into the passenger seat. All the while holding the gun pressed against my side. That's so scary. You know, I don't think I've ever even seen a gun in real life. Really? Other than like on a police man's hip. Wow, that's wild. It's, they're scary. That's the thing. Like, I feel like I'm very, oh, I can't imagine. Yeah. Like, whether you're for or against. that I feel like it's there just a scary thing to behold. Yeah, it's like it could kill you in a literal second.

Yeah. I did what he told me. I did what he told me, but started churning over options about how I was going to get out of this mess. He slid into the driver's seat, calmly grabbed the keys. I left in the driver's side door lock and started the car. Don't look at me. I'm not going to hurt you. Funny.

The gun tells me a different story. I was thinking as we left the parking lot together. Honestly. Now this asshole never took his gun off my ribs while we drove. And he never stopped. talking, constantly telling me in various ways that I can't look at him, but he didn't mean any harm. That's also, I can't, like, if you tell me I can't do something, I have to do it. I'd be freaking out. I have to. Yeah. I had to bite my tongue to stop from yelling at him to just stop with his blathering

while I was doing my best to formulate my escape. As I was deliberately facing away from him and he was hopefully concentrating on driving one-handed, I started trying to signal my distress to the drivers and pedestrians as we were passing, but I was unsuccessful. I considered whether my pocket knife was in a handy place to grab, but remembered that I'd used it to open packages at work, and it was still in my pocket of my work shirt, currently at the bottom of the gym bag. Damn. I wanted to call 911 so the dispatcher could listen to what was going on and possibly track my phone, question mark.

But I was afraid that he would hear the dispatcher attempting to talk to me, so that was out. That's the thing. In those situations, you're like, oh, here's a good idea, but you're like, what if he knows, what if he finds out and what if he gets angry? Right. Sneaking a picture for future identification also flashed through my. mind, but my 2006 cell phone refused to not make the obnoxious shutterclose sound effect. So that was out as well. Yep. I wasn't wearing a seatbelt, so I figured my best bet would be just opening the

door and combat rolling out. Road rash and broken bones beats getting raped or shot in my book. Yep. Yep. This fucker broke into my musings by telling me to give him all the money I had. I slowly reached into my bag and pulled out my wallet. I currently had about 50 bucks in cash, along with the check that started this whole shebang. I pulled out 25 bucks and handed it over. because fuck this guy. He doesn't get everything I've got. Is that all of it? He asked. Yes. That's all you have. I said give me everything with another shove of his gun. That's all I've got. I swear. I lied, thinking to myself, what did he expect from a young chick driving driving a 16-year-old car and dirty gym clothes? The damn crown jewels? Seemingly satisfied, sucker. He continued driving and began repeating his, I'm not going to hurt you, shit. I'm like, then what the fuck are we doing? I'm like, then, can we stop? As I was wondering just how long I was going to be in his company and just what his ultimate. plan was, he pulled up to an empty lot in a neighborhood not too far from my own and told me to get out of the car. Stay there and don't look at me as I leave, he tells me. As I grab my gym

bag, this asshole isn't getting any more of my belongings if I can help it, and jump out of my car. He drives off as soon as I'm out and I just fell to my knees to take a deep breath and try to hold it together because I still have shit to do before I can fall apart. Oh my goodness. You're amazing because I would probably just fall apart. Seriously. I called my dad who lived in a neighboring city to ask him to meet me at my house because I'd been carjacked and didn't stay and couldn't stay home alone after what happened. He started to freak out, but I told him I needed to call 911 and can he just start heading to my house? Thanks, bye. Oh my God. If as a parent, I can't even fathom this? No. I then call 911 and explain my situation and where I was. The dispatcher tells me that she's

notified police and they will be with me soon. But in the meantime, can I tell her which way the suspect drove after letting me out of the car? I tell her he drove north on X Street. She tells me X Street runs east slash west. Did he go east or west? I would ship myself at that point and say he went left, Nancy. Yeah, I have no idea, Susie, okay? Like what the fuck is east west, north? I don't even, does the sunrise in the east? Who knows? Look at this bad bitch. I took a second to get my bearings. I was in shock after all, but replied, the street runs north south, and he drove north. Good for you. You know, they actually asked me one time, um, I needed like AAA on the highway and they were like, are you northbound or southbound? And I said one of the two that I thought I was going. And the guy was

late and I was like, why the fuck is he late? So I called the... He was on the other side of the highway. But then he got there and he's so nice. Shout out to AAA. Shout out to AAA. I've always had great experiences. Good job, Michael. Thank you. He tells me again that the street runs east-west and I start getting pissed. I am currently standing on X Street and I assure you it runs north, south, and he drove north. She started to argue with me again as the police car drove up. So I hung up on her and started to explain everything again to the very kind officer. You're also like, hi, I've just been carjacked? Can you not fucking argue with me?

He made sure that I was uninjured before asking me several questions regarding the incident, looking at the muzzle stamp on my t-shirt, and checked that I didn't have any underlying bruising, and then asked me which way the carjacker went. There was that thunder. I don't know if you heard it. Tired of arguing about cardinal directions. I just pointed in the direction. Not going to lie, I've got some petty glee when he got on the radio to announce that the

suspect, and I quote, drove north on X Street. Motherfucker! You were right. He then asked me if I had somewhere safe to stay, and I told him my dad was going to meet me at my house. He had me get in the passenger seat of his cruiser and drove me home. Nice. As he pulled into the driveway, my dog popped his set up in the window, and the cop asked, Is that your dog?

He looks like Scooby-Doo. He does look like Scooby-Doo. I've attached a photo of him, so you can judge for yourself. We say yes. It really broke the tension, and I started laugh crying in my hysteria. Since I didn't have my keys, I had to clamor through the dog door to let the cop in. I don't know how y'all feel about dog doors, but my dogs had. have proven themselves to be very protective.

And I frequently work very long days at my job and I can't afford to hire someone to let them out midday. I've never had a dog door. I don't love a dog door. They scare me, but, you know, do you? While giving a more thorough statement to my officer, my dad arrived and the PD found my car. The moron had ripped off the radio plate. He didn't steal the radio, just the face plate.

What a fucking amateur. Also, what a dick. Oh, and he stole a book of CDs. Oh, late. That's what he needed. That's happened to my friends before when we were in high school. that fucking book of CDs, it was like was a crown jewel. Yeah.

When somebody would steal it, it was like everything was gone. Well, thinking about it now, like going through those books of CDs, you know. But luckily left my keys in the ignition. So at least I didn't have to worry about changing my locks. I finished giving my statement loaded my cats and dogs into my dad's car because despite having my keys back, I still wasn't going to spend the night alone. No way. Once at my parents' house, I then had the joy of telling my frantic mother what had happened.

She loves drama and listen to my tale like I was a character on one of her soaps. hence the snarky tone. Honestly, that's the amazing. And then calling my husband and letting him know. He was distressed for me and wished he could come home, but he's the best because he's the best, but unfortunately he needed to keep his job before attempting to get some sleep. It didn't happen. But at least I was done talking about it for the next eight to ten hours.

The next day, nearly done, I swear, this part lightens the mood, so I thought you'd enjoy it. I got up early in the morning and called my supervisor. I told him that I was, quote, having car trouble. You were lying and was going to be late for work. My dad drove me home to drop off the animals and then to the rental agency so I could get a car to drive until my car was sprung out of the evidence lot. When I got into work, my supervisor asked if I got my car working. I told him I had to get a rental and he replied, oh man, that's the worst. I chuckled and got to work.

You're like, yeah, you don't even know. Yeah, certainly is the worst. I was struggling mentally and having trouble keeping up my everything's fine masks, so I knew I would have to clue in my co-workers to see. So if I needed a mental break, they would understand. Luckily, we had a staff meeting scheduled for that afternoon, so I figured it would be a great way to tell everyone all at once. My bosses finish up the main portion of the meeting and ask if anyone has anything they want to add. I raise my hand. Remember, I'm currently on day five of this job. Oh, no, I forgot about that.

And tell everyone. I wanted to let everyone know that I was carjacked at gunpoint yesterday, so if I need to walk away to collect myself, that's why. I'm screaming. They're like, okay, new girl. Everyone just stared, and I wished I could melt into the floor. I don't like being the center of a lot. attention in the best circumstances and I really hate being pitied. So this was a nightmare. My boss finally called for the end of the meeting and everyone wandered off back to work. Later, I overheard my supervisor talking to one of the bosses saying, quote, she just told me she

was having car trouble. She was, okay. P.S. I did make that job my career and I've since been promoted to a team leader. I mean, you showed up to work the day after being carjacked at gunpoint. You deserved that. I make sure all my coworkers know that I'm always available to talk or listen if they're struggling with anything. I love you. I had to fight hard to build this culture at work, including one of my now ex-co-workers threatening to show up at my home with a gun. Jesus, what is up with people? Yeah. Yes, she was at the staff meeting mentioned above, but she was also a massive see you next Tuesday. Yeah, she was a coon. PPS, ironically, I had been an intensive therapy for 18 months prior to getting carjacked, anxiety disorder, childhood BS that fucked me up,

and PTSD from being sexually assaulted in high school. I'm so sorry you went through that. But my therapist had moved out of state a month before this event. This meant that I was actually in the best mental state of my entire life when this bastard abducted me. I think this is why I was able to keep a clear head and make plans instead of just having an anxiety attack and falling apart. I agree. And she says,

please look into therapy if you have past traumas and or mental health issues. Because you never know what life is going to throw at you and it's best to be ready to face it head on. True. Sorry for the lengths, but I hope you enjoyed my story. It took me a long time to work up the courage to put it paper. find the humor in it. Keep it weird. That was wild. What a story. Betsy. My goodness gracious, y'all.

Your dog is such a smushy baby too. And he does look like Scooby-dubidoo. Where are you? He's right there. He's in your house. He's got some work to do though. He does have some work to do. And he's doing it. He's doing it, doing it, doing it well. So many songs. So many tales. What a great time. And with that, because the thunder is about to probably turn off our power for us. Don't ever fucking manifest things like that. Well, I mean, you hear it. No, I do. It's coming down out there.

I know. I'm scared. We're going to head out after that. And thank you for ending it on like a Scooby-Doo moment. Yeah, we needed that. That was nice. Those were intense, guys. Those were harrowing.

All of them were harrowing. Every single one. Like, different levels of harrowing. Yeah. I'm going to go have a wine night with my friends now. And I'm going to have dinner. So thanks for sending these in. Make sure that you keep sending them in because we love them.

They're amazing. They're terrifying. They're funny. They're heartwarming. They're everything we could ever ask for. Just make sure you title listener tail and whatever your heart desires to title it. And send to Morbid Podcast at gmail.com. Do it.

We hope you keep listening. And we hope you keep it weird. But on the way that you move to New Hampshire and then the guy shows up at your house and he doesn't fix your car. You actually does everything but fix your car. And I'm really scared for you and I hope everything works out. definitely not so weird that you hire Bob to fix your friends because we all know how that's going to turn out. Do keep it so weird that your grandpa has a wild tale to tell you about the time he made music with potentially Charlie fucking Manson question mark. Whoa.

And do keep it so weird that your dog looks like Scooby-Doo and you can keep your shit together while you're being fucking carjacked and then you go to work the next day and then you're a mental health advocate. You guys are fucking awesome. Rock stars. Rock on.