My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 216

Episode Date: March 1, 2021

This week’s hometowns include grandpa stories and games with a serial killer.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

This is exactly right. We at Wondery live, breathe, and downright obsess over true crime. And now we're launching the ultimate true crime fan experience, Exhibit C. Join now by following Wondery, Exhibit C, on Facebook and listen to true crime on Wondery and Amazon Music. Let's see, it's truly criminal. Hello. And welcome to my favorite murder.

The mini-soad. It's a miniature. You know this little thing? Yeah. And we're actually recording it for the fan cult video style. What's up fan cult? Fan cult with the visual play. What's the thing like the extra thing they give you and what'd you say?

Bonus aspect. It's a bonus aspect for sure. I have a makeup on, which is a rarity these days. We really got ready, although I was going to say just for the bonus, I'm sorry, just for the fan cult, I have not died my roots in a while, so I do have like a Polly Walnuts kind of look that only the fan cult gets to see. I feel like it's like a Grey's Grosven studio type of thing. Yes.

You mean because James Lipton's here? Exactly. The dead body of James Lipton, only for the fan cult. That's right. You're welcome. Question mark. All right. Why don't you go first just to change it up this week?

Okay. Sounds great. I'm going to go first. I'm going to change with a murderer. Hey, Karen and Georgia. My friends have been asking me to email you my hometown murderer story for some time, and after listening to your podcast, I thought, well, why not? I mean, seriously.

It can't be that bad. Yeah. You consider it for a while, then just do it. So here's my story. Growing up, I lived in a small town near the top of Texas, about 800 people total. And I was about six, my brother, five, and I were staying the night with my grandparents. Sunday morning, a strange man walked into our church for church service. He told all of us that he was biking across America to raise money for charity.

I forgot the exact charity. This year, the year is 2000. My grandparents are just the nicest people you'll ever meet. And being those people, they invite him to come to lunch with us at their home. He is just the friendliest person you'll ever meet. So friendly, in fact, that he ends up staying later than planned. My papa invites him to also spend the night in Ardenne, and he can begin his biking journey after breakfast the next morning.

Kindness is stranger, you know? You can just feel this is a bad idea of building. And it gets worse. But... Can you believe it? He ends up playing cards with all of us. I remember him losing our game of go fish. He even picked up my little brother and spun him around like an airplane.

We didn't expect anything as he didn't give us any inclination of what was to come. Now let's set the scene of where this man stayed while all of us were sleeping. My grandparents' den. The den is where my papa kept his huge collection of knives and guns. While they were all in cases, some of those cases remained unlocked because the children were over, right? And maybe they were going to need a... Just to kind of have an open vibe of like, what's ours is yours.

Yeah. You know, open concept living space? Now this is open concept, gun and knife cabinet space. Gun cases, yeah. It's the new HGTV craze. Okay. Um... Remained unlocked.

In the morning, Scott began his bike journey. It was only after some time that we learned that the man who would stay with us was Scott Eisenberg. Eisenberg. And he had gone on a murder spree in Oklahoma less than a week after staying with us and less than a hundred miles away. Oh, shit. Since I was young, I don't remember much of the process the police went through to catch

him. My mom and grandma later told me it was one of the largest man hunts in Oklahoma history. In complete honesty, my brain blocks out most of this memory. I have a difficult time remembering his name and have to ask my mom for details anytime a friend wants to hear the story. Maybe it's due to being young when this happened or maybe some repressed trauma. So they didn't say their name, but so I looked it up. And this asshole, Scott Eisenberg, he brutally murdered a 76-year-old man named A.J.

Kentrell and his 70-year-old wife, Patsy, and then because he had been in their house because he was spying on his ex-girlfriend who lived across the street. So I think they must have come home. He killed that brutally and then went across the street and killed his ex-girlfriend's 16-year-old son and beat the grandmother. Oh, my God. And then he went on a 37-day manhunt and he took some nice family, drove him somewhere not knowing, and they ended up pulling a gun on him and shooting him.

So he got caught. Wait. They did? They pulled the gun on him? Yeah. Oh, my God. Shot him. He took off.

The police caught up with him. 37-day manhunt. How fucking terrifying. It's horrifying. Also, it's horrifying that it's grandparent-age people that he did that to. Exactly. I know. I mean, it's child.

It's a 16-year-old child. It's brutal. So he's still in prison. I think he's on death row. Wow. Yeah. That's the end? That's it?

She didn't even say her name. She's just like, I think I might be traumatized, but, and then just got up and ran away. All it says is just a bunch of Z's for three pages. Hey, look, if that is the case, so be it, and that's fine because that is, I mean, that's really scary. It's so scary. It's like- It's so scary.

And to think about how to have a close call. I can no wonder she didn't put us on the details in. It's like the close call that you had is, I mean- No, that's bone chilling. I'm so happy that it turned out fine. I mean, that your parents- It was for grandparents. That your grandparents' generosity was not, and the room full of guns and knives, that

none of that even was a part of the story. I'm very grateful. I thought it was going to go differently. Yeah. Okay. This just says hometown story. I grew up in a pretty rural area where driving your four-wheeler to the store was a common thing and kids rode tractors for fun.

My great uncle gave me the creeps as a child. He was an alcoholic, not the first alcoholic I encountered, but definitely the only one to make me nervous. I couldn't put my finger on it, but my six-year-old gut told me to stay away. He would offer me a dollar if I would shake his hand, which I would politely decline over and over until I found the courage to slowly walk over, snatch the dollar, and run like hell. Yes.

When I was eight, he developed cancer, could no longer take care of his puppy, and asked if I wanted her. I loved this dog more than anything, so I obviously said yes. She was my absolute best friend and lived to be 20. Rewind 15 years to when my dad was a teenager. My great uncle, his uncle, showed up at my dad's house with his dog. He was drunk and offered my dad his dog for the price of 10 cents. Growing up in a rural area, the more dogs the merrier.

So my dad ran, found a dime, gave it to his uncle, and then gave the... Who then gave the dog a pat on the head, said goodbye, and left. The next morning, the police called, asking for my dad, questioning him about his uncle and the dog. After selling my dad his dog, he went home, waited for his wife to come home, and when she walked in the door, he shot her in the face, killing her, and then went about his evening as if nothing happened. Oh my God.

They lived in a trailer park, so a gunshot is easily heard. The police were called, and he was arrested. After my dog passed, my parents decided to tell me this history of abuse, alcoholism, and depression my uncle had, and the two few years he spent in jail for that murder. It made so much sense why six-year-old me got the creeps from this man, but still confuses me to this day why my family welcomed him back into their lives so lovingly. SSDGM, and if a murderer offers you their dog, you should probably take it, Marie. It's just so, it is so, I would question my parents that let this murderer, convicted

murderer, around children, you know, and I don't know if they were ever alone with him, but either way, it's like, predator to predator, you know? It doesn't sound like they were alone though, I mean like, but also that's that kind of thing of like family systems and what people are used to, if it already happened in their family or if that was a thing, I mean, you know, it's just kind of like the water level must have been at a thing where guns and abuse maybe, I don't know. Well, I think for like, you and I don't have this problem, but there are a lot of families that's so interesting to me, like what is off-limits to talk about and even acknowledge, just like

there's no talk about periods, there's no talk about sex, there's no talk about your murder or uncle, you know, like we don't talk about that. Yeah, you just, well, yes, that very true, like it could have been the healthiest family in the world, but they were just like, he's gonna, he's here, we don't want him to be here, it's the so-and-so's birthday, so just let the kids do what they want and, you know, who knows? Cause as a six year old, they don't know that maybe every eye at the party was on that uncle every time.

I mean, who knows? We can't assume the worst. All right, this just is hometown, but this is a grandpa and a fire story, so two and one. Uh, hometown story. I heard an episode where Georgia talked about someone lighting their kitchen on fire and decided I should send in the time. My grandfather almost killed my sister and me.

When I was about eight years old, my sister and I, she was six, went to my grandparents' house, this is another grandparents' house story, for a week during the summer. My grandparents lived in Wichita Falls, Texas, another grandparents' Texas story. I don't even love it. I picked these. I don't mind it. I bet you that it's the majority of our inbox now. We've asked for it so many times.

Which is about four hours away from where my parents lived. One afternoon, my Nana was at work, so it was my grandpa's job to make us some lunch. My grandpa decided to fry up some french fries on the stove in a cast iron pan full of oil. He was an old truck driver who was never home, so this was out of the ordinary. I guess while he was getting everything ready, he realized he didn't have any bread for sandwiches, so he left us home alone to run the store. There are eight and six, and there's a fryer of hot oil on the stove. This is going where you think it's going.

You've seen this PSA, Bugs Bunny walks in and points to the stove and is like, stay away from this. That's right. Horrifying. I was laying upside down on the side of the couch in the living room, watching the only kids movie they had, the Goofy Movie, when I saw smoke covering the ceiling. I walked into the kitchen. I love the visual of her lying upside down on the side of the couch, which is something

you can only do as a kid, because the back pain now would be horrendous. When I saw smoke covering the ceiling, I walked to the kitchen and the entire kitchen stove and wall was engulfed in flames. Engulfed in flames is the scariest thing to walk into. You've done that. The scariest three words in the English language, right? I realized I needed to call 911, but I didn't know my grandparents address, so I panicked and called my parents, who were four hours away.

Oh, Jesus Christ. By the time I finished scaring the shit out of my mother, my grandpa came running in through the back door that was located in the kitchen. He began screaming at us to go out the front door. My grandparents lived in an old house where the front door would constantly get stuck, so no one would ever use it. So there, my sister and I were trying with all of our tiny kid's strength to open the front door that never opened.

Oh, shit. I don't remember how exactly we got out, but my grandpa was rushed to the hospital with burns all up his arms from grabbing the cast iron of oil that he left on the stove and throwing it outside. Because you can't put it out with water, right? No. It makes it worse. He would have needed a bag of flour.

But if we're using the phrase engulfed in flames, which we are, then I think that's when you get out of the house and the fire department has to do it for you. It's not worth saving if you're going to get... You're just going to fuck it up. A grease fire, get away. Yeah. I mean... Your dad taught you that.

I should call Jim right now and just get the confirmation on what exactly the protocol is. In the grease fires, you have to throw flour, dirt, baking soda. Is it baking soda? There's some things that you have to make sure it's not something that's going to react, but it has to like douse it entirely and water makes it worse. The thing though is if fire is on a wall, get out. You have to get out.

Because it's not... You throwing the grease out isn't going to put the wall fire out, you know? Yeah. You're going to start one problem, which is what happened to the grandpa, he got grease on himself. Getting hot grease. I mean... It's all right.

Yeah. Okay. Luckily, only the kitchen was completely torched and not the rest of the house. Oh, good. Apparently, my grandpa had gone to two different gas stations looking for a loaf of bread to feed us because truck drivers love gas stations, I guess. Stay sexy and don't leave oil on the stove, Brittany Nicole. No.

Yeah. Oh my God. And my third story is a grandpa story too. What the fuck did I do this week? Do you miss your grandparents? Oh. Is it one of those? No.

It's a little... We all need a little homie-grandparent vibe. Yeah. What was I going to say? Oh, I remember my friend Bradford, who's a very good cook and now works at exactly, right? Teaching me. I was like, just teach me some basics. Just make it so that I could make myself a casual dinner if I felt like it.

So he was teaching me how to make some recipe he makes all the time. And he was like, so, you know, here's a pan and we're going to throw this butter in it and whatever. And then... And we were kind of standing there talking and then I just walked away and went into something and it's like, Karen, you can't walk away. And I was like, wait, what? And he's like, yeah, if you're doing this by yourself, you can't leave the area.

And I was like, really? That's step one of cooking. He's like, you have to cook. You have to stand there and do it. And not like... I mean, because that is me completely or just kind of get distracted like, wait, did I write in my journal this morning? Oh, I thought it was something to put on my to-do list.

Let me do that. No, I can't get that. I just get so stressed out by the sound of sizzling. That's like one of the things that like, like makes me stress. So I'm just like, I hover when I cook, so I'm the complete opposite thing where I can't walk away. You can't walk away. I get so stressed out and scared.

You need to do much more boiling. Okay. But have you ever boiled water and then forgot about it and boiled it out and then your pot's hot? I've done that for sure. Part boiled eggs and then you leave for three hours. There's so many, it's like, if you're engaging the oven and this is, you know, we're pretending to say it to other people, but this is truly for myself, like if you're in near the oven

and using it, that's all you're doing for the, for block out two hours and just be like, this is the only thing I'm allowed to do. Set a timer for every 10 minutes, so in case you walked away and an alarm's like, dude, what are you doing? You're like, what am I doing? You're just wandering in the yard. Hey, Siri. Let's see.

Hi all. After having listened to you guys for years, seeing you live twice and wanting to share some sort of story with you, I finally decided to steal one from my mom because she had a far more interesting life than I imagine I ever will. So in honor of the late Joanne, here we go, Joanne, pour one out for Joanne and all Joanne's. My mom was a beautiful person inside and out. She was a tiny thing, but also someone you would well be advised to not fuck with. Being the young knockout that she was in the toxic masculinity playground of the seventies,

she had plenty of stories to share about men who are not on their best behavior. One of my favorites is when she was leaving the grocery store while largely pregnant with my brother. This would have been in 1975 when she was 27 years old, quite petite and all belly. Because she made her way to her bright yellow Mustang, a man whistled to get her attention. Turning around, she saw him sitting in his truck with the door open, turned to face her and masturbating vigorously. She said she was certain that when he saw her from behind approaching that Mustang, he didn't

expect the pregnant belly when she turned, but he was now fully committed to his disgusting endeavor. Oh my God. During the ever badass that she was and used to creepy seventies dudes, she pointed at him and began to laugh hysterically. It certainly wasn't the reaction he was going for and overcome with what I can only assume was all-consuming shame and embarrassment. He slammed his truck door and took off.

She loaded her groceries and carried on about her day, irritated, but I'm sure consoled by the fact that she had at least managed to somewhat emasculate him. When she told me this story, she always said that shock is what someone like that is going for. And then if I ever found myself in a similar situation to not give it to them, laughing at them, she said was my best option. Fortunately, I've never had to find out firsthand. My mom has been gone for many years now after a battle with brain cancer.

But I still love retelling some of her amazing stories and only wish I was half as fucking cool as she was. Maybe I'll write in again with the tale of how she kicked out a couple who had been staying in her apartment after they shot a hole in her TV, only to have the FBI come looking for them after. Stay sexy and don't be afraid to shame public masturbators. Lindsay. Oh.

Lindsay, thank you for sharing a story about your mother. I love that. That's a piece of advice you have to give people. I know. Here's the thing. Don't be afraid. If someone's jerking off at you in the grocery store parking lot, it's your right to laugh at them.

Shame. Shame. Bro, shame at them. Ring the shame bell. That's right. Looking for a better cooking routine? With meal planning, shopping, and prepping handled, Hello Fresh has you covered. Hello Fresh makes home cooking easy and affordable so you can stay on track and on budget in

the new year. Hello Fresh meals are convenient, seasonal, and delicious. Stay cozy all winter long with classic comfort foods available weekly. Why stop with just dinner? Now you can enjoy Hello Fresh's expanded menu of quick lunch solutions, weekend brunch, simple side dishes, and amazing desserts. Karen, January is going to be my month for Hello Fresh. I am so sick of takeout.

I miss cooking so much I haven't lifted a knife or a pan since early fall. So I can't wait to get back in the kitchen and Hello Fresh makes it so easy and also makes it so that my food tastes good, which is hard to do on my own. It gives you everything, everything you need. You'll get up to 20 free meals with purchase plus free shipping on your first box at hellofresh.ca slash murder20 with code murder20. That's up to 20 free meals plus free shipping on your first box when you go to hellofresh.ca slash murder20 and use code murder20.

Goodbye. What makes a person a murderer? Are they born to kill or are they made to kill? I'm Candace DeLong, and on my new podcast Killer Psyche Daily, I share a quick 10-minute rundown every weekday on the motivations and behaviors of the criminal masterminds, psychopaths, and cold-blooded killers you hear about in the news. I have decades of experience as a psychiatric nurse, FBI agent, and criminal profiler. On Killer Psyche Daily, I'll give you insight into cases like Ryan Grantham and the newly

arrested Stockton Serial Killer. I'll also bring on expert guests to dive deeper into the details, share what it's like to work with a behavioral assessment unit at Quantico, answer some killer trivia, and even host virtual Q&As where I'll answer your burning questions. Hey, Prime members, listen to the Amazon Music Exclusive Podcast, Killer Psyche Daily, in the Amazon Music app. Download the app today. Okay, this is my last one's called Treasure After My Grandpa's Death.

And it just starts, hey, hey. My grandpa, Perry, was born in 1920. He served in the Army during World War II as a cook, and then later in life helped build rockets at Rocket Dine in LA. Wow. He and my dad built a house in the 1960s on some land in Lancaster, California. The house was small, but it had five acres of desert around it. It reminds me of the Perry Mason show.

Oh, yeah. Where he lived out there. He lived at that ranch? Yeah. He used some of the land to grow fruit trees, have a garden, a large barn slash garage, and a dune buggy track in the back. Cool. Cool.

Side note, he loved to take anyone out for a ride on the dune buggy right up until the end. The rest of the property was just open land. My grandpa passed away just a month shy of his 90th birthday in March 2010. My dad had hid from us that he had been sick thinking it was nothing and not wanting to worry us. So it came as a huge shock to me and my four siblings when we were called. I will never forget that day standing in my second grade classroom waiting for the day

to start. So she was the teacher, not the second grader, by the way. Oh, okay. After his death, my dad went to help clean out the barn and get rid of the things my grandma didn't want anymore so she could move to my parents' house in Washington. This is where it gets interesting. Since my grandpa grew up in the Depression, he didn't trust banks. Oh, he actually didn't get a bank account until he married my grandma in 1980.

My dad wanted to start with the barn since it was just full to the brim with things. A little while after starting, he grabbed a mason jar that looked like it had just looked like it just had baggies folded up inside. Curious to know what was in the bags. He opened the jar and found bags with tightly rolled bills inside. Never throw anything away without inspecting it, no matter what. Open every bag, shake out every book. I once was in a state sale, you could tell it was like a really old person and I got

one of those like Vintage Sampsonite beauty traveling cases and it was full of old aspirin bottles and bandage, like old stuff so I was excited to go through it. And in the very back was a $20 bill from like the 60s and then like a traveler's check worth like $20. But they were both like from the 60s, I put them right back in there and like put it away. That's treasure. Yeah, treasure. So never fucking throw anything away.

Be a hoarder. So, tightly rolled bills inside. He walked in the house to my grandma and told her what he found and she was shocked. This happened day after day as he was extra carefully cleaning things out, I'm sure now. Tens, twos, fives, tens, 20s, fives and hundreds were found. Jesus. The pile of money on the kitchen table was growing very rapidly when all was carefully searched through in between book pages and toolboxes really anywhere and everywhere.

Organized and cleaned out the total amount of money that he had hidden was just over $19,000. Oh my God. Yeah. Oh my God. Oh my God. How many grand he had been sneaking out just squirreling it away every time he went out there.

Oh my God. And like not telling anyone to look carefully through shit when he died. Yeah. Just tell one person, tell your wife. Tell your wife. Someone you trust. Absolutely. Then it says, holy moly, I love the thought that he wanted my grandma to be taken care

of and would stash away whatever extra cash he had on hand. He was the kindest, sweetest man and would have done anything for my grandma. I wish my grandpa knew just how much I wanted to call him and tell him I was expecting our first, finding out just a month after he passed. Anywho, thank you for taking the time to read my story. Thanks for all you do, SSDGMK. That's awesome. That's amazing.

19 grand. But you know, just it's always hard to lose parent to grandparent, but living to 90 is this ripe old age. I mean, that is a nice life. That's a great... That's a great life. And it's always nice when a nice old person lives that old, because it's always the mean curmudgeony ones that live to be 100, and you're like, well, I couldn't have my grandma

live to be 100. She was fucking nice, Grandma Molly, you know? Well, it's harder to be nice as you get older because all your pains and your arthritises and you're sick of people and you don't understand how computers work and kids these days. It's this long, like, you know how like a lot of us feel about TikTok, that's how the entire world feels to old people, where you're just like, what is it? I don't... How did you even make that?

Yeah. Okay. This is the last one, right? Mm-hmm. Okay. So many good ones this time. All right. I'll do this one.

Starts. What the fuck is up, guys? So when I was roughly nine years old, a group of around six kids, including my younger brother and myself, would just wander the city and look for trouble, right? At one point we even hid in my dad's van and threw balls of mud and wrapped in paper towels at moving cars in hopes they'd stop at our makeshift car wash we had set up. Oh my God. That is, whoever thought, whatever child thought of that was a genius, a marketing genius.

Create a problem and then create a solution for it. And then create that solution and fill that niche in your neighborhood. Oh, but wait, there's more. But after about three mud balls, it became more about throwing mud balls versus actually washing cars. Yeah. One unlucky man had his window down, which led to a mud ball. I had thrown blasting him right in the face all over his white shirt.

Let's just assume he was not pleased. He was not pleased. You're lucky you didn't get your ass beat. That's right. On one particular day, we were playing in the alley. When I decided I needed more attention and then in parentheses, I'm obviously a middle child. So I contrived a plan.

I brilliantly decided I would convince my friends that I was being kidnapped. Oh my God. Children are insane people. This is my favorite though. This is that kind of thing. This is the way my mind worked as a child because we were alone. We were left alone a lot or in groups. And it would just be that thing of watching Spider-Man and eating pretzels is not enough

for me. I want more. I need to be engaged with. I'm a young, fertile mind and I need to pretend I'm being kidnapped. I crave adventure in being kidnapped. Okay. So I ran into one of the nearby breezeways when nobody was looking and began to yell for help.

Oh my God. Since all of the kids were around my age, it didn't take much convincing. As they'd run over toward me, I'd make it seem as if I was being pulled away and yell for help even though I'm here. What a little shit. What a fucking genius. I'd give them a glimpse of my face around the corner of a building with my hands grappling along the sides of the wall and then pretend to be ripped away.

I love this person. Genius actor. My plan was working. All eyes were on me. Finally, I had the genius idea to hide in an abandoned garage and wait for them to find me, but they didn't. After a while, I noticed that I couldn't hear them anymore, so I walked around the block looking for them, but I couldn't find them anywhere.

After about 15 minutes of looking, I decided it'd be best to go home and wait, ready to laugh in their faces about how well I'd tricked them. When I got home, I was greeted by all of my friends and my brother crying in my living room. I mean, that's good acting. If only James Lipton was here. I was just going to say, let's get this kid inside the actors studio. Okay, crying in the living room, telling my parents I had been kidnapped.

My parents were pacing the living room in a panic just about to walk out the front door to look for me themselves when I walked in. Needless to say, their fear quickly switched to anger, and I was not allowed to go back outside that day. I grew up in a dangerous city plagued with violent crimes, so as an adult, I can see how this could have been believable for even my parents. I can't imagine how terrifying it must have been for them in those moments that I was quote unquote missing.

For a split second, they had to live with the reality that they might never see me again. To this day, I still shamefully laugh every time I think about it and pray my future children aren't as big of an asshole as I used to be. Stay sexy and just know that if you stage your own kidnapping, you won't be allowed back outside for the rest of the day. Sam from Reading, Pennsylvania. P.S., I too have an older sister who used to smash me up with a brush and would threaten to kill me in my sleep if I didn't stop playing with her toys.

I fully relate to Karen's battles with Laura about trying to wear her clothes as younger sisters got to stick together. Amazing job, Sam. Sam from Reading. Sam, the thing I think about the most of that is that the parents are like, you have to stay home the rest of the day, but we need you to leave. You don't get granted for a week because then you're stuck at home with us for a week. We just can't deal with that.

And the shit you come up with and the ways you need attention, you have to get out of here. You need to go out. It's for our own sanity. I mean, I just wish I'd been in that group of kids. Remember when you were little and then stuff would happen? Things would happen that would change. It was just like you're playing, playing, and then a scary thing or a weird thing or whatever,

and you'd be like, as a group of children. This is the thing we have to do. Oh my God. And that would actually have been really fucked up and scary. Yeah. I can't remember doing that. A child slowly being pulled around a corner of all four corners of a building. Just in a circle, the kidnapper is just going in a circle and it is a circle.

Where is he taking me? Over here. Over here. Oh my God. That's hilarious. Well, that was a great batch. That was. I mean, good stuff.

Send your stories to my favorite murder at Gmail. We want to hear them. And any and all topics are welcome and wanted and will be, will be given the attention a middle child deserves. Right. Finally. Finally, you get the attention. Finally, you'll be, you'll be the, the rare cherished middle child at this podcast.

Right. Imagine. Yeah. Else this would stay sexy. And don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie? Okay.