My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 257

Episode Date: December 13, 2021

This week’s hometowns include an irresponsible ancestor and disgraced creamed corn. See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

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, Exhibit C. It's truly criminal. Hello and welcome to my favorite murder. The mini-soad. It's mini. We read you your shit. Here we go. You've sent it into us. I'm gonna start. Okay. Is that all right? I was hoping. Okay, good. Greetings. It just starts greetings. Hi. When I turned 17, I got my first legit job at a local surf skate shop in San Diego called San Diego. Oh, man, going for it. Didn't see it coming. Yeah, that got you. That one got you. It's stupid and great. Yeah, I love it. It's just

easy. It's right there. There it is. It's brilliant in its ease. Sometimes you got to go with the first thing you think of. Which is like the embodiment of San Diego. It's just like kind of don't bother. Yeah, we did it. Easy does it. It's like, here's the name moving on. Yeah, moving on because so we can go get drunk later. Right. The job was commission based and highly competitive, aka the worst kind of job for someone who is a shy introvert and just wants everyone to be happy and get along. One afternoon, a woman came into the store, long hair that was unkempt, baggy pants that looked three times her size, held up by a belt, an oversized sweatshirt, and flighty avoidant eyes. I immediately got a weird vibe and decided to let someone else help her.

Despite my being hundreds of dollars behind the mark that I needed to hit to make commission that month. God, you're giving me flashbacks to working on Melrose. There was this model I worked with who was so chatty and good at it. Yeah. And I was just like, I don't care what you buy. Yeah, buy whatever you want. Yeah. And you were, were you also working on commission? Yeah. And I hated every moment of it. Horrible. Same with me, but at the gap where it wasn't commissioned, it was just you were going to get like your 650. Right. Either way. And I was always just like, do you need socks? And people would be like, I don't want to, I don't need to buy anything else. I'd be like, I have to ask you. Yeah. I'm literally obligated to try to add socks

on, stop making it a fight. Okay. As the woman was browsing the store, another fellow 17-year-old coworker of mine, let's call her Julia, asked if she could start the woman a fitting room. The woman agreed and continued collecting clothing items to try on. When the woman was finally ready to try on the garments, Julia escorted her to the very back corner of the store where the dressing rooms were located next to our employee break room and the emergency exit. Once they were at the dressing rooms, Julia asked if she could count her items. Reluctantly, the woman handed over her remaining garments and watched my coworker count. After trying about 25 items, the woman handed over about half the garments, not on hangers,

and immediately started to walk away. My coworker yelled in hesitation, excuse me, ma'am. Without hesitation, the woman turned around, lunged toward my coworker, and held a pocket knife to her throat. Oh my God. Luckily, I witnessed this encounter and calmly said over our store-wide earpiece slash walkie-talkie. And then in parentheses, it says, picture pop star Britney Spears mic. Oh yeah. This is like a head mic. Oh, touching your ear. Yeah. We need help back at the dressing rooms. As I stared at Julia, I lost my sense of time and held my breath. My manager, let's call him Bob, emerged from the staff break room and launched into the most fierce sprint toward this woman with his arms up as if he were attacking a bear. Oh my God. The woman released Julia and

started running in the other direction back into the store dot dot dot towards me. No. I quickly leapt out of the way and moved behind a clothing rack. By the time I moved, Bob had tackled the woman and removed the weapon from her hand. When the police arrived, they were able to retrieve five pairs of pants, eight shirts, and three jackets off the woman's body that were hidden under her oversized clothing. She was arrested and Bob was equally reprimanded and congratulated by the police for catching the shoplifter. Bob said, all I could think about was my three year old daughter and how Julia was someone's three year old daughter. I didn't think I just reacted. I can't help but be so thankful for the way

this story played out. It taught me to trust my gut, remain calm and stressful situations, and that sometimes acting crazier than a crazy person can end up potentially saving lives. And then in parentheses, it says and $700 worth of store merchandise, I guess. Stay sexy and don't work retail, Tara. Wow. It's like your 17 year old, you get $4 an hour job and then that happens. That's terrifying. It's horrifying. But also the... Yeah. It's like all she said was, excuse me, ma'am. So it's not like she was doing the thing we talked about last time, which is like don't run after or don't, whatever. And it's just like, no, that lady knew she was doing bad and yeah. Trying to escape. That's so crazy. That's terrifying. Wow. Great job, Bob. The

Bob's of the world. Thank God for you. Yeah. All right. This one's called a murderous uncle and my drunk psychic boyfriend. It just starts insert witty and gushing opening statement here. Check. Check. Mark, this is a rather long story involving murder, young love, and a drunk Scotsman. Hmm. It was 2012 and I was 27 living in Birmingham, UK, and in a semi-long distance relationship with a guy from Scotland, he was coming to visit me at my home and knowing him as I did, I stuck the house with red wine and whiskey. We spent a lovely night in drinking and chatting and drinking and drinking and drinking. Dot, dot, dots were in it. That's the best way. Uh huh. On about his fifth bottle of red wine. That sounds impossible. Horrifying. The acid

alone would eat your lower body. Oh God. My boyfriend stopped me mid-sentence and announced that he occasionally has psychic flashes and he was having a very strong one about my family. He said that my mom had nine brothers and that one of them had once murdered his wife and another person. What? Slightly perturbed, I said, whilst it was weird that my mom had eight brothers and he was close on that count, categorically none of them had ever murdered anyone. He said that I was wrong and we moved on. I'm sorry, if you say that with a Scottish accent, fine, but if not, go fuck yourself. You're wrong. The next day when he'd left, my mom called to ask how they went. I laughingly explained he'd creep me out and told her what he'd said to

which my mom replied all caps. How on earth did he know about that? Yes. It turned out I had an extra uncle whom I'd never been told about who in 1976 walked in on his wife sleeping with another man and promptly murdered them both with a shotgun before going on the run for two weeks. He was eventually caught and served 15 years in prison before moving to Spain and dying in suspicious circumstances there. Then it says, fun fact, a lot of ex-con Brits moved to Spain and get involved with organized crime there. Yes. There was actually... Sorry, I was just going to say there's a great movie. Which one? Starring Ben Kingsley. Organized crime in Spain. It's called... Yep. You gotta watch it. PG-13. Shit. I'll think of it. I'll think of it by the...

Tom. There was absolutely no explainable way my boyfriend could have known this. The only mention I can find on the internet is a notice of my uncle's conviction and he has a different surname to me and my mom and the entire family had sworn itself to secrecy over the whole thing. Whilst this was ultimately creepy and made my mom never want to meet this boyfriend, my murdering of a brain was rather excited and despite the weirdness of it all, I kept dating him for another six months because, hey, a guy's got to eat, right? Marry that guy. Absolutely. You can see the truth in the past and the future. That's right. What do you want? Well, it says I'm now happily married to a psychiatrist and then it says,

read into that what you will. And the family murder secret is now known by all. Oh. Your podcast has absolutely changed my life and I thank you so much for sharing your true selves with the world. Oh. Stay sexy and don't piss off my uncle's Martin he him. Martin. Marty. Marty. Marty. A, that movie is called Sexy Beast. If you've never seen it, you've got to see it. Great. I don't know. That might have just moved into my top 10 hometowns. I really love any kind of thing like that that's like sorry, like six cents and shit like that's real. Yeah. Yeah. It absolutely is. People know stuff. People know more than you think they know.

I hope that's just he was so, he was 100% correct. I love him being correct about his own family. Like it's not even, he's just like, no, you're wrong about your family. You're wrong about your own family. I know better than you. Yeah. Come on. That's it. Marry that man. He knows better than you. The fucking Scottish accent. Hot. All right. So hot. That makes me think of that viral video of the Scottish guy that woke up in somebody else's house laughing his ass off and explaining how he, he thought he was coming to a party. Remember that video? The Scottish guy laughing his ass off and telling a story about how he got super drunk, thought he was going to his friend's house for

a party, got to this lady's house, was so shitfaced that he was like, is this a party? And she's like, no, honey, there's no party here. And then he passed out on our couch and woke up and she was like, do you need a cup of tea doll or whatever? And he couldn't stop laughing. And then she couldn't stop laughing. And he's like, it was, it's the best. Well, I'll look it up. All of us will look it up. Everybody go look it up and then get back to me on how you feel about it. I'm not going to read you the subject line on this one. Okay. Hello, OG murderinos. Oh, hi. Yeah. I was listening to one of your recent home towns about a girl accidentally rolling up a window on her own body as a child. And I gassed out loud realizing I finally had

a hometown moment. I grew up in put in Bay, Ohio, a little island in Lake Erie that is mostly known for its bar scene, but also is a hidden gem once you actually get out of the downtown area, where the majority of people get around by golf carts rather than cars. It's full of tons of narrow roads, blind turns and minimal speed limit postings. We went there a few weeks throughout the summer, often alternating between just my mom and I spending the week with my best friend C and her mom, my mom's best friend and my family going up together. This particular week, it was just my mom and I with our best friends for girls week. C and I were somewhere in the eight and nine age range. And the past few days of the week had been pretty dreary. Reed,

she and I had been cooped up in the house with way more energy than necessary because eight and nine seas mom had a meeting for the early part of the day. And despite it still being pretty rainy, my mom wanted us to get out of the house to burn some of that energy. Plus our golf cart had fold up windshield. So clearly we had no excuses. My mom took the two of us to the nature center on the island. We hadn't been there in a long time and both of us are very into animals slash nature. So it really was an ideal trip on the way there. I sat in the front of the golf cart and C sat in the back and we both thought it was hilarious for me to stick my head and upper body outside of the golf cart and turn around to talk to see instead of just turning in the direction

of my mom to face backwards and talk to her. So it's like she's turning out and get almost like leaning out of the golf cart to talk to her body. Okay. Her upper body. Yeah. My mom mostly worried that her uncoordinated clumsy accident prone daughter would fall out of the golf cart kept telling me to turn the other way. In the meantime, a box truck came flying around a blind turn on the very narrow road we were on nearly side swiping our golf cart. My mom grabbed the back of my hoodie and yanked me back into the golf cart while maneuvering off the road to avoid the truck in a way that only moms can do. Oh my God. Once that truck was well past us because the fuckhead just kept going, we had a moment to breathe and all three of us broke down crying.

To this day, my mom maintains that the truck had to be going at least 40 miles an hour when it passed us and had she not reacted with mom like reflexes, my mom and best friend would have been left with a pretty traumatic moment instead of my brush with death and remember when story that we all share every time we go around that turn. My mom ended up turning around and taking us back to the house to watch a movie because all three of us were overwhelmed and completely disinterested in an outing at that point only to find out when C's mom got home that the nature center was closed on Wednesdays and had it not played out the way it did. My decapitation would have been for nothing. Thank you for all you do. Your brilliant storytelling has gotten me through

many shitty commutes and long work days and I'm so grateful for that and for you both, all the best, Emily. Oh my God. Send us the stories about how your mom saved your life, please. Yes, please. Holy shit. That's terrifying. Yeah. And also the idea of what you're nine years old and you figured out a funny bit that's making your friend laugh so you're just doing it and like, look, I thought of something funny. Yeah. The other day, Vince and I were driving and I'm a crazy driver, you know that and I kind of had to stop short and I did the fucking mom arm thing to Vince across the seat of like stopping him. Yep. And I was like, I'm sorry I did that, like you're a child. It was just my reflexes to like put my arm out in front of him to like stop him from

dying. Stop him from you killing him. I basically was like double seatbelt. I'd like active the seatbelt. You have to know, I mean, like, I think that's very good driver instincts. Yeah. Because you know you're about to do it. So you know, like, you know, you know, that it needs to get done. Right. And it also it's from a time like in the 80s where seatbelts were probably like, okay, at best. So you have to do it. All right. Or if you were even in seatbelts at all because you might be you might be in one of those long bench seat cars where you just would slide back and forth. That's right. All right. This is called butts on the beach. And it just starts. So comma, in the summer of 2016, I was bebopping around Europe visiting friends. Why? I don't know.

Between Madrid and Bordeaux, I had a weekend alone in San Sebastian. One day I decided to get out of town and have a little solo beach moment. I found this beach on Google Maps, did literally no research, bought some bread and cheese. And then it says crucial. Yes. And set off on a 2.5 hour jaunt to the shore. The hike there was cute. She was giving me moody, broody cloud vibe. With mountains and hills on one side and the ocean on the other, bucolic farmsteads, cows, etc. You get the picture. Yes. I finally get to the beach and it's kind of rocky and small and completely, completely deserted. There were no houses within sight and all the clouds and occasional mist made it seem even more secluded. I spied a comfy spot, broke out a book and my cheese and set in

for a nice afternoon. As soon as I sat down, though, this guy appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He was older than me, a little crusty. I couldn't tell if he was eccentric or just European. He surprised and scared me, but I was like, whatever, I don't know on the speech. He eventually walked off and disappeared behind some rocks. But from that second on, I could not shake a feeling of complete discomfort deep in my gut. The sound of waves and wind, which were at first comforting, started to sound like whispers. I was so uneasy, shivering with hair standing up in the back of my neck and a nagging feeling that someone was watching me. Yes, the guy behind the rock. The guy behind the rock. I mean, you're right. You should know you're right.

It was around this time that I reflected a little on my situation. Literally no one, I mean no one knew where I was. I had no way of getting away from that beach except by foot, no cell service and no defense. As the most mayonnaise-tinged, blissfully naive, thoroughly Midwestern white boy on earth, I guess I never thought about the precarity of wandering through a foreign country alone with literally no concerns for my safety or bodily autonomy. Newly aware of my situation, I nervously finished my cheese. This isn't going to leave any behind. I love this person already. And packed up. But as soon as I got up to go, little Mr. Shabby Sheik appeared again and started following me.

We were both walking toward the beach entrance, but he kept gaining on me. The closer he got, the more freaked out I became. Eventually he was so close that I could hear his hands fumbling in his pockets. I quickly jumped off the path and pretended to take pictures of the ocean, hoping he would just walk away and leave me alone. A few frantic breaths and face flushing heartbeats. I turned around and, mama, let me tell you, he was standing on top of a boulder, looking me directly in the eyes. As I stared, unable to move, he turned around, unbuckled his pants and dropped trow, exposing a decidedly middle-aged scrawny, fully nude ass. Now being notably homosexual myself, I should have been able to pick up on the vibes here and figured out

that this man was trying to get his life or that this was a cruising beach. I don't know what this is anyway. He was trying to get his life. It might be a fun phrase that this guy knows that we don't know. That's how you get your life. Get your life. Are we 85 years old? Leave it, you have to leave it. We don't have to pretend we know what get your life means. He's trying to get his life or that life. Or this was a cruising beach, but my angelic sensibilities had me convinced that I was about to be murdered. I dove behind another boulder, tried to find a rock for self-defense, and wondered if the water at the shore was deep enough for him to drown me in. After a couple minutes of cowering and clutching a rock, I peeked out from my hideaway and saw that

the beach was totally deserted as if this guy had disappeared into thin air. Thank God the gays have been blessed with an unnatural capacity to walk quickly because I summoned a full Cath day-night power walk and fled back to the city tootsweet. I recovered with more cheese. Yes. And then it says, I think about you and the crew all the time and he, him. Oh wait. And then it says, P.S. I'm an English professor, but I still don't have any idea what I'm doing most of the time. A couple years ago, after listening to you two, I started incorporating a corrections corner into my classes where I fix the things I got wrong in the previous day's workshop or lecture. I'm not pressed about it. Everybody messes up, but thanks for modeling. I had a gracefully own up to your

mistakes and laugh off the little things. M. You clearly are an English professor. That was such a hilariously beautiful. Okay, I have to admit, when you said be bopping around Europe, I was like, don't love it. But now knowing the rest of your writing personality, also, if you don't think I'm not stealing Moody Broody as a descriptor for anything, you're wrong. Get your life. Get your life. That must be it, right? He was getting his life. Go get your life. Get that life. Drop trial and get your life on a boulder. Be bopping around. I love it. That was gorgeously executed M. And then what an honor to somehow have affected the way someone approaches how they do things. Especially a professor where you're like, we're not worthy. True. I mean, that's someone M does his

homework. Yeah. Looking for a better cooking routine? With meal planning, shopping, and prepping handled, HelloFresh has you covered. HelloFresh makes home cooking easy and affordable so you can stay on track and on budget in the new year. HelloFresh 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 HelloFresh's expanded menu of quick lunch solutions, weekend brunch, simple side dishes, and amazing desserts. Karen January is going to be my month for HelloFresh. I am so sick of takeout. I miss cooking so much. I haven't lifted a knife or a pan since like early fall. So I can't wait to get back in the kitchen and HelloFresh 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. So get up to 20 free meals with purchase plus free shipping on your first box at hellofresh.ca slash murder 20 with code murder 20. That's up to 20 free meals plus free shipping on your first box when you go to hellofresh.ca slash murder 20 and use code murder 20. Goodbye. Hey, I'm Mike Corey, the host of Wondery's podcast against the odds. In our next season, three masked men hijack a school bus full of children in the sleepy farm town of Chowchilla, California. They bury the children and their bus driver deep underground, planning to hold them for ransom. Local police and the FBI marshal a search effort, but the trail quickly runs dry.

As the air supply for the trapped children dwindles, a pair of unlikely heroes emerges. Follow against the odds wherever you get your podcasts, you can listen ad free on the Amazon music or Wondery app. This subject line of this email is bars save lives. Hey there. I've been racking my brain for a hometown story to share with you all. But the only thing murderish related was that my friend's mom saw Jeffrey Dahmer streaking in a park. And in parentheses, it says, I'm from Milwaukee. Well, not right. I mean, that's not nothing. It's, it's something else. Um, and horrifying. Well, not a murder. I do have a fun ancestor story that I thought you might get a kick out of. Right. We're a very Irish family, but I do have one great, great grandpa that squeaked

in from Luxembourg. Love that. Turns out way back when I don't know how long ago, sometime in the 1800s, he was set to sail to America and got very drunk at a bar the night before the trip. Love that for him. But he ended up, it says that in front of us. He loved that for him. Get your life. Get your life. Wait, but he ended up missing the boat. Not sure how often boats were shuttling to and from Luxembourg and America at that point, but I bet it was a little bit of a bigger deal than missing a flight these days. The crazy thing is a couple days later, there were bits of wood floating in the water near the port. It turns out that first boat ended up catching fire and sank, killing everyone on board. Oh my God. Incredibly tragic. And I wonder how often that happened back

then. Good thing my great, great grandpa knew how to have a good time and was incredibly irresponsible. I wouldn't be here today if not. One last quick tidbit. He brought one travel trunk with him on the journey. And then in parentheses, it says, talk about traveling white. And it's now in my parents' house. My siblings and I are all squabbling over who gets it next. And gosh, I hope I do because it's the coolest thing ever. Oh my God. Oh my God. Check this out. Thanks and have a great day. M. What? It can't be. Would it be the same M if the your M specified pronouns, this M did not? No, it can't be. It can't be the same, but that's insane. Yeah, that's wild. Also, I just wonder what that trunk smells like. I bet it smells so good. Oh, it's kind of like

it's salty sea air. Mothballs and salty mold. Maybe hopefully a little bit of cedar got in there somehow. What about those really old trunks that like people used? They were like suitcases, but they also turned into like your room, essentially. Yeah. With all the drawers. Like on Joe versus the volcano. Yeah. Wardrobe. A wardrobe. Yeah. Travel trunk that you can also float to a desert island. Yeah. That's haunted. Okay. And go versus a volcano. This is called a Christmas secret. My last one, I think. The best kind. Yeah. Dear Karen, Georgia, and associates. In the last mini-show, you asked for funny family secrets and it reminded me of this story. When I was 16, my family, like many of the blended sort, chose to celebrate Christmas

a week early so that we could spend it all together. My aunt and uncle usually host, but my mom does most of the cooking as she is a great cook. I just remembered what this one is about. Yeah. She pulls out all the saps on Christmas from the stuffing to the mashed potatoes. It's a real spread, but the side dish that gets the most hype is her creamed corn. Oh, I love fucking cream corn. I should probably mention that we're from the Midwest. We love all things creamed and corn related. And if that grosses you out, you're probably not going to enjoy the rest of this story. Almost a trigger warning. Can I just say, like you just saying the phrase cream corn right now, we used to have that as a side, like every third night, like cream corn was

a staple at our house. Like normally. Wow. Not special occasion, but like, yeah, it was so good. Well, it came in a can, which is my mom's specialty. But that was, it's so good. They have it at Tamo Shantar when you get like the corned beef or whatever. We have to go there. You can get cream corn or cream spinach and I do, or you can say can I get half and half and I'll give you fucking half and half. Can we please go there tonight in a week? Yeah, like within the week, because I just remembered they basically have Thanksgiving dinner there. They do. And I, although got plenty to eat on Thanksgiving night, of course. Not enough. I want it again. There were no leftovers.

Well, we're going. Okay, great. Here we go. Thank you. The day of our Christmas celebration is giving. It's giving two weeks later. Yeah, two weeks later. The day of our Christmas celebration, we packed up the car and headed to my grandparents' house to pick them up. At the time, my grandparents had two miniature doxies and then they noticed the favor of giving them the names Wilmer and Pudge. Nice. That they took everywhere with them. Fuck yeah. At some point during the ride, there was a crinkling sound coming from the backseat. I distinctly remember my mom turning down Bing Crosby to hear the sound better. We couldn't figure it out what it was and then we

heard it lapping. Somehow Wilmer and Pudge had gotten under the seat, crawled into the trunk, and we're eating the cream corn. The crinkling sound had been the sound of the tin foil being ripped into. Yes. My mom slammed on her brakes and ran to the backseat, grabbed both the dogs by the collar and drove the rest of the way to my aunt's with them both on her lap. When we pulled into my aunt's driveway, my brother and I got out to help my mom unload the car. My brother grabbed the tray of cream corn and started towards the garbage cans. When my mom asked where he was going to the trash to which my mom responded, dog's mouth is cleaner than a human's. Yes. It says my mom rationalized that because they say

dog's mouths are cleaner than a human's and that they had only gotten into one corner of the tray that it was still okay to serve the disgraced corn at our family's Christmas get together. Disgraced cream corn. Disgraced cream. This is our regular episode. That's what it would be called. Yep. However, she threatened to ground me or any of my four siblings if we ever told anyone. That's right. You've got to get serious with this shit. That's parenting. Yep. But then it says, I no longer live at home, so this no longer applies to me. That's not at all. But that's right. There's nothing she can do about it. You can email any podcast you want and tell this cream corn disgrace story. It says, I remember watching Horrified as my cousin Anna went up for not only

seconds but thirds of the tainted dish. There were several family members who questioned why none of my siblings had eaten any. The four of us mostly just hung our heads in shame and avoided making eye contact with each other. Some family members even mentioned that it was the best one yet to which my mother sheepishly replied, I haven't really done anything different this year. To this day, my siblings talk about it and it always gets a laugh, even though honestly, it's pretty gross. Say sexy and don't feed your family anything that a dog has had its mouth on. Melanie. First of all, that mom worked really hard on that dish. She wasn't letting those little doxies fuck up her day. No, it's just a corner.

It's fine and everybody eats gross stuff all the time without knowing it. Do you think if you clean out that corner and get rid of all that in the corner, it's still safe? Or does it germs permeate the entire dish? No, it's fine. I don't believe dogs' mouths are cleaner than humans. I think that's absolutely rationalization. I think we've talked about it. Or it's like, I watch what Frank does all day, and it's not pretty. So I know for a fact, my mouth is cleaner than his. It's absolutely 100%. But I also, that's like five second rule style thinking where it's just like food is for some, for many, like a big deal, hard one, especially prepared. You don't just

kind of throw things away. Like, sorry, there's just no dish. Yeah, I wouldn't eat it, but I would be okay serving it. I mean, you couldn't know and then eat it. I don't think I wouldn't be able to. But like the other day, I think I told you this, I left, I had like kind of a, it was like a Mexican bowl. So it was like rice on the bottom, black beans, chicken and some vegetable. And I just heated it up in the microwave, put it down, put it down next to my laptop at the table where I, like the dining room table, then pushed my chair out, went to the bathroom, came back, and Frank was standing in a weird way and kind of going like that. Where I'm like, what are you doing? What did you get? And then I looked and it was like, he absolutely could have just quick

copped up on that chair and then eaten at least the top layer. But then I was staring at that bowl, like, I can't see anywhere where he, it looks like he moved anything around. Yeah, he just, but how would you know sour cream off the top? No, because I know you don't like guacamole. No, no sour cream, but it also was already jumbled up. So it was hard to tell. It wasn't like a perfectly, yeah, there's nothing you couldn't tell hardcore, then you could still eat it. I didn't eat it. Oh, I took like, I tried to take like one bite and then I was just like, I can't do it. It's just. Do you know that every morning I get woken up with cookie licking my gums? She's right there. Excited every morning. She's just a healthiest dog and I get woken up

with just a fucking dog tongue across my teeth and gums every morning. That's a good way to get you up, but she knows how to get you moving. Oh my God. God bless. It's disgusting. Cream corn for everyone. Cream corn for everyone this holiday season. Please. Think of us and this and think of Melanie. Think and think of yourself and it's all you have to do is buy a can at the grocery store. I don't think there's much to it. It's easy. Oh my God. Yeah. Choose yourself. Is that it? Do you have one more? I went first with the shoplifter store manager showdown. This has been an epic episode. Yeah. Wow. Yeah. I mean, every, these are like hit after hit. Hit after hit. For sure. Guys, send us your hit. Send us your hit, your five star

hometown, whatever it may be. And even if it's Moody Broody, we want to hear about it. Yeah. Even if it's you romping or what was it, frolicking, bopping around. Oh, a be bopping around Europe. Even if you're, what we're saying is get your life and send us an email, please. Yeah. And if you want to listen to our mini mini, we each on the fan cult special, we each do one episode. Mine's about John Snow this week. Mine's about, I don't know. It's over there. I'm not sure. I can't remember where to start saying what they're about to get teasers teasers teasers teasers. And I think there's a ton of episodes from the back that many, many is that you can listen to. Right. Yeah. The fan cult has just volumes that you need to explore. But until you do stay sexy.

Don't get murdered. Get away. Elvis, do you want a cookie? This has been an exactly right production. Our producer is Hannah Kyle Crichton, associate producer Alejandra Keck, engineer and mixer Steven Ray Morris, researchers J. Elias and Haley Gray. Send us your hometowns and your fucking raise at my favorite murder at gmail.com. And follow the show on Instagram and Facebook at my favorite murder and Twitter at my fave murder. And for more information about this podcast, our live shows, merch, or to join the fan cult, go to my favorite murder.com. Rate, review, and subscribe.