Spooked - The Paperboy - Classic

Episode Date: November 28, 2025

Ray Christian hated being a paperboy. Bad pay, hard route, rude customers. But there was one customer in particular who was different from the rest, and Ray didn’t quite know why.Thank you, Dr. Ray Christian, for sharing your story with us! Check out more of Ray's stories on his podcast, What’s Ray Saying?Produced by Liz Mak, original score Leon Morimoto, art by Teo Ducot. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

What if your very first boss never shows up? Listen to Spoot. Stay. Things have changed since I was a kid. In so many ways. And I'm not even old yet, but things have changed. See, I grew up on a farm. We had goats and chickens and cows, horses.

We grew corn, beans, blueberries. And yes, farms are really. run by farmers. This is true. But when a calf is sick at the middle of the night and needs to be next to a warmer when possums have gotten into the chicken feed. When the vet needs help trying to birth a foal, it

always happens. It always, always happens at 2 o'clock in the morning. And who goes out to the barn at 2 in the morning? Probably got the farmer. The farmer's got to get up at six The farmer's got stuff to do So no, it's not the farmer Walking out to that Dark slate gray barn

Through the 2 o'clock in the morning gloom No, it is not the farmer Hoping desperately to Get that generator running So at least At least there'll be a little bit of light Nah That's not the farmer

Trying to calm the wild Out of the mama horse's eyes to beat back that fear she has to let her know that it's going to be all right but our foal is going to be just fine that everything's going to be just fine when you don't even know if everything is going to be

just fine because the night does what the night will healthy animals fall sick sounds come from places sounds should not be the barn itself has moods something good

something very, very bad. No, it's not the farmer facing the deep growls, the angry clicks, the silence in the middle of the night. It's not the farmer. It's the farm boy. My very first job was to do anything and everything that needed to be done to fight back the night time

so that my father did get out of bed in the morning but all was well. And I think now, with these little kids I've got who sometimes wake up in the middle of the night screaming, screaming. I think that my very first job beating back the night

is the same job I have today. Mr. Washington, the first lessons are the hardest lessons. Spook starts. Dr. Ray Christian. You see, when Ray was a kid, he had one of the most coveted jobs of all Ray was a paper boy

But there was one customer in particular Who was different from the rest And Ray didn't quite know why I hated it It was difficult for me to understand How some boys were even successful at it Paperboys ended up being places They wouldn't normally be

I would say in this part of the neighborhood Probably more than a third of the houses were abandoned either burned out by fires or they're just dilapidated from disrepair. The street lights have been out. There'd be no porch lights. Stray people just wandering. Criminals, pool halls, guys up to no good.

My mama had but one rule as terms of being a paper boy, and that was to be safe at all times. She was worried that I would walk up into somebody's house trying to collect some money and get beaten up or robbed or shot. Because these were the kind of crimes that were common in my neighborhood anyway. But being a paper boy made me more of a target. So my mama would say, be careful, deliver those papers and get yourself back home as soon as you can. But the paper manager had another rule, and that was to deliver those papers and collect that money whenever you can.

So this is one house in particular. The previous paperboy who had been delivering to this house, he didn't want to deliver there anymore, and he refused to collect on it. So the manager of the paper boys, he told me that I would take over. It was on North 25th Street. It was already big and creepy, and it had this reputation with just about everybody in the neighborhood because it was so big and so dark. And nobody knew anything about the guy who lived there.

Some people say he had a lot of money, that he was strange. Some people say he was a murderer. You could imagine a lot of things because it was so dark and you never saw anybody. And that made it creepier. You know somebody's there, but you've never seen them. It was the first day of my route and I went to the creepy house. I saw a few papers that were sitting on the porch and that's never a good sign. I knocked on the door.

There was no answer. So I did again. Nobody came through the door. So I started walking around the porch until I got to a point in the blinds. It was partially bent open and I looked into there. And I met another eye looking back at me. And I jumped back. And somebody said, hey, come around to the back and bring the paper.

So I went around to the back. But that was difficult because this yard hadn't been cut probably in years. It had small little trees growing up, really, really high weeds. And all in the weeds was garbage and trash, broken bottles, dilapidated old junked car in the backyard. So I'm trying not to step on a rusty nail or get cut by a piece of metal. And I was just trying to be extra, extra careful as I walked through it. Got on the back porch. Some of the steps were missing.

It was wobbly and creaky and rusty. And I knocked on the back door. And nobody came. I said, it's me. It's me, paper boy. I'm coming in. I beat on the door and I started pushing on it, but it wouldn't move.

So I kept pushing on it, kept pushing on, and the door slowly started opening it up. But only enough for me to just squeeze my, myself in sideways. The entire kitchen, it was stacked with newspapers all the way to the ceiling, but they were neat, tightly packed. Every possible inch except one small path leading into another room, which was also matted down with newspapers. You couldn't see any sunlight. There was no natural light to penetrate the house. Just the unmistakable. smell of paper and ink. I went all the way to the back through the path, wondering where this

was supposed to go, into the front room, which was also loaded with newspapers all the way to the ceiling. And there was another room loaded, bathroom loaded, and then you had this one little corner of filth. And I saw the guy. And I saw the guy. He was wearing one of those wife beaters. He was scraggly. He had a beard, skinny. He's sitting on a single bed.

It has no sheet on it, and the mattress is filthy and stained. The t-shirt he's wearing looks the same as the mattress does in terms of its color. Stained, brownish, yellow. He had a sickening, sweet. body odor. The bathroom is also filled with newspapers all the way to the ceiling.

Everything in that room is full papers. And clearly, he had been using this bucket as a toilet. I walked right up to him and I said, I'm here to collect money from the past, do. And he said,

okay. And he started counting out change. First, I was surprised that he said, okay. And I was even more surprised that he started counting out change in that way. He's taking out one penny at a time, you know, to count out a dollar. And ladies are going to like one cents, two cents, five cents. It's 15 cents, 20 cents, 21 cents, 25 cents. Oh, wait a minute.

So we're going through this until we get a dollar, $1.15, $1.15, $1.16. $1.25, $1.31. I'm already creeped out. I want to get out of there. But he's being slow. And this is all taking too long. 40, 45, 50, $0.62.67. Here, $1.67.

That's what I owe you? Yes, sir. Yes, sir. But that's a lot of change. And I kept spilling it and dropping it on the floor. A few pittings here and there. and that's when he decided to tell me he would fold it up for me and give it to me. He tells me to put it all on the bunk, on his bed.

I put it on the bed. I didn't want to touch that. And he reached under, and he pulled out a scarf. I'm certain he had been blowing his nose with it because it looked that way. And he unfolded that, and I'm looking at it and going, I don't want to even put that in my pocket, but he unfolded it. rubbed it out neat as he could. He placed all the change inside.

Grabbed it by the corner, left and right, one tie, other two corners, second tie, twist, a nod at the top. And he gave it to me. Here's your money. And he said in the future, from now on, the money that you need is going to be in there on the table. Just throw the paper up in here and don't bring your ass up. up in here no more because I'll shoot you. And I said, yes, sir. And I went outside and I left. And I continued to deliver newspapers to this house for months. But after that, we can have any more personal contact. And it always followed the same path. I would just walk into the

kitchen, tossed the newspaper back through the passageway that he had made a paper. And so he could get it. The handkerchief was always in that spot. Always to be on the kitchen table, right where it was supposed to be. And it was supposed to contain $1.50. Each week, every week, it contained $1.50. Always in change. I collect it, and I would leave the house.

But each time that I would come back, I always announced myself, Sir, it's me. Paper boy. I'm here to collect. I have your paper. Sir, I'm getting the change. Sir, I'm collecting the money. I got the money. I'm gone. Bye. But he never said anything. I often wondered what he was doing.

Was he reading his paper? What he ate? Do they have any kids? Why didn't he come outside? I hated going to this house because it was nasty and scary and it smelled. But the one good thing about it is this guy always paid on time. Then I'd start throwing in extra things a little later. I would go, it's me, paper boy.

It's raining outside. It smells in this house. Did you eat today? You hear about the news? What was in the news? What did you read yesterday? Hello, sir, I'm dancing. It's me.

Woo-hoo. Goodbye. I never heard any. No reaction, because I never saw him. But I would hear sounds or things that made me think that he acknowledged my presence. I would see a shifting of the light or shadow stand up and flash across the room or him stepping. I would hear that, and I would take that as quick acknowledgement. This is about early February of the year.

It's still cold and slushy snow is still on the ground. It's still below freezing of the nights most of the days. But it starts thawing out in March. The house was really starting to reek. And I was starting to hear this buzzy sound coming from the back. And probably late April is when the flies started showing up. I assumed that was related to that bucket that he had in the room. I yelled a couple of times about how bad the house smelled.

Sir, ooh, it smells in here. How are you standing? Hello? This house stinks? Sir? Hello? Stinky house? Bye. No sounds, no response. Initially, there were only but a few flies.

And then it was twice as many the next day. In about four or five days, there were hundreds of flies in the house. I hated it. That was gross. It had reached a point where the smell was just outrageous. It takes about two months. So we started moving toward the summer. The smell dies off almost completely.

I continued to deliver the papers. I tossed the papers in. I still yell, but nothing. The one good thing about it is this guy always made sure I had my money. And we get about into the beginning of the fall. and I went to the creepy house. And this time, as I'm walking up, there may be 20, 25 people outside.

And the police and an ambulance. And the strangest thing of all is the front door of the house is open. And I never saw that door open. There must be a hundred bundles of paper that they had moved and put on the front porch and I saw them wheeling out a stretcher and there's a body wrapped in a white sheet and everybody in the crowd is going,

oh, that's that guy. I knew it was somebody in that house. I knew it was somebody in there. How long you think he's been dead? He's probably been dead for years, years, years. Who called him? And as they're thinking through it, every word they're saying is making me feel good.

I felt guilty. That I didn't use that time to actually talk to him. I never thought that I had any responsibility to this guy. I never even thought about him. And I'm also starting to wonder, I've been delivering this papers to this guy's house for almost a year. Who was I talking to? Hearing people say that he had to be dead a long time.

Scared me. I kept going back and forth in my mind. where I stood there the time that didn't I hear him. I thought I heard him. I'm sure I heard him. My money is there. Didn't he laugh one time when I said the house smelled? Didn't I see his shadow across the room when I told him I was leaving?

But it was difficult to digest as a kid. I heard somebody in the crowd say, but somebody had to know about it. Who knew this guy? And I'm thinking, oh, yeah, I didn't know. You know, and then what starts to bother me is in the crowd, they're starting to talk about all the newspapers that they're bringing out and putting out on the porch.

And somebody says, well, somebody was delivering those newspapers to that house. Somebody said the paper boy had to be delivering it. He'd probably know something. He was delivering them papers and no, he ain't doing it for free. Yeah. who the paper boy is. Hearing that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. But I almost felt like I wanted to say something.

Everybody's starting to talk and wonder and speculate about who that kid was. I wonder who he is. And I decided to just keep my mouth shut. Ray Christian, everyone. Dr. Ray Christian. You can find more of Ray's stories on our sister podcast, Snap Judgment, and Ray's got his own podcast. It's called What's Ray saying?

It's available wherever you get your podcast. The original score for that piece was by Leon Morimoto. It was produced by Liz Mack. Understand there is a secret war of foot, dear listeners, and we hope you pick the right side. But be afraid. And if you dig amazing storytelling under the light of day, check out our sister podcast, Snap Judgment,

storytelling with the beat, movies of the mind, the amazing Snap Judgment podcast. Spooked is brought to you, but every single sound you failed to investigate in the middle of the night and by Mark Ristich.

Anna Sussman, our chief spookster, Eliza Smith, Chris Hambrick, Nguyen, U.N., Jacob Winick, and Lauren Newson. The Spook theme song is by Pat Massini Miller. My name's in Washington Now you might see fireflies

You might smell incense You might see breadcrumbs in the forest Do not follow it's all a trick Instead Stay inside Lock the doors, friends And most importantly Never

Ever Never, never, ever Never, ever, never, never, never Never, never Turn out