The Dollop with Dave Anthony and Gareth Reynolds - 105 - Spiderman of Denver

Episode Date: August 13, 2015

Comedians Dave Anthony and Gareth Reynolds examine the Spiderman of Denver. Not as good as the regular Spiderman. SOURCES TOUR DATES REDBUBBLE MERCH

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Gareth Reynolds who has no idea what the topic is about. It's from American History. The bi-weekly thing is now it's just... It's a thing. It's like it's loaded even if everybody everybody sent me their opinion everybody. I got a lot of it too and it's just fine right? Yeah it's not a big deal. Who is this person who kicked up all the dice? I don't know I wish I could go back and find out but I'm sure they're hanging their head in shame. Shame. Yeah and if they're doing it twice a week they're hanging it in shame bi-weekly. Or semi-weekly. Yeah or twice a week. Or twice a week. Bi-weekly is better though come on. Alright I'm in.

God you want to look who to do? I'll do one bottle. People say this is funny. Not Gary Gareth. Stay okay. Someone or something is tickling people. Is it for fun? And this is not gonna come to Tickly Podcast. Oh yay. You are Queen Fakie of made-up town. All hail Queen Shit of Liesville. A bunch of religious virgins go to mingle. And do what? Pray. Hi Gary. No. Has he done my friend? No. No. 1899. Philip Peters and his new bride were just getting started in life. Okay they bought a new small home and a nice neighborhood on the north side of Denver. Philip had just begun working at a railroad office. Of course there was a mandolin club. I'm sorry? I said of course

there was a mandolin club. A club of mandolin lovers and players? People who like playing the mandolin. Okay. It's Denver. The 1899. That's what happens. Okay. That doesn't, to me that doesn't scream mandolin era but okay. You didn't live back then. No I didn't. One day inside the home several couples played their mandolins while waiting for a 17 year old boy to show up. The boy, Theodore, was very good at playing and he gave them tips on strumming the mando. I'm assuming that you're making that. I did call it strumming the mando. Strumming the mando? They'd be like get out of the club. You bet. Come on I just

came here to strum some mandos. That's fine. I'll go home and strum the mando. Easy. Sir you're talking, no. Did I wink? The guy who just comes in naked masturbating. Hey I'm here to strum the mando. What? Wrong party sir. You guys should be more clear. I have a bunch of friends showing up. They're also gonna be strumming the mando. Many ladies want to strum the mando. There it is. All right. It's easy to play. Man. Do. Easy to play. The boy looked through the curtains of the home. He was holding his mandolin and coughing. He wasn't well. He was skinny and sickly looking. He had long slender fingers and a feverish eyes.

Sounds like Nusperatu. Doctor, he is. That's what it's gonna, that's what it's where it goes to. This is the incest. That's nice to know the origin. Doctors in many different cities had told him he probably wouldn't live to see 18. He had a heart condition. He rang the doorbell and was invited in. The teen became friends with the Peters and was a frequent guest at their home that fall. Okay. There were many nights in autumn of 1899 when the ailing youth had dinner with Philip and his wife. Theodore had dropped out of high school but his mother wouldn't let him get a job which he didn't think mattered because he was

going to die soon. It sounds like a pretty positive life. Yeah. You know. He hadn't. What does it matter? I'll be dead anyway. Who cares? Just my mandolin and my dead body. Just have long fingers and be in the ground. I'm gonna, I'm gonna have fingers stick out. Wait. Now we are written. I mean I think I started this snowball effect of us shitting on the tune. It's like 18s when I die. I'm a sad, dying boy. I only get an eighth of real life. Oh. Where? Like how he broke it down into fractions? I bet it's off. If it's math it's off. He was born on a farm near, oh god it's gone. Never heard of that town. In Wisconsin and he went to

high school there. His father died when he was just a baby. He had moved to Denver in 1910. He wanted to play sports but because of his bad heart that was not possible. Yeah. He loathed people. Staying alive is the sport he's playing. So he's pretty weird looking. Yeah. He doesn't sound easy on the eyes. So he loathed people staring at him and laughing at him as often happened. Why? What about that did he not respond to? I don't know. Look at the praying mantis. Hey long fingers. Maybe it's easy to strum because you have giant long fingers. Did you ever think about just putting some strings in between your really long weird fingers

and playing those? You fucking freak? His dream was to just live by himself where he couldn't hear others mocking him. That's so sad. That's like the hunchback stream. Yeah it's terrible. The Peters lost. My only friend are the bells. No one understands me like the bells. It's gonna come so close to that. Peter lost touch with Young Theodore but several years later the Peters lost touch. But some years later Philip Peters was leaving the railroad office when he brushed against a scruffy skinny man. It was Theodore. He was still alive. They spoke. Theodore said his mother had lost all their money to some con man.

They had talked her into selling this. I can get your boy real fingers. Really? Yeah. Yeah you just give me 200 up front and then 200 when I get him the new normal fingers. I can't do nothing about the skin of the face though. I actually know a face guy. Give me that money I'll talk to him. All the money sell your house we'll get new fingers. I'm suggesting we re-upholster your boy. Lady you found the old house the fingers? I don't want to talk about it. That's better answers people got fingers. Anyway want to buy a bridge? They talked her into selling the family home investing it all in a mine in Denver. Oh boy. That was the last time she saw the men.

I'm just assuming it's going really well. Philip invited Theodore over for dinner just like old times but Theodore declined. He said he was now working in advertising in downtown Denver. He lived with and took care of his mother. They parted ways again. Then in the spring of 1912 Philip Peters bumped into Theodore again. This time things had changed quite a bit. Okay. Theodore's mother had passed away. He now had no idea what he was going to do. He was just getting by. He didn't tell Philip his dark secrets like the time he tried to join the army but was laughed at. That's a bad same thing happened to Gomer Pyle. Did it did it? Yeah I don't know.

He was just like hey I would like to join the army. Oh my god. Let me get my supervisor. Don't move. Okay. Okay. So sorry. Tell us what you want again. Hey do we have room for a praying manus in the army? Tell us what you want. I would like to join the army. Oh my god. Fuck look at him. Look at him Sarge. Get the fuck out. Oh boy. Seriously get out you're hard to look at but my god. Hilarious. Do you even use a fork or do you just poke him with it? He doesn't use a fork. We can put marshmallows on this kid's hand and make s'mores. All we need is a fire. It's a fucking thing. They're like talons. He also did not tell Philip that his business had collapsed or that he had lived for a while as a hobo

traveling and continued to cough everywhere he went. He said for while. My favorite kind of hobo is a coffin hobo. Yep. Coughobo. Coughobo. He stayed for he lived for a while under bridge in California and now he's back in Denver staying in a flop house. The once young mandolin player now just drifted around from state to state. He had once tried to work as a salesman in New York but couldn't do it. Of course not. The only thing he could sell would be gloves. Long ones. Yeah like really yeah. So now he's in Denver again did not accept the invitation to dinner and they went their separate ways. Okay. Things weren't going great for Philip either. His wife had broken her hip two weeks before and she was

still in the hospital. A concerned neighbor came by to see how he was doing when he didn't show up for dinner that night. She had been feeding Philip every night since his wife went into the hospital. She knocked on the door but no one answered. She rang the bell. The house was dark. It was at night. Yep. Okay. We're a little dramatic on that one. It's light out except in the house it's dark. Right. So the lights were off. It's in a wormhole. No no no no no no no it isn't. There's a darkness in the home. Yes. That cannot be explained by physics. Can be absolutely explained by everything. Being concerned the neighbor went and gathered up a large group of neighbors. So she gets everyone up. She gets everyone

out. There's something wrong with Philip. Well I went over there and there was no one there. And all the neighbors. Everybody come. Bring fiery torches. They came back to Philip's house and tried to get in to make sure Philip was okay. They tried every door and window but they were all locked. That's strange. There were screens on all the windows. That's even stranger. Then a young girl found a screen loose and managed to pry a window open. She climbed inside. Everyone was outside when they heard her terrified scream. Philip Peters was dead. Okay. The 73 year old retired railroad auditor had been murdered in his own home where he lived for close to 50 years. Oh boy. This was not the type of

neighborhood where murder occurred. Everyone was shocked. Oh boy. The police were called. When they arrived they found. This is Nosferatu Rinaldo. Wormy fingers. Wait are these looks like some finger shed here. So. Are these finger sheddings. We got the fingerprints and they're huge. We think we're looking for some kind of big ostrich. Is that what you came up with for long fingers. Well I'm thinking like. An ostrich. Talons. What about like a sloth. I mean I think I'm thinking claws. They have claws. What are you thinking my fucking bits. I'm an ostrich. Well okay fine the sloth. Do you want to go back. How do you want to handle this. This is new. I just disagree with the the biology. I was struggling.

You heard me. There was a stammer in there. I didn't have it on deck. I was halfway through thinking about it. I had nothing and I said ostrich. Maybe we won't go to Australia. You don't fuck you. All right fucking finger critiques. So the police son of a bitch come and they find his body downstairs in a bedroom. He was very bloody half dressed and barefoot. There were more than a dozen wounds to his head. Philip had been beaten and beaten. It was quick and police believed he never saw it coming. It wasn't a robbery. His watch was found as was money on his dresser. There was no motive just a dead man in all his possessions and there was no sign of a break in. Oh boy. The front door was locked with a key still

in. He just really wanted to make it obvious. And it was secured with a chain. Okay. So it could only have been done from the inside. The back door was also locked. Okay. So everything's locked. There's no way out. Yeah. There was a damp towel in the kitchen covered in blood stains. They also located two cast iron shakers. One was dusty and dirty while the other had just been clean. Police concluded the killer was a large man and crazy. There were no clues. The killer just vanished into thin air. Hmm. On January much like Nosferatu. Yeah. In January 1942, it was very cold as it often is in Denver. Some children were rushing by the home when they said they saw a bright light inside. At this point, the house was

empty. There should not have been a light shining inside. Then another neighbor said she saw a ghost inside one of the windows. The neighbors began to talk and decided the house was haunted. Okay. It took a long time to recover from her broken hip, but she had done it. Mrs. Peters was ready to leave the hospital and decided she wanted to go to the home she had shared with her husband, Phillip, even though he had been killed there. Oh my god. Did this dude kill him just to fucking live there? But it had been her home for 50 years, and that's where she felt she belonged. Then one night, something scared her and she fell down again. Oh gosh. She fractured her thigh again, but she had had it with hospitals

and refused to go. So a nurse came to stay with her. Now this nurse was not as old as Mrs. Peters, and she was unfamiliar with the house. She heard things. Noises inside the walls and and rattling. Oh, fuck me, Dave. Someone this dude. What fucking is he living in the walls like a goddamn rat or what? Or what some would call a sloth. If my and if I'm off on my animal accuracy. Is he living inside the walls in an ostrich? Is he inside the walls like a big cat? Is he in there like some kind of giant African bird? You know, they're saying his fingerprints were much like that of a bird. Excuse me. Yeah. Sorry. What were you guys talking about? Pardon? Yeah. He laying some big old eggs. Yo, you

man, his fingers are so long. I bet his babies come out of eggs. You're listening to the riff hour. You're listening to bad riffs. Someone came out to check on things and found nothing, but the nurse wasn't buying it. Next, she said she saw a ghost on the back stairs. It chattered its teeth at her. Gee. She immediately quit and left. Yeah, the right call. He quit. Then a neighbor stepped in and took care of Miss Peters, but the neighbor was not familiar with the home either. And now she was hearing things several days later. Say, why did the last nurse quit? Oh, well, she just heard someone living in the walls and saw a ghost rattled its teeth. She saw a chattering teeth ghost. She saw a chat. What some are calling

a chattering ostrich. Some, not many, but a few. Just one. One weirdo. He's not good. He's not a good labeler. Do you think he meant sloth? I just don't think he knows what sloths are. That's the only thing I can think. But he's really sticking to it. Several days later, the neighbor heard a strange noise and ran into the kitchen. She did not turn on the lights, and there she saw a ghost standing at the foot of the stairs. Investigators came. She described it as filthy and wraith-like. What's wraith-like? Who? A wraith. Well, there's wraiths. Wait, is that what a person with a lisp calls a marathon? It's like a, it's like a, well, it's like, it is a spirit. I mean, it's like a ghost. It's like another

day for ghosts, but it's, I think it's like a creepier kind. Okay, so creepy ghost. Creepy ghost. Okay, gotcha. CG. Alrighty. So it vanished when she screamed. Relatives insisted Miss Peters needed to get out of the house. So she went to live with her son in western Colorado. The house was now vacant. Okay, I'm sure the ghost is into that. Meanwhile, police said they would keep an eye on the house. Mm-hmm. In July 1942, two police officers were doing only just that. They were sitting across the street watching the home. The sun was going down and a mailman was walking down the street delivering mail. Yep. Yep. Yes. That's it. Both police looked at the mailman. When one out of the corner of his eye saw a ghost face

suddenly appear between the curtains of the house. Ghost face killer. He started rapping. The policeman hit his partner who looked up and also saw the horrible white face. He said he got a chill on his neck and in his stomach. Okay. I don't know what a chill is in your stomach. I don't think that's right. It's like when you eat a bunch of ice cream. I think that one got lost in a game of telephone. He's got a chilly stomach. Hey, you got chilly stomach from seeing that ghost? I can't tell you how cold it is in my tummy. The ghost was also watching the mailman. The two cops then jumped out of their car and dashed across the street. One blew his whistle to call for assistance as he ran. Cops should have whistles.

Cops should have whistles again. So sad. A fucking whistle. Just seeing him whistle. The ghost that had peeked out from between the curtains was now gone. One caught hit the door with his shoulder and broke it down. They looked around. The place was packed up. The furniture was covered in sheets. Old magazines lay on the table. On the piano there was a picture from long ago. It was Theodore looking sick and frail as usual in a turtleneck sweater holding a mandolin. And then he vanished in the photo. And the photo was said boo. And then the piano started being played from long weird fingers. Much like a dead ostrich claw. One would say one said bang bang bang like it didn't have fingers. It was like an ostrich.

The police began to search the home. They started on the lower level. The rooms smelled like an animal. I know which kind. More cops arrived responding to the whistle. Two of them dashed to the whistle. If you hear a whistle. We heard a whistle. You guys hear the whistle game. Also the worst thing of someone whistles. I don't know where the fuck that's coming from. And how do you. I mean that basically says that like you need a license to have a whistle? Yeah well I mean I'm sure there's a special whistle they do. So they have the special whistle. Gee but at a cop when it's what if there's like a fight in the soccer game. You know all the cops will show me?

Well then everyone blows their whistle. It's fine. I think we're saying different things. So two of the cops ran upstairs and as they did they saw a closet door swing shut one of the policemen opened the closet door and when he did he saw two bare feet kicking away as a ragged pair of pants tried to disappear into the attich. The ghost is getting naked! What? Ghost feet!

I think the ghost is trying to show us his dick! The Academy never prepared me for ghost feet! Boy, I don't know what kind of whistle code you blow on this one, but we got a bottomless ghost! Scooby Doo! We got a ghost who looks like an ostrich and is dressed like Porky Pig! Uh, yeah, that's what came through on the whistle. Is it the F?

Yeah, I don't know if I'm reading this whistle code right, sir, but it sounds like we got an ostrich-porty-Porky-Pig dressed ghost? Yeah, that's what it said to her, that's what it sounded like to me. So the cop grabbed onto the ragged old pants, but they just ripped apart in his hands. What? He then grabbed one of the feet. It was between him and the ghost, because the closet was so small that the other policemen couldn't get in.

Yeah, what's, how's it going in there? Ah, I'm having a ghost fight! Oh, shit! Oh, these are some stinky feets. They yanked and yanked, the ghost screamed in pain and then went limp as it was pulled out of the attic. The police took it down, it had fainted from the struggle. Pussy ghost!

A few minutes later, they had taken the ghost down from the attic and placed it on the floor. It was unconscious, it was frightfully skinny. It's not a good ghost. Clothes were in tatters, hair was tangled like a wild animal, and it was remarkably filthy. The police captain came, took a look at it, and ordered them to get a doctor and an ambulance. It was a man, this ghostly thing, and it was barely alive. Give me his name. It looked like it had been starving.

It weighed just 75 pounds. Oh, Jesus! No wonder it fainted. The police officer tried to get through the hole into the attic, but he was too large. It was said to be three times the size of a cigar box. What? Apparently no one measured it. Yes, sir.

Cigar boxes. Did you get a fourth cigar box in there? No, no way. All right, so that's three cigar boxes. All right, cool. We got a three cigar box here up here. Now let's go see how big a football field is. The officer did manage to poke his head through and look in the attic, which was just a few

sizes larger than a coffin, so they don't know how to measure anything. No, no, no, no. It was, no, it's pretty clear. It was less than four cigar boxes, and it was less than the size of a small coffin. No, bigger than a coffin. It was a little bit bigger than a coffin. So it was bigger than a coffin, and it was three cigar boxes. So I guess what we're learning is that cigar boxes used to be fucking huge.

Hey, Sarge, can I ask you a question? It better be about cigar boxes. Yeah, can we start using rulers and whatnot? Well, no, no, we want to be accurate. The world is on the cigar box standard. Who are we to go and overturn such a thing? Listen, like I told you, your nine cigar boxes tall, and Macarra's 55 cigar boxes, okay? You can get 45 cigar boxes and a coffin, so a coffin is equal to 45, two coffins, 90,

and so forth. All right? And then we keep going. Now, on to more important stuff. Okay, so up in the attic... You know the earth is over two billion cigar boxes? It's true. It's true.

You see that moon? That's over 900 billion cigar boxes away. You can see it with a telescope if you're lucky. Makes you think, huh? Here we are. Yeah, but I like to measure by coffins, but I get what you're saying. Hey, listen, I'm into the coffin standard, too. Yeah.

I had this guy at the fire who was talking about rulers. Fuck that guy! What the fuck's a ruler? What is this? Australia? No, I guess apparently nine rulers is a cigar box. That's why it won't work. That conversion...

Who the fuck are these animals? I don't know. Where do they come from? It's the whole metric movement. Jesus Christ, this is America. That's disgusting. Anyway, do you got any cigars? Yeah, I got a cigar box the size of a cigar box with cigars in it.

Holy shit. Actually, don't be blown away. It's pretty standard. Okay. Okay, so upstairs in the attic, there was a light bulb hanging from a wire and a horrific stench of animal. There was a bed made from an ironing board, magazines in shreds were in the bedding, and there were a shitload of spider webs.

Oh god. Living large! Oh god. The man regained consciousness and was taken to the police station. He gave them food and he told them his story. His name was Theodore. Yeah. He had been in the neighborhood in 1945 and 1941 when he was living in flop houses and

trying to figure out what to do. He went to the home of his old friends and knocked on the door but no one was home. He then discovered the door was unlocked. So he went in and stole some food. He was invited to dinner. What else to do with the people who were really nice to you? Like why did he steal food? They asked him to come eat.

The door was open. Okay, cool. Hey, only people that have been nice to me. Fuck you. Yeah. Well, the door's open, I can kill them. He then went upstairs to look for valuables to steal. When he looked in the closet, he found the hole that led to the attic.

Oh god. Basically, he was in terrible shape. His lungs were making it difficult for him to get around and he was at the end of his rope. Yeah, time to go live in a stinky hole with spiders. He was looking at facing another cold winter out in the elements and he just couldn't do it. He needed a place to stay.

So he climbed in the hole and went to sleep. I mean, it's low standards, I guess. The attic was about four feet wide at the bottom and tapered to a point about three feet high or more than a coffin. So about 12 square cigar boxes? Yeah, about 12, yeah, about 12 CG. Okay, cool, cool. He didn't know how long he was going to stay.

Whenever he heard Philip in the home, he would remain still. Jesus. Then as the days went by, he became more daring and he started shadowing Philip from room to room in the walls. Jesus fucking monster. Jesus. It was like a game to him. He felt like the first time he'd ever had anyone at his mercy.

I mean, I think you're at his mercy a little bit too. Crazy low self. You're at the mercy of walls. Crazy low self esteem. Yeah, when you're like finally a relationship. It's like we're dating. Then one day over a month later, Theodore was getting some food out of the fridge when Philip walked in.

He thought Philip. He thought Philip was out of the house, but he had just taken a nap. Philip turned to run for help and without thinking, Theodore grabbed the iron stove shaker and hit him and hit him and hit him and hit him until Philip was dead. Okay. Then he washed the shaker. A little strange decision making. I mean, he was going to run away.

Not good on his feet. Yep. I mean, you know, he was running away. Wait, try that. I know you. Hey, I'm hungry. Hey, I'm hungry and you're good. Nice to me.

Totally hungry. Hey. Sleeping upstairs. So he washed off the shaker and dried it with a towel, then he went back into his attic. After the police found the body. Why back to the ad? I mean, I guess because of the cops. Where is he going to go?

Well, you do. That's his home. Yeah. Well, you do have a whole home now. You've murdered someone. Right. After the police found the body, one of them tried to open a trapdoor to the attic, but Theodore sat on it so he couldn't get it open.

That classic foil. Yeah. I don't know. It moves a little. If I push hard, let's get out of here. Come on. Get in. So he stayed.

And then Miss Peters and her nurse came. He was like, oh, for fuck's sake. Oh, come on. I had to shit down. Jesus. And so he remained. Then summer came and it was terrible and hot in the walls and the attic, but it was worth it to have somewhere to stay.

He had no idea why he stayed in the crawl spaces for so long. Maybe it was because it was his own world in there and there was no one to mock him or laugh at him. Sometimes he'd go down and watch the mailman. I mean, this is a life. Oh, shit. It's 2 30. I got to move.

This is living. He's got to go through the walls. So the highlight of my day. So the lady and the nurse had moved out. So there's no food in here. So he's just like fucking starving in a hole in a hole like Saddam Hussein. When he saw strangers on the street, he felt anger and would go back into his attic. That's interesting.

He's motherfucking goddamn son walking around without people laughing at their hands. So he was arrested in charge for the murder. The press dubbed Theodore the Spider-Man of Denver after police detective Fred Sarnow said, quote, a man would have to be a spider to stand it long up there. Also because of his wide eyes and long slender fingers and the spider webs in the attic. I mean, is this the origin of Spider-Man? There's no way he didn't eat a spider. Oh, God.

Or a fly. No fucking way. Oh, geez. He was sentenced to life in prison. Which is a dream. He's been living in a fucking hole with no food. Right. Right.

He gets in prison. He's like, oh, holy shit. I'm a king. Oh, look at all these mashed potatoes. Oh, heck. And picked a lock with my fingers. Hey, cool. He entered the prison on November 18, 1942 and died at the prison hospital on May 16,

1967. He is buried in Mount Vail Cemetery in Woodpecker Hill. Woodpecker. How about that? Sounds like a bird. How about that creep? I mean, that creep? Yeah.

Yeah. Now, there is a movie. That's why you don't play the mandolin. I've always said that. Right? Yeah. Thank you. You're going to get a freak living in your walls and you're going to get your husband.

That's how it all starts. Yeah. There is a guy. How the fuck was I going to say? There's a guy. I did say that, didn't I? Yeah. There was a movie in the 70s, and where I lived, we had this, we had the 330 movie on

Channel 7 on ABC every day, and it was always a weird. Every day? Yeah. Monday through Friday. Spoiled. And it was always some weird, crazy movie. And there was one made for TV movie called Bad Ronald. Bad Ronald?

And Bad Ronald's a story clearly based on this, a story of a kid who was weird and a girl was laughing at him and he pushed her over on her bike and he killed her. And then he went home and his mom was like, well, I have to hide you. And so he lived in like a space in the middle of the house that was behind all the walls, you know? Oh my God. And he could go between the walls. Yeah.

And the only way to get in now was his board under the pantry. Right. So he'd come in and get food and stuff. And then his mom went to have surgery and she died and a new family moved in. Oh, God. And he would just like watch them and it was obsessed. There was like three girls and he was obsessed with them and Dabney Coleman was the dad. And he like created this fake world called Narnia in there, like Narnia where he'd paint

pictures of the girl. More Turkish delight. It's just like a rat's guts. And then one night he carved little holes so he could see through and then one night he left the light on and fell asleep, I think, and then a girl saw the light coming out and he crashed to the wall and then, yeah. But it clearly was based on this. Bad Ronald, highly recommend it.

If you're in that position, you just say surprise and smile and then hope that you could fucking sell yourself out of something. I'm dating myself. But what about Kool-Aid? Kool-Aid. Yeah. Kool-Aid. Kool-Aid.

Yeah. But you're covered in blood. Same thing. Hey. All right. So that's the story of the Spider-Man at Denver. Normal. Just another normal story.

Completely normal. Just another normal tale. All right, girls.