The NoSleep Podcast - S18 Ep22: NoSleep Podcast S18E22

Episode Date: November 27, 2022

Tune in to Episode 22 of Season 18 for twisted tales. "Scrapple" written by Warren Benedetto (Story starts around 00:02:10) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Narrator - Erin Lillis, Mike - Graham Rowat "That's What Friends Are For" written by K.G. Lewis (Story starts around 00:06:15) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Jeff Clement Cast: Ricky - Matthew Bradford, Xavier - Kyle Akers, Mr. Reese - Dan Zappulla "Hal" written by Alexa Simpkins (Story starts around 00:21:45) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Narrator - Nichole Goodnight, Man - Graham Rowat "It's Not as Far as You Think" written by M.J. Pack (Story starts around 00:27:40) Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Narrator - Sarah Thomas, Old Man - Jesse Cornett "Armed" written by Dominic Breeze (Story starts around 00:45:05) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: David - Peter Lewis, Jeremy - Graham Rowat, On-Hold Voiceover - David Cummings, Roxy - Wafiyyah White, Customer Service Voiceover - Linsay Rousseau "Gag" written by Neil Krolicki (Story starts around 00:54:00) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Parker - Jeff Clement, Rory - Dan Zappulla, Driver #1 - Atticus Jackson, Driver #2 - Elie Hirschman, Buzzcut - Jesse Cornett, Soccer Mom - Linsay Rousseau, Mr. Hollings - Kyle Akers "Me, Mizell, and Inspector Hole-in-the-Face" written by Tor-Anders Ulven (Story starts around 01:25:30) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Jesse Cornett Cast: Sarah - Mary Murphy, Mizell - Elie Hirschman, Freddy - Atticus Jackson, Mom - Kristen DiMercurio, Dad - David Cummings, Detective - Mick Wingert This episode is sponsored by: Green Chef - Green Chef makes eating well easy with plans to fit every lifestyle. Whether you're Keto, Paleo, Vegan, Vegetarian, Gluten-Free, or just looking to eat more balanced meals, Green Chef offers a range of recipes to suit your preferences. Go to greenchef.com/nosleep599 and use code nosleep599 to get $5.99 per meal on your 1st box and your 1st box ships free! Betterhelp - This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. Give online therapy a try at betterhelp.com/nosleep and get on your way to being your best self. Click here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast team Click here to learn more about Bradon's soundtrack for "This Book Will Kill You" Click here to learn more about Dan Zappulla's album, "With All That I Know Now" Click here to learn more about Warren Benedetto Click here to learn more about Alexa Simpkins Click here to learn more about M.J. Pack Click here to learn more about Tor-Anders Ulven   Executive Producer & Host: David Cummings Musical score composed by: Brandon Boone "It's Not as Far as You Think" illustration courtesy of Kelly Turnbull Audio program ©2022 - Creative Reason Media Inc. - All Rights Reserved - No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media Inc. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The No Sleep Podcast gets hungry for the 1990s. Ah, the 90s. Remember the food commercials back then? I feel like chicken tonight, gray pupon mustard. And of course, sunny D. These days, buying and prepping food is a lot easier and more convenient, like when you use Green Chef. Green Chef is a CCOF certified meal kit company.

Green Chef makes eating well easy with plans to fit every lifestyle, Whether you're keto, paleo, vegan, vegetarian, gluten-free, or just looking to eat more balanced meals, Green Chef offers a range of recipes to suit your preferences. And you've heard me talk about Hello Fresh in the past. Green Chef is now owned by Hello Fresh, and with a wider array of meal plans to choose from, there's something for everyone. I love switching between the brands, and now you can enjoy both brands at a no-sleep discount with me. Green Chef is the number one meal kit for eating well.

with dinners that work for you, not the other way around. I love all the keto options Green Chef has. It makes sticking to a carb-conscious lifestyle easy. Some of my favorite Green Chef meals include beef patties with creamy chimmy-churie and Mediterranean-style chicken salad. Delish. Green Chef's pre-made and pre-measured sauces, dressings, and spices get you more chef-cureated flavor in less time. So listen, go to Green Chef.com.

slash no sleep 599 and use code no sleep 599 to get $5.99 per meal on your first box. And your first box ships free. You heard me right. Go to greenchef.com slash no sleep 599 and use code no sleep 599 to get 599 per meal on your first box. And yes, that first box ships free. Green Chef, the number one meal kit for, eating well. And now that we've wetted your appetite, let's start some delicious horror. I'll have the scrapple, I said. The waitress glanced at the fist-sized bruise on my arm,

then at Mike. I nodded. She jotted on her pad. Coffee. Mike thrust the menu at the waitress. Black. The waitress disappeared into the kitchen. Through the swinging doors, I saw her hand my order to the cook. He read it, then looked out at me. Eye contact. A small nod. What even is, Scrapple? Pork bits. Lips, nips, and assholes. The cook emerged from the kitchen. He approached Mike from behind. Meet Cleaver in hand. Mostly assholes. He frightened. We desire a glimpse into the darkness. We conjure creatures and monsters. all the while knowing deep in our souls. The terror is out there.

Brace yourself for the no-sleep podcast. Furt food can be good for the body and soul, but as the saying goes, you might not want to know how the sausage gets made. That's what we learned from author Warren Benedetto, from the tale which was this episode's cold open. Scrapple, performed, by Aaron Lillis and Graham Rowett.

I'm sure all of you are loving the Christmas music that's bombarding your ears these days. Rudolph, Frosty, Mariah Carey, you can't get enough, and you just love it. However, if you want something more, well, let's say, un-Christmassy to listen to these days, I have two recommendations. The first is from a man whose music you know and love.

Our very own maestro, Brandon Boone, has recently released the soundtrack he wrote for the series, This Book Will Kill You, a great album of dark and intense music which perfectly matched the tone of that amazing story. Well worth listening to with the lights off. The second recommendation is from another member of the No Sleep Team, but not someone you might expect.

Our very own Dan Zapula has recently released an excellent album of original tunes called With All That I Know Now, With rock-pop roots and thoughtful lyrics, you'll discover that Dan isn't just a talented voice actor and podcaster. He's also a gifted songwriter and singer. Check the show notes to learn more about these two great projects or search for them wherever you find your music these days. It's a good thing to do, so be good for goodness sake. And now, our stories are starting.

You'd better not leave. Our tales are quite true if you want. to believe. In our first tale, we meet two young friends, and a friend is definitely what Xavier needs to help cope with his alcoholic father. And in this tale, shared with us by author K.G. Lewis, we learn that Ricky is willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. Performing this tale are Matthew Bradford, Kyle Akers, and Dan Zapula. So be there for your buddy whenever you're needed. After all, that's what friends are for. Over and looked at the Death Star-shaped clock on my bedroom wall again,

one of the many Star Wars-themed gifts I'd received that year. There weren't any numbers on the face of it, so it took me a moment to figure out what time it was. If I was reading it correctly, it was 11.59 p.m. Time to go, I said to myself, throwing off the covers and swinging my legs out of bed. Even though it was late and I'd been lying in my room, room for several hours, I was fully dressed. The only thing I didn't have on were my shoes,

which was sitting on the floor next to the bed where I could slip them on quickly. I'd kept my clothes on because I wanted to make as little noise as possible when I snuck out of the house. I couldn't risk my parents catching me. If they did, it would ruin everything my friend Xavier and I had planned. After I'd put my shoes on, I crept over to the bedroom door and placed my ear against it, listening to see if I heard anyone out in the hall. As late as it was, I didn't expect to hear anyone, but I wanted to be sure before I opened the window. The window wasn't as quiet as I'd like, but it was the quickest and easiest way out of the house. If one of my parents were out in the hall when I opened it, they'd surely hear me. Satisfied that the coast was clear,

I walked over to the window, unlatched it, and slowly began to push it up. Once it was open, I waited a minute to see if my parents had heard me. When neither of them appeared, I climbed outside into the backyard. Xavier's house was next door, so I didn't have far to go. After hopping over the fence between our yards, I ran over to the patio door that led into his basement. I knocked lightly on the door. It's me, Xavier, open the door.

Hurry before somebody sees me. He promised that he would be waiting to unlock the door for me at midnight. That was the time we'd agreed upon. Somewhere in the neighborhood, a dog barked. The sudden noise startled me enough that I almost went running back home. The only thing that stopped me was the sound of the deadbolt being unlatched. I didn't wait for Xavier to open the door. I grabbed the knob and let myself in, closing the door quickly and quietly behind me.

You came? Yeah, of course I came. I gave him an exasperated look. I said I would, didn't I? Xavier nodded and gave him. me a weak smile. I'm glad you did, but you didn't have to. I wouldn't have been upset if you changed your mind.

I'm not changing my mind. It's about time somebody did something about your dad. I could feel my anger rising as I spoke. My mom left. A couple days ago. What? I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Why didn't you tell me?

Savior dropped his head and shrugged his shoulders. I guess I did. I didn't want you to feel sorry for me. And I figured she'd come back like she always does. She will come back for me, won't she? I shook my head. I don't think she will. I think she's gone for good this time.

I felt terrible saying that to him, but it was the truth. Xavier's mother wasn't a much better parent than his father. She'd run out on the more times than I could remember, only to return a week later. But this time was different. This time I was absolutely sure she wasn't coming back. He kept his eyes on the floor as he spoke. You're probably right.

Where's your dad? I asked trying to keep Xavier from moping. If he were treated into himself, I didn't think I'd be able to follow through with her plan. It's his fault she's gone, I reminded him. Where he usually is? That meant his dad was passed out in the living room recliner, having drunk himself into a stupor.

I walked over to the stairs leading out of the basement. Let's go. When I reached the landing at the top, I stopped and waited for Xavier to catch up, then pushed the door open in a crack. Careful. Nobody's cleaned the kitchen in a couple weeks. I can tell.

I scrunched up my face as the smell of rotten food wafted over us. But that wasn't what Xavier was warning me about. He was warning me about the minefield of discarded beer cans and bottles that littered nearly every available space in the kitchen, including the floor. If I accidentally knocked one over, it could start a chain reaction that would surely wake his dad up. I ease the door open far enough for me to squeeze through, hoping there weren't any cans or bottles behind it as I did so. Thankfully, there weren't. Where is it? In my parents' room.

As quickly and quietly as I could, I walked over and around all of the cans and bottles on the kitchen floor until I made it to the hallway. Even though it was after midnight, most of the lights in the house were still on. If they weren't, I wouldn't have been able to make it out of the kitchen without bumping into something. Make sure he's still asleep. If his dad happened to get up to go to the bathroom or grab another beer and see me while I was walking down the hall, he'd call my parents. and then I'd never get another chance to help Xavier. I waited just outside the kitchen while Xavier crept over to the living room and peaked his head around the corner. A moment later, he looked back and gave me a thumbs up, confirming that his dad was still asleep.

Keep watch, I mouthed him as I pointed my finger in the direction of the living room. He nodded his head in understanding. Having spent a lot of time at Xavier's house, I already knew which room belonged to his parents and quickly made my way over to the appropriate door. Wait. I jumped and nearly pissed my pants. You scared the shit out of me. You're supposed to be keeping watch.

I jab my finger in the direction of a living room. Sorry, I just forgot to tell you that he doesn't keep it loaded anymore. It was a good thing he told me that. An unloaded gun wasn't going to do me much good. Where does he keep the bullets? In the nightstand, next to the bed. The left one. Got it.

I reached out and opened the bedroom door. Now go keep watch. Savior nodded and ran back down the hall. As soon as I was in his parents' room, I walked around the bed and knelt next to it, reaching for the case that I knew was hidden beneath it. When my hands brushed against the handle, I grabbed it and pulled it out.

The case was solid black and made out of thick plastic. Two large red clasps, also plastic, held it shut. There was a little hole behind the handle where he could insert a lock, but there wasn't one there now. While sitting on my knees, I laid the case on the bed, popped open the clasps, and lifted the lid. Revealing a shiny silver revolver with a wooden hand grip nestled in a foam recess. My hand was shaking when I lifted the gun out of the case. even though I'd held it in my hand before it felt a lot heavier than I remember it

looks like I'm really doing this the weight of what I was about to do didn't hit me until that moment I took a deep breath and slowly let it out trying to calm my racing heartbeat he deserves it I reminded myself I pushed the cylinder open with my thumb

checking to see if it was unloaded as Xavier had said it was After getting to my feet, I walked over to the nightstand, the one on the left side of the bed, and pulled open the drawer. Inside it was a bunch of junk, along with a couple boxes of ammunition. I opened the nearest box and took out six bullets, setting them on top of the nightstand. Feeling a bit weak in the knees, I sat down on the bed and put the bullets into the cylinder of the gun, my hands trembling the entire time. When I was done, I pushed the cylinder back into place and slowly stood back up.

This is for Xavier. I held on to that thought as I walked down the hall and into the living room. You don't have to do this. I'll be fine. You call this fine. I scoffed at him, gesturing at the mess of dirty clothes and empty food cartons strewn about the room. In that mess, I was able to find an old notebook of Xavier's and a pen. I took both of them and tossed them onto his dad's lap where he was asleep in the recliner. That startled him awake with a snoring.

What's this? Mr. Reese fumbled to pick up the notebook to see what it was. I walked in front of him and raised the revolver, pointing it at his head. He didn't notice me until he heard the click of the hammer being pulled back. Ricky, what are you doing? He let the notebook fall back into his lap as he raised. raised his hands to shield himself from the gun. I'm helping my friend.

I don't understand. He started to slowly lower the seat rest of the recliner, intending to stand up. Stay where you are. I jabbed the gun in his direction to emphasize my demand. Okay. He let the seat rest return to its original position. During the entire exchange between his dad and me, Xavier just stood in the corner of the hallway watching us. Pick up the notebook in the pen.

I gestured at Mr. Reese's lap with a gun. Why don't you lower the gun so we can talk about this? Pick them up. Okay. He grabbed the notebook in one hand and frantically search for the pen with the other. Then he held them up for me to see. I picked them up. What do you want me to do with them?

I want you to tell everyone what you did. I don't know what you were referring to. I couldn't tell if he was lying to buy himself some time or if he was actually that ignorant. What you did to Xavier. I looked over at my friend when I said his name. My eyes started to tear up as I was suddenly overcome with a strong feeling of grief. I didn't.

Don't lie to me. I couldn't bear to hear him say he didn't do it. Xavier told me what really happened that day. Xavier told you? He looked at me like I'd grown a second head. You know that's not possible, Ricky. Why don't you tell me what this is really about? He did tell me.

If you don't believe me, ask him yourself. I gestured at Xavier. He's standing right behind you. Mr. Reese slowly turned his head and looked towards the hallway. There's nobody there. You know he can't see me. It doesn't matter. I steadied the gun with both of my hands and aimed it at the center of his father's forehead.

He's still going to tell everyone what he did. Okay. What do you want me to write? Write, I did it. The police will know what you're referring to. He quickly wrote in the notebook, the three short words taking up most of the page. Like this? He held the notebook up for me to see.

That's perfect. I took a step towards him. Now set it all in your lap. He set the notebook in his lap and then set the pen on top of it, looking up at me. Now what? It took me three quick steps to walk over to the recliner and place the gun against his temple. Once he realized what I was about to do, he reached up and grabbed a hold of the revolver, but he was too late. I was already applying pressure to the trigger.

I closed my eyes and turned away as the gun roared to life in my hand. A second later, something warm and wet splattered across my arm in the side of my face. Time seemed to stand still, freezing me in place. I was so out of it that I hadn't realized that Xavier had been yelling at me for some time, trying to get through the paralysis that had taken hold of me. I looked down at the gun in my blood-spattered hand and relaxed my fingers, letting it fall to the floor. They're going to know you shot him if you don't stage things like you planned. I barely remember what happened next.

All I know is that Xavier had to repeatedly coax me to wipe my fingerprints off the gun before putting it in his father's hand, making it look like he had committed suicide. Thanks. I acknowledged his gratitude with a weak smile, even though I felt sick to my stomach. What do you think is going to happen to you now? Xavier Shrugged.

Hopefully, I'll be able to move on to whatever comes next once everyone knows the truth. The truth, being that Mr. Reese accidentally shot Xavier during an argument, with his wife. He didn't know Xavier was standing nearby watching the fight when he fired a warning shot to intimidate his wife, a shot that struck Xavier, killing him instantly. Not wanting to go to jail for what he'd done. He staged the scene to make it look like Xavier was playing with a gun and accidentally shot himself. He threatened his wife, making sure she went along with the story.

Xavier showed up at my house the day after his funeral and told me all of this. And as his best and only friend, I vowed to help him in any way I could. I guess this is goodbye then. I guess it is. When you lose someone close to you, the adjustment period can be extremely difficult. Grief and loss are heartbreaking. But in this tale, shared with us by author Alexa Simpkins, we meet a woman who still feels deeply connected to her deceased husband in very tangible ways.

Performing this tale are Nicole Goodnight and Graham Rowett. So learn to grieve and move on, even without your beloved Hal. It had been three months since he died. The road to recovery is long and hard, and in this case, also unsuccessful. No matter how much morphine the hospice nurse gave him, him, he was still in pain. The cancer latched onto every organ it could and would not release its literal death grip on him until every last bit of life was gone. My hal, who once gave me strength, needed mine. His rich chocolate brown eyes morphed to a flat hard brown. His strong,

tan arms got more brittle with each week. His smile, once his most notable feature, shrank from a grin to a smirk to a flat line. The man I knew and loved faded before my eyes and in this one solitary moment in the middle of the night? I yearned for his touch more than I ever had since his passing. You can imagine my surprise when I felt it. A cool, thin hand reaching around the covers to find mine as lonely sobs escaped my lips. I gasped when I felt it, then recoiled and turned on the light. Nothing there.

Oh, good Lord, I scolded. Get a grip. Grief can make you do weird things. Imagine things even. It can make you want things, too. So the next night, body racked with mournful cries, I found myself wishing again to feel his hand, bony and pale for months of withering away. It would have been nicer to feel his strong, reassuring hand.

But his hand in any form was comforting to me nonetheless. I reached my hand out and heard a stirring from the edge of the bed. There was his hand again, reaching across the endless sea of sheets and blankets. I gripped it and squeezed. It squeezed back. After a quick inhale, I glanced at the tall, standing mirror in the corner that faces my bed in closet. Reaching upwards from the depths of darkness under my bed, I saw a long, spindly arm, twisting its way up the mattress to meet my own.

I screamed when I saw it, but quickly stifled myself. Here was hell, coming back from whatever the hell the beyond was, maybe even hell itself, because God knows we did some crazy things in our youth to comfort me, to help me through my grief. And I was going to reject him because he appeared as he did in his last days to me? Would I dare insult him by being repulsed by his final form? No. So I squeezed his cold, bony fingers and fell asleep once more. Since the screaming incident, things have started to go sour.

Jewelry that Hal gave me has slowly gone missing. I begged and pleaded to thin air for forgiveness that I had only been startled by his appearance, but I welcomed it nonetheless. It didn't matter. He still tried to erase the only parts of him that I had left. The night after this begging incident was the last straw. I lay in what was once our bed alone and inconsolable. But a thought struck my mind, and once I had realized it, my grief turned to anger.

Our vows had sat in sickness and in health, not in death, and I had held up my end of the bargain by God. I had sat by his bedside and wiped every tear, given every sponge bath, spooned every last bit of food into his drying mouth. I would not stand for this punishment any longer. Hell, I breathed, and the hand snaked upwards once more. Seeing it in the reflection of my mirror gave me goosebumps, but I fought them and pounced off the bed.

He started to recoil, but I was too fast. I leaped to the edge of the bed and looked under, daring to confront my husband one last time. I let out a blood-curdling scream. The specter was not my husband. In fact, he wasn't a spectre at all. He was a man. A fully human, living, breathing, man and he looked at me as if I were the ghost myself. It has now been six months since

Hal died, and it has been eight since the man came to live in our house unbeknownst to us. He lived in the crawl spaces, under the bed, in the attic, anywhere he could in order to keep to the shadows and live off of our backs. It was no wonder that Hal's morphine gave him no relief. This thief had replaced it with saline and taken the drug for himself. My jewelry had not gone missing due to Hal's ghostly wrath. It had been pawned at a shop down the street. When I was brought to court to testify against this monster, I had only one question for him.

His deeds were selfish through and through, and I could see motive in all except for one. Why? I demanded, as handcuffs encircled his pale, bony rests. Why hold my hand through the night from underneath my bed? He stared for a moment, then grinned wickedly at my ignorance as he answered. Your wedding ring was still on your finger. These days, driving.

long distances feels easy. None of those big paper maps to unfold and follow. No guessing which exit to take. We now have phones and apps which map our directions from door to door. But in this tale, shared with us by author MJ Pack, we meet a woman who loses her GPS signal and discovers she has no idea how to get to her destination. Performing this tale are Sarah Thomas and Jesse Cornett. So don't rely too much on technology. You might not find your way, even if it's not as far as you think. He was not someone I would normally ask for directions. Actually, in a normal situation, I would never ask for directions.

I use my GPS because I don't trust my own sense of direction, even one little bit. But my phone had died, and when I went to plug the damn thing in, the little metal part that slides into your phone's port broke off, and I angrily threw the stupid cord out the window. So, essentially, I was lost. I just needed to get to Chicago before it got dark. The light was waning, setting the Illinois sky aflame with pinks and oranges. The thing about driving through Illinois is there's a lot of just flat, plain land.

You can drive for almost 100 miles on the same goddamn highway, looking at the same goddamn cornfields over and over, Sometimes soybean fields, if you're lucky enough to get a break from the corn, and still not reach your destination. It can get very old, and it can make you tired. So I had no desire to drive down these long, straight, boring as buck roads in the dark. Anyway, I had pulled off the highway into the parking lot of a little gas station. To say it was nothing special would be an understatement.

The storefront was paneled with slats of wood where the white paint had peeled in places. There was a small square window to the left of the door, just next to a payphone, and I can't remember the last time I saw one of those. Above the door was what looked to be a handmade sign that read open in carved out letters. Behind the counter was an old man. One of those men who look so old you think to yourself, how are you still alive? But not in a mean way, you know, just kind of like, holy shit, you look like. keep along in the ground. Sorry, I guess that was mean. It's not as far as you think. He moved his mouth around in the way that some old men do. His skin was leathery brown. And can you

blame him? It's not like his generation warned him about the danger of skin cancer. They probably told him to put Crisco on himself to get a better tan. I heard that from my grandma. Okay, so I just get back on the highway? I glanced outside, sighed heavily, and looked back to him. And where do I go from there? I'm so sorry, I'm lost without my GPS. I appreciate the help. He smiled, revealing only a handful of teeth. Again, trying not to judge, but that's just the way it is. He had less teeth than the average person, far less, in fact. Yes, punk. He said it like that, where he didn't pronounce the MP and substituted an N, Punkin.

Just hop back on the highway, drive straight down towards the sunset, and look for the signs. You'll find it. All right, I will. Thank you so much. I turned away from his counter and his mouth with very few teeth, and for a moment considered buying something just to make his effort worth his while, but then decided against it. Once I was in my car, I started the engine and felt the whole car rumbling beneath me. Oh, great. On top of being lost, now my car was acting up. I waited a moment to see if it would

putter out or start smoking, but it didn't. The car just rumbled a little harder than normal. You have to understand. One of my major flaws is flying by the seat of my pants. I'm And I just assumed I could make it to Chicago and get it checked out there. I definitely didn't want to stop at one of these little hit towns and have some grease-stained mechanics screw me over just because he could. I put my car in gear, pulled away from the little gas station, and got back on the highway, driving towards the sunset. As much as I hated the cornfields and soybeans, I did like the sunset.

It reminded me of Sherbert I used to eat as a child, all orange and yellow, and now purple. I drove for a while, hating the fact that I didn't have my phone to play music with. I hated driving in silence. I started fiddling with the radio. I hit mostly static, but then a husky-voiced woman started to sing, some song that sounded like it was out of the 1960s, with a lot of horns and percussion. Fuck, I guess this would do. Better than nothing at all. As I drove the long straightaway, trying to ignore the cornfields that had started to irrationally piss me off, something on the side of the road caught my eye. A bright yellow knapsack, covered in odd patches that were too far away to see what they read

or what pictures were stitched on them. I looked for road signs. I didn't see any, until a green sign loomed ahead of me. I started to slow because it was the only one indicating an exit, except it couldn't be the right one, because that sign read Sleeper, and Sleeper was the exact same exit I had pulled off of earlier to talk to the mostly toothless old man. My car rumbled beneath me, jingling the trinkets I had hanging from my rearview mirror, a keychain with a rose quartz crystal, a dead air freshener I should have already replaced, a poorly made friendship bracelet from my boyfriend that spelled out my name. Dinah, surrounded by various cheap plastic beads. They made an unpleasant clinking sound that irritated me so much,

I jerked the wheel and took the exit, pulling into the same gas station's parking lot, seeing the same peeling white paint and antiquated payphone. As I walked beneath the hand-carved sign, I had a sense of deja vu. But is it really deja vu if you know you've been there before? The old man behind the counter smiled at me, revealing his lack of teeth. Hmm, back again.

I thought I told you. It's not that far. I was irritated, but didn't want to argue. I followed your directions. I went straight down the road towards the sunset, and I ended up back here. Hmm, you must have got turned around. He regarded me with the sort of look you'd give a child who's lost their parent in a shopping mall. It's really easy. It's not as far as you think. Just get back on the highway. Look for the signs. You'll get where you need to go.

I gritted my teeth. This was the exact same thing he told me before. I said thank you. And this time when I left, I didn't feel obligated to buy anything. Driving down the highway, car rumbling beneath me. It was probably one. rumbling because I had a deer earlier that night. I had hope since there wasn't a lot of damage to my car, maybe it wouldn't be a big deal, but that rumbling was making me nervous. All the stupid stuff on my rearview mirror clinking together. I didn't appreciate the colors of the sunset now. I just had to get to Chicago. It was still dusk. Why was it still dusk? I looked at the clock on my dashboard and it said 908, which meant it should be dark by now. I banged my fist on it, thinking it was just balty wiring, but no use. It still read 908, and the sky was still full of color. After a few miles,

I saw a dog on the side of the road, a dog with a rich brown and black coat, a German shepherd. I love animals, so when I saw he was limping, I pulled over right away. It didn't matter that I was trying to get to Chicago before dark, because I was obviously running late. But a stray dog on the side of a mostly abandoned highway? No, I couldn't let that go. At the very least, I'd check his collar. Or if he didn't have one, I'd take him to a humane society. Maybe I have more empathy for animals than people? I don't know. I slowed my car to a stop, trying not to spook him. The dog stood at attention as soon as I opened my car door. His ears perked. "'Come here, buddy,' I crooned, trying to coax him towards me.

I also did that weird thing everyone does when they're trying to get an animal to come to them, a motion with my hand that looks like you're trying to scoop something out of the air. He growled immediately, and not the kind of growl that a dog gives because he wants to play, the kind of growl that means, get any closer to me and I'll bite your face off. If it had been a West Highland Terrier, maybe I would have tried harder, because I know that kind of dog couldn't truly hurt me. But a German shepherd? No.

They used those for police work, so no way I was ready to tackle with that. I'd seen plenty of videos online to know that German shepherds are nothing to fuck with. I put my hands up in a gesture of surrender and slowly, carefully, back into my car. I started it up again. The car rumbled.

My stupid trinkets jingled. I glanced in my wrist. review mirror. The German Shepherd was still there, snarling at me. The lady on the radio said again, wishing yet again I had my Spotify playlist and my GPS, I got back onto the highway after carefully signaling left. Not like I needed to. The highway was strangely empty. Well, how can I forget you, girl. I drove, kind of tuning out the song from the 60s, trying to forget the dog I'd left in my rearview mirror. I drove towards the sunset. I looked for the signs. There were no signs helping me on my way to Chicago, but I saw something stranded on the side of the road. A cup's hat, a baseball hat.

It was a skew, stuck in the tall grass near a soybean field. I kept driving. I saw the end of exit. Sleeper. It shouldn't have been there because I already took that exit, but what was I supposed to do? I took it, because I knew that was the only place I could talk to anyone. I shut off that damn song and went into the gas station, the same gas station I'd already been in twice. Of course, the same old man was behind the counter, and I should have known that because it was the exact same fucking gas station I'd already pulled into so many times before. The sky was still the same goddamn sunset. I'm back, I said as I walked through the white doors. Of course you are. He smiled without many teeth. Then he gave me a look that was almost fatherly.

You can't find your way? No. I was on the verge of tears. Pungan. At this time, it didn't bother me because it didn't feel condescending. It felt genuinely affectionate. That weren't no dear you hit. You know that, right. I didn't mean to. He actually came around the counter to hold me in his bony arms.

I collapsed there, crying, hoping this whole thing was a nightmare. It's not as far as you think. He rubbed my back in soothing little circles. Just hop back on the highway. I'm embarrassed to admit that I cried into this old man's shirt, probably leaving mascara stains there. But when I was done, I straightened up and said, he still rubbed a comforting hand over my back. Okay, I agreed, and I left, still not barring. a single thing from his shop. I got back into my car. I took the exit. As I merged, the trinkets

hanging from my window kept clinking, so I grabbed them and tore them down, destroying my rearview mirror in the process. No matter, I took the handful of junk and threw it out my driver's side window. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. But then, I saw the exit sign, the first one that I'd seen since I'd seen sleeper over and over and over. This exit was for another town. Suddenly, my phone sprung to life. The GPS focused in on a location. Right off the highway was a police station.

I knew what I was supposed to do. So I hit my blinker and took the exit, and I prepared myself to tell them about the hitchhiker with the dog that I had hit with my car earlier that day, because I simply wasn't paying attention. The one I left lying in the road miles back, probably a few miles before sleeper, because I was too scared to tell anyone.

But I knew if I didn't tell anyone, if I didn't turn myself in, I would be stuck on this road forever, going to the same gas station forever. Always being told, it's not as far as you think. And as I barreled towards the exit, my car rumbling, the front of it beaten and back,

and covered in blood. I saw that the dusk was finally fading. The sun had gone down, and it was finally getting dark outside. Finally, finally. I let out the breath I'd been holding in, and carefully, slowly, exited the highway, ready to tell the truth, because it's not as far as you think.

That story is a good lesson about the importance of getting help. And there's good help, and then there's better help. And lucky for us, this show is sponsored by Better Help. Getting directions for driving is usually pretty easy, but not everything in life is as easy as opening an app and following turn-by-turn instructions. As we know, life doesn't come with an instruction manual. So when it's not working for you, it's normal to feel stuck. Navigating any of life's challenges can make you feel unsure,

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That's betterh-elp.com. No Sleep. Thanks to BetterHelp for sponsoring this episode. Now, back to the horror. And unlike BetterHelp's affordable service, this next story might just cost you an arm and a leg. Scientific advancements have helped humanity in so many ways. Consider the field of prosthetics.

Within a generation, we've gone from rudimentary hooks and stumps to today's high-tech, fully functional devices. But in this tale, shared with us, by author Dominic Breeze. We meet a man who's having trouble with his new prosthetic device. If only the company that made it could give him a helping hand. I join Peter Lewis, Mick Wingert, Wafia White, and Lindsay Russo in performing this tale. So try to remain calm.

I'm sure you can protect yourself, even after you've been armed. Intelligence, beauty. Engineered and manufactured in the USA. using a NASA-approved mylar composite, WonderLim is the world's most advanced multi-grip bionic arm. With WonderLim, you are free to do all the things you were born to do. Drive a car, ride a bike, type at a computer, pitch a baseball, even hold hands with a loved one.

The only limit is your imagination. WonderLim, reaching confidently towards a better tomorrow. Sorry, we're working hard to take your call. on the line and one of our customer care representatives will be with you as soon as possible. We thank you for your patience. Our range of state-of-the-art arm and leg prostheses feature more than 500 highly sensitive brain function modeling transmitters that allow users the freedom of effortless control.

WonderLim is lightweight and fully customizable. Choose from our wide selection of interchangeable sleeves in a stunning range of colors and designs. Wonderlim is completely waterproof. You can even wear it in the shower. Hello, you're through to the Wonderlim customer care team. My name is Roxy. How may I help you today?

Roxy, listen very carefully. I need your help. Yes, sir. How may I assist you today? I need to speak with Jeremy Zhang. I'm sure I can assist you, sir. What exactly is the nature of your call? Roxy, this is an emergency. I need to speak to Jeremy. Do you have somebody there called Jeremy Zhang?

Sir, Mr. Shung is the CEO of Wonderland. He doesn't typically take customer calls. I'm sure I can help you with any questions you might have. This really is very urgent. I'm sorry, sir. I know his husband. Tell him that I know Frederick. I know his daughter, Lucy. I am a family friend. Please tell him that. One moment, sir. Turn your disability into durability with Wonderlim. The patented Wonderlim design is sleek, powerful, and elegant, dual engineered for practicality and strength. Our Wonderlim arms and legs can be worn with all styles of clothing, from sportswear to dinner gowns and tuxedos.

Wonderlim offers a choice of 25 different colors and more than 100 customizable designs. Wonderlim truly works for all occasions. But more than good looking, Wonderlim is a miracle of modern technology. Wonderlim has been designed with the user in mind and replicates all the natural movement of a living, biological arm or leg. Visit one of our convenient nationwide locations today

for a free consultation. It's never been easier to upgrade your life with one... Hello, this is Jeremy Zhang. Jeremy, thank God. Who's speaking? please? My name isn't important. David, call me David, if you like. Roxanne mentioned you know my husband? That's not entirely true. I'm sorry, I had to find a way to speak with you. What can I do for you, David? I'm having some serious issues here. David, if you have a product query, it really is best if you speak with our dedicated

customer care team. No, I need to speak to you. You personally, I mean, I'm a customer. of yours, a triple amputee. I lost both my arms and a leg in Iraq. A few days ago, I decided to invest in some of your products. Well, David, thank you for calling. Please allow me to extend my thanks for choosing Wonderlin. I hope that doesn't sound trite. I don't mean it to. It's men like you that inspired me to start this company. Jeremy, please shut up and listen to me. Okay, David, how can I help. I'm in trouble. Yes, I gather that. Why'd you call me, David? That's it. That's exactly it. I didn't call you. They did. David, I'm very busy at the moment. I'm not a big fan of prank calls. This isn't a prank. Something has gone wrong. I can't take them off. They won't let me take them off.

They're malfunctioning? That would be an understatement. What's your customer number there, David? Jeremy, are you listening to me? I'm trying to help, David. I just need some more information first. Your customer number is on the opening page of your welcome pack. Can you check it for me, please? I can't check it. That's what I'm trying to tell you.

I can't do anything, not unless they want me to. Look, David, I can have an engineer come out to you. There's a call-out fee and an additional charge for a same-day visit. If this is a prank call, might I suggest you cut your losses now and hang up the phone? This isn't a prank. Please just listen to me. It started a few hours after they were fitted. They picked up a pen and just started writing.

Autonomously, I mean, completely out of my control. I was amazed at first. I thought it was a harmless glitch. It was almost funny until I tried to take them off. What models are you running over there, David? Models. I don't know. They're brand new. David, I'm going to put you on hold for a moment.

see if I can speak to an engineer. No, don't put me on hold. I'm afraid I don't have the technical expertise to deal with something like this. Tyrell Coiner, do you recognize that name? Should I? Try and think, please. It's quite a distinctive name, isn't it? Okay, David. I think I understand. Well played. Very well played.

You've got me on the phone. You've got what you wanted. So go on and say what you want to say. And try and make it quick. I really am quite busy. Jeremy, I've got no idea what you're talking about. I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark and say that you're a journalist. Am I right? Journalist? No, I'm just a customer. I already told you that. Okay, have it your way, David, or whoever you are.

There really is no need for these elaborate games. I've spoken to so many of your people already, willingly, I might add. I'll happily answer your questions. I've got nothing to hide. Jeremy, I am not a journalist. I'm not playing games. Please listen to what I'm telling you. They trashed my home, the furniture, the walls.

They attacked me. Do you understand? They smashed my face. My nose. I need help. They won't let me go to a hospital. They won't even let me pad my nose to stop the bleeding.

Tyrell Coiner, that's the name it keeps writing. It's not even my handwriting. I think he's the one doing this. I think he's the one that dialed this number. David, I'm not sure what you're trying to achieve with this performance. Everything we've done, all the research and development, all our work,

including our work with men like Tyrell Koiner, it's all 100% legal and transparent. I'm not sure how I can make it any clearer. Just read the small print on our website. I have read it. He made me read it. The small print, the hundreds of web articles. He was a prisoner, wasn't he? On death row? that's how you developed the technology.

If you have read it, you'll know that a very small percentage of our brain function modeling volunteers were inmates from the Polonski unit in Texas. Yes. Volunteers, David, that's true. We're not trying to hide anything, as I've already said. You can quote me, if you like. What did you promise them? Excuse me? You told them they'd get off, promised them a reduced sentence, something like that.

I've been trying to make sense of the writing, picking out what I can from the rambling. That's it, isn't it? You told them they'd get their lives back. We made no such promises. Tyrell Koiner did your tests, and he still got the lethal injection. He was one of your volunteers. Okay, David, if you've got no sensible questions for me, I think we're done here. You have a good day, sir. Don't hang up. Please, you have to help me.

I'm not a journalist. I'm not playing games. is holding a knife. He's only using it to scratch words into the walls at the moment, but I'm worried what he might do next. These calls are all recorded. Do you understand that? I've grounds to report you to the police. Yes, call the police. Please send help. Okay, David, I think I will call the police. I'm sure you'll be more than happy to divulge your home address to me on this recorded phone line. One Joker's Boulevard, is it? Number two, Gotcha Street? Am I anywhere close? Listen very carefully.

I'm not at my home. I'm at your home. He put me in the car and drove me here 40 hours to Arlington. He wouldn't even let me stop to rest or eat. I'm so tired. This isn't funny. And now I am calling the police. Goodbye.

Yellow wallpaper. The nursery has yellow wallpaper with little animal designs. The mobile hanging over the crib has photos of Lucy. and Frederick and you. Come home, Jeremy. Come home. That's what he keeps writing, hacking it,

into the walls over and over. God, it hurts. I need to drink, to eat, sleep. Please, whatever you do, Jeremy, don't. Come home.

I think he wants to kill you next. David, what do you mean? He hasn't done anything to Lucy yet, but... Oh, Jesus. David, please listen to me. Whatever issue you have with me, that's fine.

We can talk about it. I'm happy to listen. But please leave my family out of this. He won't let me. I can't even hang up the phone. I think he wants you to listen. To listen to what he's going to do. I'm sorry.

Jeremy, I'm so sorry. David, 25 minutes. Please don't hurt my daughter. I'm begging you. I'm going to patch this. turn to my car. King to me, Tafin, we can talk about this. Intelligence, beauty.

Engineered and manufactured in the USA, using a NASA-approved Mylar composite, WonderLim is the world's most advanced multi-grip bionic arm. With WonderLim, you are free to do all the things you were born to do. Drive a car, ride a bike,

type at a computer, pitch a baseball, even hold hands with a loved one. The only limit is your imagination. Wonderlim, reaching confidently towards a better tomorrow. A cast is presented by Creative Reason Media. The musical score was composed by Brandon Boone. Our production team is Phil Mikulski, Jeff Clement, and Jesse Cornett. Our creative content manager is Olivia White.

Our editor-in-chief is Jessica McAvoy. If you would like to find out how you can hear the extended editions of our program, Please visit the no sleeppodcast.com to learn more about our season past program. 25 episodes each over two hours long and three exclusive bonus episodes all for only $25. On behalf of everyone at the No Sleep Podcast, we thank you for joining us at The No Sleep Files. This audio program is copyright 2022 by Creative Reason Media Inc. All rights reserved. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors.

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