Episode 354: Listener Tales 48 | Morbid

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Hey, weirdos, I'm Ash. And I'm Elena. And this is Morbid.

🎵 It sure is. And it's one of those silly fun episodes.

It's a listener tale, meaning that it's brought to you by you, for you, from you, and all about you.

And you always bring it. Yeah, it's like bring it on.

It's bring it on. That's exactly it. Missy's the poo, so take a big whiff.

Oh, Liz Dusk. Did I fuck that? I think I might have like fucked that quote up.

Did you? No, I think you're good. Missy's the poo, so take it.

No, I think I did. I think I got it. Yeah, you got it.

Okay. Have faith in yourself. I shall. But that's Liz Dusk is in it.

Liz Dusk. If you don't know what we're talking about, go listen to Scream.

The Scream pod. Do it. All right. Well, we don't banter.

Well, we banter as fuck, but we don't talk about much in the beginning of Listener Tales.

We do banter. Because it's just fun. It's just fun.

But this Listener Tale, let's start this motherfucker off.

It's called I Missed the Boat. on the metamurderer episode oh no i know also you really dry you drew that right out yeah i think i went brain dead for a second i was worried for a second i was like are you okay the answer is a constant the boat the answer to are you okay ash is a constant nah But anyways, it's not about me.

This is about somebody that I don't know if I can use their name yet.

So let's see. Hello, you lovely weirdos.

Let me start off like everybody else by saying how much I love your podcast.

We love you. Thank you. I love you. I love your podcast.

Like so many others, I started listening a couple years ago during the plague, and I had the immediate feeling of OMG, it's my people.

Oh, I love that. We are your people. You're our people.

You're our people. You ladies actually have me excited for an hour-long commute every day.

Feel free to use my name. All right, Kourtney.

Also, Elena, when you lost Bailey, I full-on ugly cried in the car.

I lost my beautiful pit bull, Thumper, in October last year, and the pain of the loss of a furry family member is like no other.

I fully felt your love for Bailey in that moment, and I'm so, so sorry for your loss.

I attached some pics of Thumper to aww over and...

We are all in. I'm so sorry you lost Thumper.

Thumper is beautiful. He really is. Oh, he has like the kindest eyes.

Oh, and your kitty cat looks like my Lexi.

What a cutie patootie. Oh, I'm sorry. That's hard.

Okay, so I had started typing this listener tale.

And for a lot of reasons, I had been debating on sending it in for several weeks.

And then you had the met a murderer episode.

And holy shit, I was like, get out of my head, guys.

And we were like, no. And I was like, never.

Never. I so appreciate how you share all these listener tales from such a place of compassion and non-judgment.

Hell yeah. It has inspired me to share this story, even though it might not paint me in the best light.

It's not right. It's in the past. Shit happens, man.

As long as you didn't murder anybody, it's all good.

None of us are perfect. Not one among us.

Some people pretend that they are. And those people suck eggs.

Yeah, some people are like, I've never made a mistake in my whole life.

And those are always the people that have made 400 bajillion mistakes more than you.

So don't you worry. Oh, I was going to sing like, don't worry.

That's what I was going to say. Oh, I was like, what's happening over there?

Are you all right? No, actually, you know what I just realized?

I didn't finish my coffee today. Okay. And I've had like no caffeine.

We need to charge Ash's batteries. I'm drinking with one of those pineapple refreshers now from Starbucks.

So that should wake me up. But unfortunately, there's ice in it.

So I can't drink it while we're recording.

Should refresh you. Yeah, it should, but I can't drink it because I don't have a straw.

And you know what? I appreciate that because we were on a Zoom once with somebody who's drinking out of something.

Yeah, we were. You know exactly what I'm talking about.

They were drinking out of a cup with ice in it, and it was one of those like medley kind of cups, a tumbler.

Hold on, because they also weren't talking.

So like, it's fine. Whatever noise you want to make is fine.

On mute. Yeah, but they were literally... like all the ice was clanging against the side of the metal thing.

And then they'd take a big gulp and chew on the ice into the microphone.

And I was like, You have so much audacity.

I was like, holy shit. You own the entire audacity program.

You're also talking to two people like one more than the other with misophonia.

Oh, it was making me lose my damn mind. But so thank you for thinking about that.

Thank you. Oh, I was saying thank you to the listener.

I was like, yeah, thanks, Courtney, for not drinking my drink.

Thank you, Courtney. oh shit all right uh la la la i hope this yes i hope this can serve as a cautionary tale to somebody else who might be going through a stupid person phase oh god i have so many of those stories seriously even as i read this i found myself shaking my head and saying courtney you dumb bitch But we live and we learn if we're lucky.

So here we go. Courtney, I already love you.

I love you too. And I'll make you feel better.

Can I just tell my dumb, my dumb bitch story that I told you this morning?

Yeah. So my friend was over the other night.

Hi, Kaylee. And we were outside and having a fire and I saw a white squirrel go by and I was like, oh my God, it's a white squirrel.

And Drew and Kaylee just look at me and Kaylee goes, you dumb bitch.

That's a skunk. I was dying. So yeah. If you think it's a white squirrel, it's probably not.

Back to Courtney. I was 27 in 2011 when I was invited to a Mardi Gras-themed club party in Denver by some burner friends.

Fuck yeah. For those not in the know, a burner is one who attends Burning Man.

I am not exactly, nor was I then, one of these types of hippie party animals.

However, in my 20s, I was a work hard, play harder kind of person.

Relatable. Now, I'm much more of a work hard, Netflix hard kind of person.

Also relatable. Elena. Elena. That's who Elena's always been.

But at the time, I had friends in the community and they threw hella fun parties.

Do the kids say hella these days? I don't know.

You can. You can. I still say hella. I support it.

I like to think of myself as like a, like a almost kid, you know, like I'm not that far away from it and I say hella.

Yeah. You're the resident kid in this office, so.

Yeah, I'm the resident kid in this office for sure.

There you go. Anyway, fun-loving artsy folk and good vibes all around.

Two of these burners and I went way back to the high school days of slumber parties and sneaking underage vodka shots.

I had met most of the members of their immediate friend group at other events here and there.

This event was a good one. There was a different DJ on each floor, aerial dancers, fire jugglers, and light art, lighted art installations.

That sounds awesome. Fuck yeah. I would love to watch that from afar.

But we was like, I would watch that on TV, kind of like how I'm watching fucking Woodstock 99.

Didn't want to go, but I want to see it later.

I'll watch it later. Libations. I love the word libations.

That's a great word. Yeah, I got to use that more.

It just feels like classier. It does. I don't know what it is.

I'm going to invite you over for like a libation party.

A libation or two. Yeah. Libations were flowing freely and weed smoke that swirled with machine fog was illuminated by laser lights creating an intoxicating haze in the air as the music bumped.

God, I feel at home. Damn. We were all dancing and having a great night when a cute skeleton showed up and started chatting up people in our friend group.

Oh, no, I would have fell for this, too.

Whatever you're falling for, I would have fallen for.

Yeah. Did I mention that this was a costume party?

Seems to be an important detail now. Masks, face paint, the works.

But back to cute skeleton guy. He was a great dancer and giving the vibes of the singer in the band Hocus Pocus. okay girl you just got me i have not read this before i have said it from day one that guy's that the singer of that band has something he has something he has a je ne sais quoi he has a je ne sais quoi i can't put my finger on it but i've always thought he was hot and i don't know why he has a sexy voice the voice and even when he talks that's what i mean like i'm not even talking singing like he's a great singer courtney Yeah, you get it.

You get it. Courtney. We get it. And for those that don't, Courtney's talking about the skeleton singer of the band in Hocus Pocus before Winifred takes the stage to sing, I put a spell on you.

That one. Yeah. I was totally into it when he started dancing in my direction.

Oh. I love dancing. You know what? I want to dance right now.

I'm into this. I'm so into this. My friend from school told me that Skeleton's name was Travis.

Yeah, of course it is. And that he's super cool.

Yeah, he sounds like a Travis. He's super cool.

Travis's always are for a minute. Yeah. And newishly single.

Also, same. Wink wink. Wink wink. also same to like like that travis's are always single yeah that's what i meant i don't mean that i was single lord i was not saying that i am engodged did i ever mention that oh god also everyone there seemed to know him of course they did we ended up dancing together the rest of the evening and by the time the last call rolled around travis the skeleton offered me a ride home since i had been drinking and smoking pot all night Oh, poking smart all night.

Looking back, he was also most certainly drinking all night, but didn't seem overly intoxicated to my drunk ass.

So that seemed like a great idea. The friend group and my good friend that I'd known since high school were all very encouraging of this connection.

So, of course, I left with Travis. I don't recall too much of the ride.

I remember that it was after 2 a.m. and he drove a van.

Red flag. Oh, he told me about. Oh, wow.

Oh, do you know who she's talking about?

No. He told me about his organic granola company.

You remember that case? Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about.

I'm not going to give it away yet for anybody who might not have caught on yet, but we've covered this case.

This Travis granola man case. Whoa, Courtney.

Okay, let's go. Yep, yep, yep. I specifically recall him telling me about the evils of gluten.

Oh, God. Hippies. Hippies. We ended up going to his bakery.

I recall there were steel food prep tables and big barrels, I assume, for grains of sorts.

There was a couch in the back in an office area.

We ended up spending the night there together.

This was a completely consensual one-night stand.

Perhaps not my proudest moment, but hey, it happened.

What can I say? Don't feel bad about it.

We've all been there. At all. It's funny.

When I considered sharing this story, I went online to find Facebook posts from that evening.

I couldn't find any pics with Travis in them, but I looked cute as hell that night.

I thought you did. I'm sure you did. What did you dress up as?

I want to know. And then Courtney said, I mean, it doesn't hurt that I was 10 years younger, but I would have hooked up with me too.

I digress. Get it, girl. When Travis took me back to my car in the morning, he asked for my number and insisted that we should get dinner later that week.

I was about to be like, oh my God, so nice.

Wow. Wow. I gave him my number, but I was quite certain that I would not hear from him because, well, let's just call a spade a spade here.

My friend called me the next day and asked how my night with Travis Forbes went.

I'm screaming. I told her all about the granola, haha, and the hookup and that he likely wouldn't call me back.

Well, I was correct. My cute dancing skeleton from that night never did call me.

So now we get to the true crime of it all.

It was a month later when I would hear the name Travis Forbes again.

I'm like shaking right now. I cannot believe this.

I was doing stuff around the house and had the news playing in the background the days before podcast when they said it.

It was immediately familiar. Enough so that I stopped folding laundry to watch, but I couldn't place it at first.

I think the news anchor mentioned a granola company and it finally all clicked.

I recognized my skeleton, Sam's makeup, and an orange jumpsuit.

Yes, jumpsuits. He had skeleton makeup on when I hooked up with him.

Don't judge. He was still cute. You literally don't have to say don't judge because we totally get it, my dude.

We get it. We're over here. That skeleton and hocus pocus, like, I get it.

With the makeup on. Yeah. It's fine. Yeah.

Then they showed the mourning family and the face of the beautiful 19-year-old girl who Travis Forbes raped, murdered, and buried about 40 miles outside of Denver. yeah oh this case is so sad it is her name was kenya monge she was abs like she was beautiful oh she was breathtaking and she seemed like one of my friends like i feel like she just seemed like a friend that was in the friend group i remember this one perfectly you know She went missing on March 31st, 2011.

My Facebook pictures of that party were dated March 20th, 2011.

Wow. Less than two weeks apart. This charming fucker who knew everybody at that party and said that goddamn gluten was evil raped and murdered a girl 11 days after I hooked up with him.

Oh, my God. Fucking ew, David. At least I know why he never called me.

He was a murderer. Ugh. Ugh. So awful. After Kenya went missing, he was initially called for questioning because they had exchanged text messages about meeting up that night.

Travis told detectives some crap that he did see her that night, but he dropped her off at a gas station or something and she went off with somebody else.

Neither the detectives nor the family of Kenya Monge believed Travis's story about his interactions with her that night.

On top of that, there was some pretty damning surveillance footage outside the bakery that showed Travis roll a large white cooler into the freezer of the bakery and then carry a roll of carpet from his van.

He's so disgusting. He really is. Followed by footage of him carrying what looks like a bottle of bleach to his van.

It then shows him disconnect the cameras.

I remember this so perfectly now. And you get to that part and you're like, it's going to show you doing that, you idiot.

Yeah. Yes. Yes. One article said that her family could barely recognize her identity at first, except for the tattoo on her leg.

He then covered her body in bleach, set her apartment on fire, and left her for dead.

Lydia's a fucking hero, though, and she woke up enough to escape the fire by jumping out of her second-story apartment window.

She ended up suffering a stroke and was in a coma for five weeks.

I'll attach some news articles about her badassery.

It's totally worth the time to read her incredibly inspiring story.

It really is. Fast forward, Furbs eventually agreed to lead detectives to Kenya Monhae's body on the condition that he would not be charged as a sex offender.

I remember. Remember this. This made me so angry.

And it makes you so angry because you understand like why they have to give them these deals so that they can get them in prison.

But it's like so frustrating. Like he should have gone to prison, a sex offender.

Yeah. And he would not receive the death penalty.

That was another reason he wanted it. This was five months after her disappearance.

From what I've read, her exact cause of death could not be determined by autopsy due to the level of decomposition.

During the interrogation, when he finally confessed, Travis admitted to taking advantage of her when she was passed out, and he said...

She kind of came to and she realized that we had sex.

And then she started hitting me and I started hitting her back.

And then she started to scream and I strangled her.

I strangled her. I strangled her. I killed her.

He cut her clothes off and burned them in a barrel.

He bleached everything else that she touched.

He's now serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole.

And after all of this hitting the news, I talked to my friends and everyone in the burner community.

They were completely shocked. The Travis they all knew was a fun, nice guy.

He was smart, he was well-read, charismatic, and a good dancer.

The Travis that I met that night was, too.

Now, I'm sure everyone thinks this about themselves, but I consider myself to be a decent judge of character.

I've certainly been in circumstances where I got a bad feeling to nope the hell out and have done so.

I never felt unsafe that night. Not once.

Not a bad vibe or a gut feeling or anything.

Even when I left with Travis, all these people vouched for him and there were a whole bunch of witnesses who watched us leave together, which furthered my disillusion of safety.

I still like to go out and have a good time on occasion, but I've made some changes to my lifestyle after this.

I realize how lucky I am that my version of the story has a very boring ending.

That it is nothing more than a story of a foolish hookup with a stranger after a party.

When I watched Kenya's family on the news, I couldn't help but picture my family and what it would look like to have them on the news mourning their missing loved one, and it broke my heart.

Not only did I feel so stupid, I felt shame in my selfishness and my overall carelessness.

I always wondered if my foolish hookup is what saved my life.

If I would have said no to Travis that night, would I have been another rape and murder victim?

Maybe not. There are a lot of witnesses of our whereabouts after all.

I guess I'll never know the answer to that.

So that's my story. I'm no journalist, so I've attached some links to some of the articles that I read to fill in any gaps should you care to read them.

I sincerely apologize for the lackluster grammar and run on sentences.

Also, tenses are hard. Tenses are hard. I go in and out of them all the time.

Keep it weird, but not so weird that you hook up with a murderous skeleton just because he's cute and a good dancer and your friends say he's safe.

Much love to you all. Courtney. Courtney.

That is a wild story. I know. And you know what?

Like, back to the whole, like, judge of character thing.

I'm sure you are a good judge of character.

But the thing is... Like the substances can alter your judgment, you know?

So it wasn't that you're not a bad, that you're a bad judge of character.

It's just you were having fun that night.

Well, and on top of that, all your friends knew him.

Exactly. And vote for him. Like he was a good liar.

He was a good chameleon. Yep. Sometimes people like you, you really can't trust people.

No, you can't. You really can't, if you don't know someone, and even if you do know them, you can't always trust everybody.

It's like, and that's a hard lesson to learn.

And I think it's one that you continue learning through life.

So like, don't feel bad. Like you didn't do anything wrong.

You did something millions of people do every day.

And wow, I can't, I'm sorry that you went through that because that must have been like a very traumatic thing to actually deal with once you realized.

Yes. So I'm sorry that you had to deal with that.

And damn, what a story. I know. That's a lot.

I'm trying to, I should look up what episode we covered that on.

Yeah, we should. Hang on. Episode 220. That case was so, so, so sad.

And then Lydia Tillman at the end is like wild.

Yeah. It's a really sad story. But as soon as, when you said the granola and you said it again, I was like, wait a second.

I think that's what like everybody remembers.

Yeah. Like when you say it with Travis. Yeah, exactly.

Yeah. All right. Thank you, Courtney. Now on to the next one, which was sent to us by Amy.

She said we can use her name. Thank you, Amy.

Your email picture is adorable. It really is.

And it's titled, I was almost one of them.

Oh. Which is very ominous. Is that a new theme?

I feel like it is. All right. Let's see.

It says, let me go to the beginning of this.

It says, hi, ladies. Hi, ladies. First of all, I want to preface this by saying this may be long and I'm sorry.

No. And by telling you that the last month of my life, well, really the last six months, but definitely the last month has been almost unbearable.

Oh, no. On May 1st, I lost my dad after a long battle of dementia.

I'm so sorry. We really lost him years ago, but last November, we put him in hospice knowing there was nothing more we could do to help him.

He suffered a lot, and we suffered along with him.

Holding his hand and talking to him as he passed away was the hardest moment of my life, but knowing that he was no longer in pain or confusion was an actual comfort.

To anyone who has a loved one dealing with Alzheimer's or dementia, I see you.

You aren't alone. Oh, I'm so sorry. That's a nightmare.

I can't imagine having to go through that.

The next day after watching my dad pass, I had my first ultrasound appointment as I found out I was pregnant nine weeks prior.

Unfortunately, I found out that I was dealing with a missed miscarriage.

Oh, I'm so sorry. Unfortunately, or no, I won't go into the details of the physical and mental pain I endured over the next two weeks, but it was, again, almost unbearable.

Two weeks after that, I came down with COVID.

Luckily, it was pretty mild, but it just felt like another overwhelming thing.

Because it was. Oh, my God. I'm so sorry. i have dealt with miscarriages so i know how that feels and i'm really sorry you went through that and they say it comes in threes but like wow that's a trifecta that's it that's the trio all this is to say two things one i continue to listen to you ladies throughout and you provided me with much needed laughs and distractions oh good thank you so much for the entertainment you provide to all of us i hope you know just how much joy you bring to us listeners That's really nice.

I know. Sometimes we need to hear that. To hear that.

Two, the story I'm about to tell you just proves what a caring man my father was to me and my sisters as we grew up.

We meant absolutely everything to him. And after what happened to me, he was so passionate about keeping us safe.

Him and my mom completely uprooted their lives to give us a different sort of childhood.

Oh, wow. Oh, I love that you had amazing parents.

I know. Everybody should. So here we go.

My parents were born and raised in Chicago, Illinois.

Crazy tidbit, but their first house as a married couple was a block away from John Wayne Gacy during the actual time of his killings.

Oof. Oof. For real, oof. For real. My dad spent his entire career up until this point at the Chicago Tribune, starting as a copy boy and at this time working as a foreign editor.

What a badass. I have a subscription to the Chicago Tribune.

Me too. He was kind of a big deal in the world of print journalism.

That's badass. Hell yeah, go dad. My mom was a kick-ass pediatric nurse.

Hell yeah, go mom. This is a cool couple.

They both switched on and off working nights, so I definitely had plenty of time with each of them throughout the days.

Oh, that's awesome. That's so cool. My very favorite afternoons were when my dad would pick me up from preschool and we would go grab Happy Meals from McDonald's and bring them to the park.

Those were the best times. This particular night, my mom was working and my dad was home with us.

I was five years old and my sisters were nine and eleven.

We actually lived in a suburb of Chicago at this point, not the same place as the John Wayne Gacy shit, Shivers.

And though I don't remember much about it, I do remember feeling like it was a pretty nice and safe neighborhood.

Oh, I'm so scared. I have a feeling I'm going to get very stressed out about this.

I'm already stressed out because I read ahead.

I opened my eyes and there in front of me was a figure.

I could see his outline because the door in my room was now opened and the light in the hallway was glowing around him.

The figure was relatively large. As he got closer, I noticed he was wearing a stocking cap on his head and what I will never forget, a tool belt around his waist.

Oh my fucking God. I can't be sure that there was anything in the tool belt, but I knew it was there.

Luckily, I had the time and clarity to start screaming at the top of my lungs.

I must have spooked him because he immediately fled from my room.

My dad was able to get to my room relatively fast as I continued to scream.

When he reached me, I told him what I saw.

As most parents would probably do, he reassured me it was just a dream.

However, as he was doing this, he heard a loud banging coming from the main floor.

He ran to the sound and saw that our side door was broken into and was swinging open.

Oh my gosh. That's all it took for him to call the police.

I remember the police being in my room and me retelling them what had happened.

But that's really where my memory ends. But here's what I was told for the next week.

We had a police presence at our house outside all day and night to protect us.

My dad said at first they weren't sure how serious they should take the situation.

But with the broken door and the way I described the man to them, the police felt like it was a real event.

They said hearing those sort of specifics from a five-year-old was not normal if it was just a dream.

Also, I'd like to point out that this was the mid-80s, so, you know, prime kid abduction decade.

Yeah, what was with the 80s and abductions?

Yeah, what the fuck was up with that? It was like a real thing.

Yeah. Yeah. We never had another incident at our house, but within the next year, my dad decided he had had enough of Chicago.

He bought a newspaper company in a small town in Wisconsin.

Fuck yeah, he did. Yeah, he did. And our entire family moved hours north to this idyllic setting.

When I say small, I mean it. I always hear people reference small towns, but you really don't know small towns until you see one.

There were no stoplights, and I graduated with a class of 40 kids.

Oh, my God. Everybody knew absolutely everybody.

It sounds like we're Druze for real. Honestly, I think I forget about the incident as I grew up.

I never felt unsafe in our town, and it was a really nice place to grow up in that sense.

We were out all day from morning until night playing.

Walked to and from our friend's houses unsupervised.

However, I do remember forever teasing my dad about his safety protocols.

He constantly locked all our doors at all times.

Why would you ever need to do that in this town, we'd wonder.

And at night, as he'd write his newspaper stories on the computer in the basement, he'd block out the windows because I think he was scared of being watched.

Honestly, feel that. Yeah. In college, I found a shotgun in his closet.

I was absolutely shocked. My dad was one of the most gentle souls I'd ever come in contact with.

We lived in an area where hunting for animals was really prevalent, but he was a major animal lover and would never dream of doing that.

Up until then, I wasn't sure my dad had ever even held a gun.

When I found the gun, I brought it up to some good friends about how surprised I was.

One of them turned to me and said, why would you be surprised?

You were almost kidnapped as a child out of your own bedroom.

And it hit me. The honest friend. Yeah, like, what the fuck?

You were almost taken out of your bedroom.

They're like trauma bomb, remember? Like, boom.

And it hit me. I had completely forgotten about all that because of the way my parents decided to raise us.

Like, your parents literally made you forget about being almost abducted.

That's how wonderful they were. That's some parent shit right there.

That is some A-plus parent shit. Truly. I'm now the mother of a five-year-old, and I cannot imagine the trauma my dad endured after having that almost happen to his child.

I know. It didn't hit me until my friend reminded me of that, and then again when I had a daughter.

My poor dad was in the house when I was almost abducted, and it most likely affected him for the rest of his life.

Absolutely. I can only imagine. He was such a good, kind, and gentle man, and I'm so grateful for how he protected me throughout my life.

Oh, my God. I love your dad. I do, too. I'm so sorry that you lost your dad.

I am, too. Thank you so much for reading my story, and I'm sorry it isn't as humorous and witty as many of the listener tales are, which I love so much, but I'm still trying to crawl myself out of the hole I've been in.

I hope I can also be funny again soon. Until then, thank you for providing me with your hysterical banter, engaging listener tales, and interesting true crime stories.

Love you, ladies. Amy. You can go ahead and use my name.

I'll be so excited if you actually read it.

I'll want the notoriety. Amy, Amy, Amy. Hell yeah, Amy.

We love you, and we're so sorry for what you're going through right now.

And we're sending you a huge, giant hug.

And we're literally not even huggers, so that's a big deal.

That's a huge deal. We love you. We freaking love you, Amy.

All right. Next up, listener tales. I got possessed because I was too gay to say no.

Amazing. That's iconic. I'm ready for this.

Oh, my God. Already. Let's go. Hello, my beautiful ghoulish goddesses.

Love that. My name is Pfeiffer. Get the fuck out.

That's an... awesome that's a sick ass name and then they said yes like michelle yes and you may absolutely use my name yes okay what a fucking cool name holy shit firstly i need to tell you that i love your podcast i'm chronically ill and spent a lot of time just writhing around in pain on various beds so i don't really spend time with people outside of my roommates i'm so sorry to hear that Having a true crime podcast like yours and my ears has made even my worst days feel bearable.

And I cannot thank you enough for how much of a positive impact you've both made on not only my life, but many lives in the community as well.

Thank you. Thank you. Man, you guys are like really pumping us up today.

I know, seriously. I'm like, shit, let's record like 18 episodes today.

I'm getting all like, let's go. Fuzzy. Yeah, like shy.

Like I feel shy. I've never felt shy. What the fuck?

Your passion for the stories you tell, the compassion you hold for the victims, and the way you rip boneheads like UTK.

You mean shit flower? Hell yeah. To shreds is unmatched.

And I truly hope you never forget how incredible you both are.

Oh my God. Pfeiffer. Thank you. Fucking Pfeiffer.

I love that. That's your name. Pfeiffer. ah i'm getting a new cat and now i want to name it after you right fifer we like picked a name but i'm like fifer's a cool name i don't know man throw it into the hat i'm gonna ask drew yeah all right now on to my tail i've attached a double space put a full for you two to read because i know it's much easier you're a real one you are i'm gonna say your name as much as possible This is actually a story that I've sent in before, but I realized I left out some details, so I'm doing it again.

It's quite long as a writer. Excuse me, as I'm a writer in my spare time.

Oh, hell yeah. And I'm completely incapable of writing short things.

Same. Elena. But it is pretty spooky. I hope you enjoy, and if I ever get to hear this on the podcast, I'll probably shit several bricks.

Well, get ready to make a wall out of those bricks.

Ew. A shit brick wall. All right, again, guys, this is called That Time I Got Possessed While Trespassing Because I Was Too Gay to Say No.

All right, so strap in, babies. This one's kind of long, and it's a total doozy.

But it's one of my favorite stories to tell anyone who will listen.

So without further ado, here we go. I love that you love to tell this to anyone who listens, and a lot of people are going to hear this right now.

Yeah, a lot of people are going to listen.

This is exciting. So for some background, when this whole thing went down, I was 15 years old and a complete bisexual disaster who would do anything for a pretty girl.

That's literally any 15 year old bisexual.

Like you would do anything for a girl or a boy.

The girl I was interested in at the time, we'll call her Emma, was in the grade above me, and she fancied herself to be an amateur photographer, which worked because I was into film and cinematography, so we had a lot to talk about.

Her style of photography was about the disarray of humanity in architecture.

Oh. And you're 15 and 16. Okay, badassery.

She loved to find beauty in art and decrepit places.

Oh, cool. I know, that is cool. So she would often break into abandoned buildings to snap her photos.

She was driven by disorder and appreciated the rawness that she could observe while walking through the empty halls of places with thousands of stories tucked inside every crack in the structure.

Yeah, you are a writer, Pfeiffer. Yeah, that's, I felt that.

This is already great. I'm looking at it.

Emma wanted to use her photography to fill in the blanks for those stories.

She was also just, excuse me, she also just really loved.

She also just really fucking loved breaking into places.

Because I was overruled by hormones and gay panic, but also love for the thrill of committing petty crimes.

Don't at me. I went along. Don't at me. I get it.

I'll at you. At me if you at you. On these little break and enter, take some photos and hope to God the cops don't show updates.

We would always go at sunset or late at night.

Once our curiosity and memory, oh yeah, and memory card were satisfied, we would ghost hunt because we were a couple of dumb bitch teenagers.

Hell yeah. I love the theory, the theme of dumb bitch.

I know, I love it. I've always been sensitive to the paranormal.

My sister and I are both clairvoyant in different ways.

You have to be clairvoyant if your name is Pfeiffer.

Pfeiffer, I knew you were clairvoyant. Me too.

I think you sent it this way and like made me clairvoyant to know that.

Whoa. I believe in you, Pfeiffer. It was like a clairvoyant inception.

There you go. Is that what that is? Sure.

Question mark. Bye. So spirits don't always leave me be.

So I was hoping to make some sort of contact here.

And oh boy, did I fucking ever. Emma's choice of haunt this night was an old factory in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

In our Midwestern state. This place had been up since the early 1900s and was later abandoned for horrible working conditions that resulted in several deaths.

The most compelling death of all was that of the CEO, or whatever the 1900s version of a CEO was, who was reportedly involved with the Irish mob.

Oh. Potatoes. I'm Irish, I can say that.

The story goes... did something to piss him off and one day a member of the mob went to his office at the factory and killed him there are varying accounts on how he was killed some say he was shot some say he was thrown into a machine of his own factory some say he wasn't even killed at all and that his death was accidental but either way homeboy was dead i was gonna say death occurred somehow dead dead dead I will try to paint a visual picture for you guys, because the layout is important.

Well, Pfeiffer, you're already good at that, so I'm ready.

Yeah, I'm ready. It was a fairly small factory, square footage-wise, but it was quite a tall building.

There were a set of metal doors on the outside, which led to a little lobby area.

This part of the building was two stories, however.

There was no floor-slash-ceiling separating the two floors, so if you looked up from the lobby, you could see a few admin offices from behind the reeling.

Towards the back, there was a set of metal double doors that led to a short hallway, followed by another set of double doors that led into the factory.

Below the factory, there was also a basement-type thing for storage or God knows what.

This is all important, I promise. I believe you.

This is how my brain works. I'm seeing the setup of where Steve Martin works in Father of the Bride.

Anybody else? Yeah. All right. Yeah. I get that.

Like how it's like the two floors. Yeah.

Okay. I get it. Hell yeah. I'm with you.

That's a great movie. Fucking love that movie.

Both of them. So Emma picked the pathetic rusted padlock on the door and we went in.

There you go. We snapped some photos of the lobby area.

Then we went back up to the offices. Oh my god.

On film. Stop. Give me it now. Unfortunately.

No. Emma and I no longer speak. Therefore, I no longer have the footage.

But I'll do my very best to describe the series of events to the best of my abilities.

Emma, are you out there? Give me the footage.

Here's the thing. If you are both still bisexual, I feel like you could reconnect.

Yeah. You know what I mean? Like lesbians are always friends with their friends.

There you go. I can say that. About an hour into our investigation, Emma and I were up on the second floor in what we believe was the CEO's office. where he was killed.

And we heard a noise from downstairs. Of course, our first reaction was, it's a ghost!

No, it wasn't. It wasn't. Oh, God damn it.

I was just so excited to yell. I go, what?

You're like, what? They were like, you're dumb.

You dumb bitch. You dumb bitch. Of course, our first reaction was not, it's a ghost.

I can still yell. There you go. It was, oh shit, it's the cops.

I was going to say, that's what I would think first.

Yeah, yeah. Because we were totally trespassing on top of having literally broken into this building.

Yeah. We ducked down and waited with bated breath for several excruciatingly long seconds to see if any booming voices were going to tell us to come out with our hands up.

But there wasn't a sound. Emma, obviously the brave bitch here, decided to go downstairs and check it out while I stayed put and stressed myself out.

There you go. While I waited for Emma to return, I tried to look out the window to see if there were any cop cars or anything outside.

But there was a tree from the... Mesozoic.

Yeah, that era right outside. That was intimidating.

I saw you get to that. I saw that face change.

I don't want to read that. Mesozoic. Because, you know, I'm like really scarred from Nin.

I'm like, if I don't know what that is, I'm not saying it.

I'm not going to try it. The Mesozoic era.

Yes. Plus, the window was busted and dirty, and so what I could see was precisely jack shit.

But I had a camera with night vision, so I was zooming in, zooming out, trying to see anything.

You holding on to your butts? Because this shit is about to get real.

While filming, I heard a sort of scuffling noise from behind me, and thinking it was Emma, I turned around to face her, and I woke up somewhere else.

What? You woke... I missed the part where you were sleeping.

I was like, when did you sleep? What? When did you close your eyes?

Pfeiffer, wake up. Pfeiffer, what's up? I don't like this.

Pfeiffer, wake up. Oh, that was good. Okay.

You wake up. I hit that high note. It was like I came up and down.

It was so hot right now. So hot right now.

All right. Why? You didn't fall asleep. I opened my eyes and all I could see was blackness.

I did the thing where you blink repeatedly because you think you've spontaneously gone blind.

We've all been there. And proceeded to start screaming like a banshee in childbirth.

Whoa. Oh, I like that. Never heard that one before.

I spun around and in my panic, I made out the silhouettes of machinery and wires and shit.

Not blind then. And I just started running.

I was in near complete darkness, just sprinting blindly to fuck knows where.

But eventually found the metal staircase that led me out of the basement through the factory where I ran into Emma.

What? Emma started screaming at me. Where the fuck have you been?

I've been looking for you everywhere. I promptly grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the exit.

We gotta go. We gotta go right the fuck now.

Oh, damn. If I was Emma, I'd be like, okay.

I'd be like, let's go. Let's go. I'd be like, I will yeet us out of here.

So we grabbed our shit and we left. On the way home, Emma started asking questions, but I needed to get as far as possible from this place before I was able to tell her what had happened.

When we got back to her house, we smoked some of the married iguanas.

I've never heard that either. Married iguanas.

I love that. Have you heard that? No. Me either.

That's amazing. That's awesome. Some of the married iguanas.

Married iguanas. And when I finally felt calm and stoned enough, I told her what I experienced in the factory.

Obviously, she freaked out, so we decided to watch my camera footage.

We skipped ahead to the moment I was alone in the office, and this is what we saw.

My night vision was on, so I was filming the window, zooming in, zooming out like an asshole.

Strangely, whatever noise I heard that made me turn around was not captured on the camera's audio.

The camera was pretty shit, so it's not surprising.

Then I flipped around and was filming the doorway.

There was nothing there. Horrifyingly, this is the moment that I blacked out, but what we saw on the footage still gives me chills to this day.

The camcorder was attached to my hand by the hand strap and wrist strap.

My hand that was holding the camera drops down to my side.

Oh, I'm like so freaked out right now. It's giving me Blair Witch vibes.

So I'm now filming behind me and everything on the screen was upside down, which already is even scarier.

What's going to happen? I need to know. Then I just started walking.

I left the offices, went downstairs, somehow without alerting Emma, went through both sets of double doors into the factory area, descended the metal staircase to the basement and parked my definitely not conscious ass in front of a wall where I stood for a very, very long time.

That's like, like you said, Blair Witch.

Yes, exactly. Oh my God. I hate it. It scares me so badly.

Now, up until this point, Emma and I had not yet gone into the factory.

I had no idea the layout of this place. So how the fuckity fuck I did go down there on my own without knowing how, I cannot explain it any other way than that something was definitely taking over my body.

What the fuck? The scariest part is that from the time I blacked out in the office to the time that I woke up in the basement, 22 and a half minutes had passed.

So you're just staring? Just sitting there?

For 15 minutes, for 15 of those minutes, I was standing in front of a fucking wall, just Blair Witching it in the corner.

I knew you were going to come out with that, Fife.

All right, you get it, Fifer. Utterly silent.

So I just nicknamed you. The Fifester. We have nicknames for you now.

The Fifester. I love that. You're officially the Fifester.

Hope you like it. I do not remember this.

When I think I, I'm like, I can't even read.

It's so much. When I think back on the incident, even now, that 22 minute period did not exist.

It's suspended in black in my memory. And it was like I blinked and was suddenly in a completely different place.

Wow. Wow. The Feister said that, but honestly, I agree.

I am restless and confused pretty much all the time.

Elena can confirm. Can confirm. Will confirm.

The Feister and Ash, restless and confused.

Forget dazed and confused. We're just restless.

Anyway, naturally, we tried our best to rationalize my experience.

What we believe is that whomever or whatever possessed me was the spirit of someone, possibly even Mr. CEO himself, who died in the factory and was potentially never recovered.

But we'll never know. Emma once asked me if I wanted to go back, and I immediately told her that I would rather slam my tongue in a car door and lock myself in an Iron Maiden than return to that fucking place.

Wow, Feifster. Damn. Since then, the factory has been demolished and I have searched for hours on any sort of public record for the same reason why, but I can't find anything on it.

For the reason why, I don't know why I have it the same in there.

I will never know what happened there. I will never know what happened to me.

And it has been a sense of frustration for almost 10 years.

Fuck, I'm old. Either way, that's my story.

I'm so sorry for the length, don't be. But I hope this was at least entertaining.

It was at most entertaining. It really was.

Keep it weird, but not so weird that. Take it away, Ash. but not so weird that you go into a factory with the girl that you think is super cute and then you end up in the fucking basement away from that girl and you don't even spend any time with her and then you maybe got possessed and like the brother witch might have been hanging out with you at least you still have your eyeballs in your tongue though because you were like fully ready to stick that tongue in a car door and like you yeah i don't know you should be thankful for it that the boy rich didn't get it love you bye wow that was a good one right thank you you did and you know what fife stir the fife stir the fife stir you're it you are you're it you're all of it you're the ultimate It's automatic.

I'm sure of it. No lie. So don't even try.

To tell me that you're not the guy. Fivester.

Oh, the Fivester. I'm sorry. I was singing the real lyrics.

Oh, I know. I saw this TikTok the other day that was like, what is a song from a movie that like you consider a real song, even though it's not a real song?

And it was the one that they play like round and round.

Oh, yeah. That's a real song by a different band.

Yeah, that makes sense. Crazy. Crazy. I thought I was going to blow your mind.

You know what, the Fifester, what do you think?

Did you also think that? Did I blow your mind, Fifester?

The Fifester? The Fifester, you blew our mind.

Yeah, for real. That was amazing. For real, guys.

Dang. All of you are just wilding. All right, let's move on, I suppose.

Okie dokie, artichokie. So this one says...

Listener tale. The afternoon my five-year-old self spent at the beach with one of the 24 faces of Billy Milligan after one of his personalities committed serial rape and before he became an alleged murderer.

Oh, just that? That's a title. Okie dokie.

That is a title. Okie dokie, Sarah. Wow.

Okay. Hey, weirdos. My name is Sarah and you can use my basic white mom name because my daughters regularly inform me that I am indeed a basic white mom.

I'm going to be so pissed when my kids start saying that shit to me.

I'm going to be like, you don't even know.

Hey, I'm fine with that. I grew up wanting to fit in and be basic.

So I guess I can say I achieved my dream.

First off, I will say that I fell in love with your podcast during some of the darkest days of the pandemic.

I have always been intrigued by true crime and especially anything spooky or weird.

I was delighted to find the two of you and your weirdness helped me cope with the challenges of daily life.

Quarantined with two teenage daughters. I look forward to each new podcast with all the excitement of a basic white mom.

I love you. For your reading pleasure, I have attached two PDFs.

One is my listener tale and another includes a solid start on research in case you decide to choose to do an episode on Billy Milligan.

Are you fucking kidding me, Sarah? You're like way more than basic.

You're fucking iconic. Let's get you on the page. roll.

Let's go. I mean, nobody's ever sent two put-a-fus.

I just want to put that out there. His story is crazy and weird and disturbing, and I know that only the two of you can tell it in all its potential glory.

I definitely feel already that it's an Elena thing.

Yep. Thank you for adding light and intrigue and humor to my life.

I appreciate you weirdos. Always keeping it weird, even if I'm a basic white mom.

Sarah. I bet you're an iconic white mom.

You are. Alright, let's read this. So my listener tale is somewhat unremarkable in the telling of it.

But once I add the who and the when, it starts to become interesting.

Hang in tight with me for a second. Okay.

I'm here. This last fall, I was scrolling through Netflix looking for something new and exciting to watch.

The usual true crime, serial killer, unsolved mysteries type shows just didn't catch my interest.

Then I noticed a new offering. Monsters Inside.

The 24 Faces of Billy Milligan. Billy Milligan.

The name caused me to pause. And then subsequently call my father to inquire about a fuzzy memory that was hovering on the edge of my mind.

Sure enough, my memory was accurate. I spent a lovely, albeit likely somewhat awkward, afternoon at the beach with one of the 24 personalities of Billy Milligan.

I would have been about five years old. What?

How did this afternoon at the beach with a serial rapist and a future alleged murderer come about?

I was wondering that. We all were. All because of my compassionate hippie father.

Go hippies. And look, there's a picture of your family and you're so cute.

You are freaking adorable. Oh my God, and your parents are adorable.

I'm dying. I was born a flower child in the truest sense.

My early years were spent living on the side of a West Virginia mountain with no electricity or running water, but lots of love and friends and music all the time.

This isn't completely relative to the story, but still, where else can I brag about my mad accomplishment of being potty trained using an outhouse?

My family in 1976. Fucking awesome. You're not basic at all.

You are a cutie patootie. I know. Look at those cheekies.

And your dad is holding both you and your mom.

Oh, wow. I just realized that. Strong man.

That's strong man. Oh, my God. You are so cute.

When I was about, what's crazy is you kind of look a little bit like Ash when Ash was little.

You know, I almost said that, but I do talk about myself a lot in a kind of narcissistic way.

So I wasn't going to bring myself. No, you do.

You were both really cute. When I was about four years old, I moved with my hippie music playing parents to the hills of Athens, Ohio, so I could attend better quality schools.

This is also when my father went to work as a psychiatric nurse at Athens Mental Health Center, where Billy Milligan became one of his patients in 1976, 1978.

This place looks sick. I mean, obviously it wasn't, but like, whoa.

I don't want to tell Billy Milligan's story, but I will share what my father told me about his experience with Billy and why we spent an afternoon at the beach.

Billy had been tried for raping three women at Ohio State University, but was the first person to successfully use multiple personality disorder as an insanity defense and as a result was transferred to a mental health facility rather than prison.

Hmm. At the Athens Mental Health Center, where my father worked, Billy was able to walk the hospital grounds and visit the town unsupervised.

Ooh, that sounds like a bad plan. My father remembers this being a point of contention with the hospital staff in the community.

I wonder why. Some believed in his personalities and felt compassion for the horrific childhood experiences that may have led to Billy's psychosis.

Others were skeptical and questioned whether he was putting on an act to fool everyone, including his doctors.

Well, and either way, like, you can definitely feel bad, like we say, for the child, but you don't have to send a rapist into town.

Yeah, you don't have to do that. My father saw him as a broken and abused young man and took him into the community on multiple occasions.

And I oop. whoopsie i had to stop the recording because i was laughing so hard no i'm sure your dad is just like a very compassionate man exactly like this is by no means against your dad and honestly if it was me i probably would have done the same fucking thing it definitely would but also your dad was a psychiatric nurse so i'm gonna trust his judgment exactly but that was just like a really funny yeah that was like my whole foot just inserted in That was proof positive that we have not read these before.

It was also a great use of anti-oop if I do say so myself.

That's actually the definition of anti-oop.

Are the kids still saying that? I'm literally crying.

Just remember who doesn't think you're basic, okay?

Remember, you are not basic. Your father is a very compassionate person, I'm sure.

I'm going to drink my ice drink at this point.

One afternoon, my father brought him to the beach with my mother and I to enjoy swimming and sunbathing.

Also, he's supervised here. That's the thing.

We were talking about letting him just wander into the community without anybody.

Your dad is a psychiatric nurse. And he's bringing him to the beach for a little swim.

That's fine. We were all right here. Everything is fine.

Yeah. So I remember sitting in a blanket at the beach next to Billy and a less comfortable memory of him and my father tossing me through the air to each other in the deeper water.

Wow. Okay. You were heated by this, man.

Here is a picture of the beach at Stroud's.

How would you, Stroud's? Stroud's, yeah.

At Stroud's Run State Park today. Beautiful.

Oh, that is really pretty. Needless to say, I eagerly watched every episode of the Netflix Monsters Inside series about Billy.

Other than Billy's core personality, Billy himself, my father believes he only witnessed one other personality of the remaining 23.

This was his most violent personality named Reagan.

Because of the exorcist? Probably. According to my father, Reagan emerged in one instance when a staff member was intentionally provoking Billy and he became enraged.

Watching the Netflix series, I was shocked to learn about the possible murders that Billy may have committed after his time in Athens, Ohio.

Did I spend my afternoon bringing light to a troubled, abused soul?

Or was I subjected to time with a sociopath who manipulated my gentle father just to have a fun day at the beach?

I don't know. Could be either, to be honest.

I can't tell you. I need to know more. So my question today, was Billy controlled by his multiple personalities or was he a master manipulator and a, quote, brilliant narcissistic sociopath?

I'm hoping you, Ash and Elena, can help me answer this.

Ooh, that's a big one. Big job, Sarah. Oh, I'm going to read this case.

Yeah, we're going to add that to the whiteboard.

For sure. We've got time in November. There you go.

So we're going to take a peek at it. And wow.

To be able to look back and say that. Seriously.

Like that's really wild. That's cray cray.

But I think that's the thing. Those kind of situations.

Like the multiple personality thing is they can manipulate so easily.

It can be created so easily. Yeah. You know what I mean?

But it's also with it. I was actually thinking of Split this entire time.

Of course you were. Yeah. great fucking movie i saw that in theaters and it shocked me to my core it's so stressful opinion though or maybe not unpopular i don't even fucking know i don't like the end i don't either cool and i don't even remember what the end was but i remember not liking it i mean i can say it because it was like came out like five years ago um it turns it turns into that like whole superhero thing and he like oh because it's stopped i know so i know what it is is it marvel No, no, no.

It's a prequel, I think, to Unbreakable.

Yes. Which is like a serial killer. Like a superhero.

A superhero kind of thing. Yeah. I didn't like it.

I get why it happened. I just, I don't know if I'm a fan of that whole thing. yeah and it wasn't really like mark marketed as a prequel like i was like i thought it was just a movie about like i thought it was just a scary movie you know i thought it was scary but yeah it was that that was m night wasn't it yeah yeah so you know you know should have expected a twist our dude m night m night you know like the fifester we're all friends here let's go Thanks, Sarah.

I'm going to go ahead and take my foot out of my mouth and introduce the next one.

That was a wild tale. Sarah, your fam is just the cutest thing I've ever seen.

No, like genuinely. And not just because he looked like me as a baby.

All right. This one is called Why I Always Win Two Truths and a Lie.

A listener tale. Hello, ladies. Here's my listener tale for hopefully one of your podcast shows.

Feel free to read it or read it all or part of it.

I made sure to make it a put a foot double spaced in size 14 font for your reading ease.

An icon. Like that's hot. It is. This part is not for the show.

Bye. Okay, we're going to move on. There you go.

Greetings from the great white north, a.k.a.

Canada. Or to be more specific, an itty-bitty town called Port McNicol.

Nickle. Port McNicol. There you go. About two hours of Toronto north.

Just two hours of Toronto. It's like way from two hours.

My name is Danielle. Feel free to say it so I can brag to all my friends.

Danielle. Danielle. Danielle, my belle. We love a Canadian.

Oh, fuck. We might join you soon. I found your podcast while scrolling through the true crime section a couple of years ago.

I saw the word morbid and my brain immediately took control of my hand and forced my finger to click on it because anyone who named a true crime podcast morbid was worth listening to.

Hell yeah. Yanks. Then I got hooked on you wonderful ladies.

Also, hello to Drew, John, and the Littles.

Thank you. They say hi back. They said, hey.

I wanted to write in for a Listener Tales episode for ages, but I'm going to be honest and say my overthinking every fucking little... Hold on.

And say my overthinking every fucking thing until all the fun is gone, brain.

What a disappointment. Decide what tale to tell you.

I relate to that so hard. I mean, local ghost stories about drunken sailors playing soccer with the head of their decapitated friend.

Yeah, that one. Working in a store that was haunted by a curious dog.

That one. And hearing a very long ass scream while staying in a haunted hostel in Ireland are just a few of my options.

We'd like all of those, please. I pick D, all of the above.

Danielle, please. Please. I decided to ignore those for now.

How dare you? Although there will be a footnote about the soccer game because it's a Halloween thing, and I know you ladies are all about spooky season, so feel free to cut that part if you want.

No way. I don't. I'd apologize about this being long and for the F-bombs, but I'm really not sorry.

And we would never want you to be. I love you.

My tale is about how I always win True Truths and a Lie.

Yeah. The group with the highest sales at the end of the competition won a small commission.

Got it? Got it. This shit isn't complicated, and I'd be concerned if you were lost already.

I love you already. You're funny. On the day my tale starts, the phone rings.

Scary, right? Yes. Terrifying. Two scariest things in the world, your phone ringing and somebody knocking on your door.

Yep. The voice on the other end was pleasant, very soft, and a little high-pitched.

The band placed an order for some small thing.

I can't remember what it was, but it doesn't make a difference in the story.

He was chatty in that only mildly annoying way that nice customers tend to be.

Then came the first kind of creepy thing.

He was calling from the mental health facility one town over in...

Thank you for the pronunciation key, but even that is fucking intimidating.

Penetanguishene. Yeah. I did my best. It sounded good to me.

It was a massive complex and still is that houses everything from community outreach to the criminally insane.

Fun fact, it actually sits on spit land named- On a spit of land.

Yeah. It sits on spit land. I was like, what's that?

What's spit land? I'm going to be honest.

I think I need new contacts because I'm like actually squinting at the screen.

I'm going to blame it on that. Even though I've been doing it for four years.

Yeah, it's fine. Fun fact, it actually sits on a spit of land named Asylum Point.

It was common for the inmates whose families would supply them with an allowance to call and order things from local businesses.

A driver would then go from the store to store every Thursday and pick up all the orders.

That's nice. I know, that is nice. Whoa.

Whoa. Whoa. I felt that. It was petty, but I'm sure I'm not the only one who's wanted to defeat someone they didn't like.

Are you a Capricorn? A Capricorn, a Gemini, a Scorpio, or... Yeah, I think that's probably it.

Or an Aries. Over the next few weeks, he called back about half a dozen times.

Each order was bigger than the last. During our last phone call, he asked me for my full name.

I only ever gave my first to customers as a rule.

And address, so he could send me a tip. That's a no.

A fucking Klaxon... Klaxon horn? Klaxon horn went off in my head and a silver robot waved his arms around screaming, danger.

Lost in space reference. Sorry, I speak in movie and TV references and song lyrics sometimes.

I love that. So do we. I told him to send it to the store and that my boss would make sure that it got to me.

Little did I know that one of my helpful coworkers had already supplied my business card to the driver.

So he got my full fucking name anyway. Gotta love coworkers.

Yeah, gotta love them. I love my coworker.

I love mine. I'm just kidding. Not about loving you.

Anyways, I don't know. My foot's still in my mouth.

It is. At this point, he got even chattier and told me he was being transferred to a medium security facility for prolonged treatment for something.

Probably wouldn't call me again and was very grateful for all of my help.

I was in customer service, so I did the song and dance we all do for the customers.

Hope things go well. Too bad you're going so far away.

Blah, blah, fucking blah. Retail, am I right?

You know, I've never worked a retail job.

I know, that's wild. I know, but I was a waitress, so I fucking made up for it.

That's true. That Thursday, the driver showed up with an envelope with my name on it.

Inside was a $10 bill. Score. Okay. Wondering how this is scary.

Be patient. It's coming. A coworker saw my pretty $10 bill and asked me about it.

I explained that a patient had sent it to me.

Was I not lucky? I told her, I told her his name and she asked who it was.

This was the day I found out that the color drained from their face wasn't a literary exaggeration.

The look on her face actually made me scared of some unknown thing, like the time another co-worker had started screaming as she ran from the room.

You bet your ass I was right behind her screaming all the way.

That time it was a bat. Not scary, I guess, but she was a bit phobic.

Like, I just ran. Really? How many of us don't run screaming from the room when a bat dive bombs our heads?

All of us do. We, like, literally just had that experience, and I thought that it was a bat that flew into the home.

It was a bird. It was a bird. It was a tiny little bird.

But it was dark in color. It was dark in color.

And it flew right past me and one of the kids in the bathroom as I was doing their hair.

Thank God I wasn't cutting their hair. That's all I have to say.

Anyway, she said two tiny fucking words that changed everything. google him oh oh no okay there was no way i was not going to look him up i also wasn't going to wait until i got home this was before we had computers in our pockets yes i am that old i feel that and broke the no personal internet use uh use at work rule and typed his name in russell johnson up popped Up popped page after page of hits, all saying the same thing.

The bedroom strangler. Eleven known assaults.

Seven known rapes and murders. Holy shit.

I had been sharing friendly chats with a fucking serial killer.

Then it hit me. He knew my name and where I worked.

Oh, no. The serial killer whose M.O. was to follow female victims home from work, bus stops, or stores knew where I was.

Oh, no, no, no. That $10 got dropped in the first donation bin I found because it was just too creepy to keep it.

You might be wondering how my coworker knew his name.

Well, it turns out one of his last victims was supposed to be her mother, but he got the floor wrong while pulling an evil fucking Spider-Man up the outside of the building and killed her upstairs neighbor instead.

Oh my God. Yep. This pond scum monster in human form had literally scaled the outside of a multi-story building, or excuse me, scaled the outside of multi-story buildings to get his victims after following them home.

Are you fucking kidding me? I am horrified.

You think you're safe on the fourth floor?

Think again. Where there's an evil will, there's an evil way.

Obviously, I'm still alive, so this story had a happy ending for me.

I got out of that job shortly after this happened and moved on to better and serial killer free things.

His story didn't go so well. He lived up to his evil status and was soon removed from the medium security institution and returned to high security lockdown.

To this day, he remains there, chemically castrated and safely locked away from society.

Damn. And that, boys and girls, is how I always win at Two Truths and a Lie.

I've had actual conversations with and got tipped by a serial killer.

It still creeps me out to this day that I cannot sleep with any window in my home open.

Good. I don't even care how hot and humid it gets.

And Canada and a heat wave can be deadly.

It's the humidity that gets you. Oh, I feel that, especially this week.

Oh my goodness, for real. Oh, and my team totally won the competition, which made up for the tip that I couldn't bear to keep.

Hell yeah. All right. So if you want me to stop here, I can.

I won't hold it against you. Okay. To lighten the mood, here's a cute picture of my cat, Leonard Nimoy.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Nimoy. So cute. Yeah, Nimoy.

I figured I said it wrong. As promised, more on the soccer game mentioned earlier.

If you're ever in my neck of the woods around Halloween and want a good scare mixed with a healthy dose of real ghost stories, try Pumpkinferno at Discovery Harbor.

I'm there. Pumpkinferno? I am there. You had me at pumpkin.

It is a restored military and naval base from the 1800s and is just below Asylum Point, which adds to the creepiness.

Although visiting the place the rest of the year, you can still get a little spooky.

They go all out for Halloween. The story of the soccer match has been told for decades.

It's about a group of sailors who got in an argument after a night of drinking and murdered their friend.

They decided there was only one thing to do in the middle of the night when you're drunk with a decapitated corpse.

They decided to play a game of bloody soccer.

And before you ask, yes, the workers have been... Wait, what?

Sorry. They have been known to recreate.

Have been known to recreate the game minus the murder.

Oh my gosh. Jesus. I need to see this. Thank you for the amazing podcast, Danielle.

Thank you for the... two amazing stories wow holy cannoli wowzers danielle oh my goodness that was intense all these people that have had some kind of contact with a serial killer is wild i know i feel like we need to do like so many more installments we really did a murderer or like wasn't like had had a involvement with truly so cray cray Oh, man.

Okay. So this is the last one. And I think it's a good one.

Okay. I'm going to say burlap clad hunchbacks in the Bridgewater Triangle want to rub sand in your eyes.

I've heard that. I've heard that before.

Let's do this. I have never heard that before.

I'm ready. All right. Hey, Elena and Ash.

First off, I love the podcast to a degree that some might find unhealthy.

But hey, screw them. Screw them. I just can't get enough true crime and spookiness in my life, I guess.

This is actually the second story I've sent because I've had a few notably weird experiences in my 36 years.

And I guess I want to fill your mailbox with spooky spam.

Please do. That's not even spam. It's welcome.

I'm a fellow mass hole hailing from Swampskit and love to, and love to hear that distinct accent and special brand of banter.

I miss so much now that I, that I miss so much now that I live in Los Angeles.

Wait, is Swampskit a place or is that like a play on words?

No, that's a place. I've never heard of that.

Yeah. You call yourself a mass hole. I know, right?

My name is also Ashley. I don't go by a nickname unless you're my grandpa.

And for some reason you thought Ashcan was a cool thing to call your firstborn grandbaby.

Yeah. Why do people call us that? I also hate when people assume that you either do go by a nickname or you don't go by a nickname.

Like if you say like, hi, I'm Ashley. And they're like, hi, Ash.

You're like, I didn't say that. Yeah. But sometimes I say, hi, I'm Ash.

And people are like, hi, Ashley. And I'm like, I didn't say that.

You're like, I didn't introduce myself as that.

Right. Feel free to use my name if you read this in an episode and I'll change the names of the others involved because frankly, I don't speak to them anymore.

Iconic. Now to the story. Fuck them, right?

Yeah. This encounter happened during my last year of art school amidst the hellish time of working on my senior thesis in animation.

I was super overwhelmed, drawing my ass off day and night and even experienced the first panic attack I'd ever had.

So, of course, when my boyfriend asked if I could help with his project, I obviously said yes, because sure, I have tons of free time to spare my dude.

To put my workload in perspective, I spent that entire year on two minutes of hand-drawn animation.

Sorry for all the capitals and such, but I type the way I talk, which is very punctuated and East Coast-y.

I feel that. My boyfriend at the time was mildly obsessed with the paranormal, especially the East Coast variety.

For his project, he had reached out to a local ghost hunter slash spooky expert. who hosted a radio show on the South Shore.

Oh, shit. We were going to tape some interviews with Tom, the host, and be guests on his radio show and spend the whole day with the paranormal expert.

You know, like you do. The station was located in a town on the South Shore, smack dab in, you guessed it, the motherfucking Bridgewater Triangle.

South Shore. So blah, blah, blah. Fast forward.

We did the interviews, radio show. Yes, I was shit my pants nervous on the air and we packed up all our gear for the day.

It was well past dark when we were done and we were so ready to go home and have a beer.

Turns out spending the day with a paranormal expert is super draining and I didn't have many fucks left to give anyway.

We packed up the car and got to driving.

My boyfriend Chris was driving. I was in the passenger seat and our friend Mike and Eric, Chris's brother, were seated in the back.

I know you ladies know what it's like driving around the heavily wooded areas in that part of the state.

You sometimes don't pass another car for miles on end.

There are no streetlights and you're surrounded by thick black forest on either side of the road.

Oh, yeah. None of us were really talking much and we were all a little pooped.

The road we were on was a narrow two-way street and some deep, deep dark butthole of the Bridgewater Triangle.

That could be like any of the streets around there.

I was spacing out, staring out the front windshield when out of fucking nowhere something crossed in front of our car.

Like, Why do fucking Pukwudgie sound so cute, though?

They do. My brain screamed, that's a deer, right?

Nope. But no way. I've seen plenty of deer in my time to know this ain't no deer.

This ain't no deer. They usually don't wear robes.

I've never seen a deer in a robe. I can tell you we have a lot of deer in our yard.

Never seen one in a robe. Nah, they like to be naked.

What I remember most about the creature was the unnatural way it moved on two legs.

Mm-hmm. This burlap hunchback moved like nothing I'd seen before, extremely fast and so smoothly across the pavement.

My entire body froze up and I went into complete shock.

It felt as if I were having a sleep paralysis episode, which you ladies know is the literal worst.

What? What? When I regained my motor skills and speaking abilities, I was able to explain what I had just seen.

No one else in the car saw this thing. I couldn't believe that I was the only one.

I mean, Chris never hit the brakes once, because he obviously didn't see the burlapped hunchback demon crossing the road.

But it was clear from my detailed description and entire body response that I was not full of shit.

Suffice it to say, I probably had a hundred beers that night and didn't sleep a wink.

And now you had no fucks left. None. Fast forward a bunch of years and I'm watching some shit on Netflix or Prime as usual with a different boyfriend we'll call Sean.

I popped on a super low budget documentary about the Bridgewater Triangle and all of a sudden I scream, whoa, that's Tom.

Hey. Oh, I assume. As soon as you said radio show, I was like, are you talking about the guy from that documentary?

That's what I was thinking of. It was the paranormal investigator we had interviewed that night, and he was in this weird documentary.

Interest peaked. Anyway, they covered all sorts of sightings and cryptids seen in the forest, and then they started talking about Pukwudgies.

It was a Pukwudgie. Pukwudgie translates to, according to some dude named Henry Schoolcraft, little wild man of the woods that vanishes.

I love that. Little wild man of the woods that vanishes.

Nine... I just looked at my eight fingers and said nine.

That's where I'm at. It means Pukwudgie.

Yeah. It makes sense. Sound familiar? Yeah.

I completely shit myself. Every description I heard in that documentary was almost identical to what I had seen.

When you Google image search Pukwudgie, obviously I immediately did, you are met with pictures and drawings of little brown hunchback creatures on two legs.

A Wikipedia A Wikipedia article on Pukwudgies describes, quote, they are known to kidnap people, push them off cliffs, attack their victims with short knives and spears, and use sand to blind their victims.

Whoa. Another source, NativeLanguages.org, states, Pukwudgies have magical powers which vary from tribe to tribe, but may include the ability to turn invisible, confuse people, make them forget things, or bring harm to people by staring at them.

I hate that. This one hit a little too close to home for me.

I sometimes think that maybe because I had spent the whole day in a spooky state of mind that somehow I was open to this creature.

Probably. Nevertheless, I'm so glad the little fucker didn't blind me with sand.

I'm going to end this already because it's incredibly long and I'm so sorry.

Never. Anyway, I hope you like this story enough to read it on the podcast.

And it gave you some full body shivs. Thank you so much for doing what you do.

Never stop and stay weird. But not so weird that take it away, Ash.

Not so weird that you have to do this project.

Actually, you have to do your own project.

And you're like, actually, fuck it. Instead of doing my own project, I'm going to do my boyfriend's project.

And my boyfriend's project is to go talk to this guy, Tom, who's from this weird documentary.

But I haven't realized that he has a radio show and he's a paranormal guy.

And then on the way home, I see this puck wedgie.

And I'm like, oh, my God, that's a fucking puck wedgie.

And then years later, I watch a documentary and I see Tom all over again.

You're like, holy crap. Oh, my gosh. A puck wedgie.

I saw it. I'm glad it didn't blind me with sand.

Keep it that weird. Or don't. It's your choice.

I'm glad it didn't blind me with sand. Wow.

Ashley, that was a good one. That was so weird for a second.

I was not talking to you. I know. I was like, what?

You're like, what now? I don't think you have called me Ashley in like fucking 20 years.

I can't even remember the last time I called you Ashley.

Ashley. But this Ashley. That was crazy.

Well done. Fucking. Whoa. I think it's great to end on a Pukwudgie.

I think it's great to end on the fucking spaceship that is soaring outside right now.

I know. I don't know if you guys can hear it.

It might be another thunderstorm. Oh, no, that's John bringing the barrels in.

No, it's not trash day. No, it is. Yeah.

It's Wednesday, isn't it? I was like, why is he bringing the barrels in then?

Because that's what that is. You know what?

I don't know what day it is. Oh, fuck. I don't know if I put my barrels out.

All right. Well, we should go. All right.

So anyways, we hope that you keep listening.

We hope you keep it. But I swear that you didn't put your trash barrels out.

Bye. Fuck my life. Bye. Bye. If you like Morbid, you can listen early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts.

Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music.

Before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey.

Hey, weirdos, we need to tell you about something that has completely blown our minds collectively.

There's a new show called Lawless Planet that's uncovering true crime stories so massive, they're affecting the entire planet.

Post-Zach Goldbaum is investigating real cases where environmental destruction meets murder, conspiracy, and cover-ups.

We're talking about activists who disappear in the Amazon rainforest, whistleblowers who risk everything to expose deadly corporate secrets, and communities being silently poisoned while powerful people profit.

What makes these stories truly terrifying?

They're happening right now. This isn't history.

It's a massive criminal conspiracy unfolding in real time with consequences that affect us all.

Each episode feels like opening a case file into the darkest corners of corporate and government power.

Trust us. Once you start listening, you will not be able to stop thinking about these stories.

Follow Lawless Planet on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts.

You can listen to new episodes of Lawless Planet early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus.

[Listener Tales: From Accidental Encounters with Killers to Paranormal Pukwudgies]-[Episode 354: Listener Tales 48]

📋 Summary

Listener Tales: Spooky Encounters and Unsettling Realities

The "Murderous Skeleton": A Brush with Travis Forbes

The "Almost Kidnapped" Childhood

The "Fifester": Possession in an Abandoned Factory

The Beach Day with Billy Milligan

The "Bedroom Strangler" and the Pukwudgie

Conclusion

🎯Key Sentences

📝Key Phrases

📖 Transcript